Catacombs

loneliness

I looked around frantically. There had to be another way out. With the little light that was seeping in through the cracks, I could see the damp brick and the skulls and skeletons that lined the walls. Their eye sockets following my every move, judging me, laughing at me because they knew I was trapped, that there was no other way out. The dripping of water got louder every minute. I couldn't tell how long I had been down there. Was it days? Weeks? Hours? I kept punching, hitting, kicking at the walls on all sides, trying to shake something loose, trying to find some hope that there was, in fact, another way out. I was trying to avoid the bones, to avoid the skulls that were tearing me apart with their uncaring eyes. I screamed and yelled, but the only answers I got were the echos of my own voice and the scattering of the rat's feet. Suddenly, I started hearing something else, someone else. I yelled louder, but whoever they were couldn't hear me. I was quiet for a second to try to see what they were saying, but it was just a chattering of many voices. I could not discern anything from what they were saying. Looking at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on the voices and forget about the eyes, all of the empty, soulless eyes. The voices were getting louder and louder and the dripping was loudest of them all. I screamed again, I just wanted them to stop. The voices needed to stop, the quiet was all I needed. Once my throat started to hurt I listened again and now I could hear what they were saying. It was a swarm of thoughts saying that I was trapped, laughing at my stupidity. They said that I would die a slow and painful death, that my blood would run on these walls and I would suffocate as my lungs filled with my own blood and that my bones would join theirs and my eyes would juxtapose theirs in being depleted and dead, just starring at the rest of the skeletal remains. No one would know what happened to me and no one would care. I refused to believe them and I ran up to one of the walls, pain shooting into my shoulder as it impacted, but there was no give. The voices kept getting louder and I looked around and realized they were coming from the skeletons. Those cold eyes were talking to me. I slid down the wall, cutting my back on the brick, but I couldn't feel the pain. All I could do was stare at their eyes and hear their words mocking me. I screamed and turned to the walls to bang on them some more, they had to come lose eventually. They just had to. I hit and I scratched until I noticed that my fingers were bleeding. I saw my blood all over the walls. I felt goosebumps on my arms and I backed away from the wall while I heard laughter in my ears. I kept backing away from the blood until I tripped and fell and I heard the cracking of the old bones and more laughter as I scrambled to get up and I fell again, this time on something sharp. It was cold and it dug into my back. I could feel the blood dripping from my back. I started coughing violently as I turned to see what I had fallen on. It was a dagger. I looked at my hand to see that I was coughing up blood, so much blood. They were laughing because they were right. They were always right. I started to laugh too. I was one of them.

Author's Note

Want more? Check out my blog (dedicated to my short stories, art, and ramblings; all is appropriate for teens) at ramblingsofagothgirl.blogspot.com
Also please ignore my grammar errors.