Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Wild Thing

Lexy began to stir… she couldn’t move? Her wrists and ankles were bound. She couldn’t see anything. She was inside some kind of strange scented sack. She could see the outline of dark shapes through the material. It was a familiar scent, but she couldn’t place it. She shouldn’t have left the group. What had she gotten herself into?
     She heard a voice say, “It’s not awake.”
     Another voice responded, “Put it in the barn.”
     Lexy squeezed her eyes shut. It, they were referring to her as, it. This was not a good sign; even the homes where she’d been neglected had called her by name. She’d never been referred to as, it. She felt groggy, unusually so. Had she been drugged? She was so stupid. Why had she thought a stranger would be kind to her? She played dead as a clanking noise was followed by the sensation of someone yanking her from wherever she was and dropping her with a thud onto the ground. It painfully knocked the wind out of her. Her chest burned. She knew she had to stay silent, her lips had begun to tremble and she blinked away her tears. She had the sensation of being dragged. Lexy heard the musical sound of wind chimes, combined with muffled voices. Lexy tried to make out what they were saying, but felt the sensation of being abruptly yanked from the position she’d been in. She was dragged again, with complete lack of care across uneven ground. She willed herself to remain silent each time her head and neck jolted violently. The dust from the ground filled the bag and it took everything within her to keep her breathing shallow. A voice whispered, Be quiet. Be still. Say nothing. Do nothing.
      A man’s voice hollered, “Put it in stall 11.”
      Why were they calling her it? Her heart palpitated with fear as she made an attempt to keep herself calm. The voice in her mind whispered again, don’t let them know you’re awake.

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