| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Contest Entry >> ID #1580252 |
| |||||||||||||
|
I awoke wondering was it a dream or memory or both and very disorientated thinking where was I, and why was I dreaming of a violent night.
My hands were swollen and I smelled terrible, when a voice behind an iron door asked me to get up, suddenly, I knew I was in deep trouble.
© Copyright 2009 Stephens burnt toast (UN: spatbyrne at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Stephens burnt toast has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |