Quote:
The smoke fills your lungs. You struggle to breathe in the thick air. You cough loudly, attempting to expel the poison in your chest. All you achieve to do is to cause more of the venom to enter. Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle. Was it just the coughing, or was it the dry air that caused it? You couldn't tell.
You close your eyes and tilt your head up. You try to imagine yourself in a different place. But a loud deep sound emerges from the front. It's bellow is enormously loud. It won't let you forget where you are. Other similar sounds erupt. Now, voices join the noise. They won't let you forget. They shout louder and louder, repeating over and over again. The words soon become unintelligible. Perhaps you are dying from the smoke.
You start to move violently. To the left, to the right. Your arms reach instinctively for support. The metal cylinders burn as you touch it. At first, your nerves are numbed, but as time passes, they're set on fire. Your body tells you to move them, but you know that if you do, you'll fall. All you can do is hold tighter.
A high screeching sound reaches your ears. It almost feels like your eardrums will bleed from the sheer sound. It's infinitely worse than nails on a blackboard. An arm, a hand, yours reach to cover one solitary ear, but it's pinned by something heavy. You resign yourself to the sound. You have no choice after all.
The dry heat makes you wonder if this is what baked chickens must feel like in the oven. You reach out for a second, thinking the outside air will cool your skin. But you are given no respite, no reprieve. The air outside is only hotter, so your fingers retreat quickly back through the metal bars.
You finally find the courage to open your eyes. You are met by a black expanse and a singular dim yellowish light. Upon this sight, normally, you'd have clasped your hands together, but such a thing is impossible. What was it they taught you at school? Pray, yes that. As you attempt to mutter one of those prayers of yours, the air becomes humid and heavier. You choke on it, forming a hacking cough. Was it just the air, or was it the spit that built up in your mouth? Whatever it was, do you really think God will save you from this?
A voice resounds. It seems to call out to you. You look wildly around you. Yes, it was you they were calling for. The voice gives you a command. Involuntarily, your body follows it's wishes. Your aching muscles almost tear as you try to pull yourself up. But you can't, can you? The dead weight of unmoving bodies hold you back. You push harder, and you move an inch, only an inch. But you suppose it's a start. You pull harder, and finally, you are standing. Well, not entirely, your body is contorted into such an uncomfortable position. The voice shouts for you to move quicker. Your legs force their way out.
You wonder vaguely how you are able to breathe in such a closed cramped space. The bodies move against you. They try to hold you back. Until one arm appears from the fold of masses, it reaches for your arm. You are horrified at the ghastly strength of this one arm as it successfully pulls you out of that enclosure.
You stumble out into the asphalt, almost falling flat to your face from exhaustion. The arm that saved you almost slithers back into the mess of bodies. All you want to do now, is to go home...
You swear never to ride a jeepney* again.
You close your eyes and tilt your head up. You try to imagine yourself in a different place. But a loud deep sound emerges from the front. It's bellow is enormously loud. It won't let you forget where you are. Other similar sounds erupt. Now, voices join the noise. They won't let you forget. They shout louder and louder, repeating over and over again. The words soon become unintelligible. Perhaps you are dying from the smoke.
You start to move violently. To the left, to the right. Your arms reach instinctively for support. The metal cylinders burn as you touch it. At first, your nerves are numbed, but as time passes, they're set on fire. Your body tells you to move them, but you know that if you do, you'll fall. All you can do is hold tighter.
A high screeching sound reaches your ears. It almost feels like your eardrums will bleed from the sheer sound. It's infinitely worse than nails on a blackboard. An arm, a hand, yours reach to cover one solitary ear, but it's pinned by something heavy. You resign yourself to the sound. You have no choice after all.
The dry heat makes you wonder if this is what baked chickens must feel like in the oven. You reach out for a second, thinking the outside air will cool your skin. But you are given no respite, no reprieve. The air outside is only hotter, so your fingers retreat quickly back through the metal bars.
You finally find the courage to open your eyes. You are met by a black expanse and a singular dim yellowish light. Upon this sight, normally, you'd have clasped your hands together, but such a thing is impossible. What was it they taught you at school? Pray, yes that. As you attempt to mutter one of those prayers of yours, the air becomes humid and heavier. You choke on it, forming a hacking cough. Was it just the air, or was it the spit that built up in your mouth? Whatever it was, do you really think God will save you from this?
A voice resounds. It seems to call out to you. You look wildly around you. Yes, it was you they were calling for. The voice gives you a command. Involuntarily, your body follows it's wishes. Your aching muscles almost tear as you try to pull yourself up. But you can't, can you? The dead weight of unmoving bodies hold you back. You push harder, and you move an inch, only an inch. But you suppose it's a start. You pull harder, and finally, you are standing. Well, not entirely, your body is contorted into such an uncomfortable position. The voice shouts for you to move quicker. Your legs force their way out.
You wonder vaguely how you are able to breathe in such a closed cramped space. The bodies move against you. They try to hold you back. Until one arm appears from the fold of masses, it reaches for your arm. You are horrified at the ghastly strength of this one arm as it successfully pulls you out of that enclosure.
You stumble out into the asphalt, almost falling flat to your face from exhaustion. The arm that saved you almost slithers back into the mess of bodies. All you want to do now, is to go home...
You swear never to ride a jeepney* again.
*if you live in the Philippines, you'll know exactly what I am talking about. If you don't, a jeepney is this public transportation that pretty much bombards you with pollution and is often full to the brim, because it's cheap to ride on one.
This is an english story that must encompass the rudimentary emotion of the Horror Story, without the use of normal aspects such as dark castles, whispering voices and the like.
Tell me what you think.
