Hello, Blogosphere, and good morning.
It’s that time of year again–it’s Voice Week!
Essentially what that means is, every day until tomorrow, I’ll be posting a short little flash-fiction piece centered around the same scene–as told by five different Voices.
This year, I’ll be using the beginning pages to my new novel as my testing bed–I posted the original piece, below, some time ago, but as a tool to better understand the book on my end I’m going to re-write from varying angles to understand more about my characters.
**NOTE: The rules officially state that the piece should be around 100 words. This is not the case. However, because of this I will bear people from other sites NO ILL WILL if they choose not to read as a result. That’s absolutely fine, I understand completely. However, I do need to irk Jubilare a bit ;) I will post the word count before beginning each piece.
So without further Ado or Adon’t, here’s the fourth piece to this week’s saga, told through the eyes of Ben, an inmate in the Cave.
Word Count: 423
* * * * *
He heard the kid stumble from the pod after a minute, all floppiness and no spirit like all the other ones that day. He held to the sound in the darkness, gulped air, tried to ignore the raw searing in his belly.
The Cave, the wall of that little tunnel, felt good against the back of his neck. He let his hands lay still on the floor, stiller than he had in a long time. Breathe in, breathe out, enjoy what’s left, wish there was light.
The kid was up now, fumbling along the tunnel wall. Probably hadn’t realized how dark it would be, hadn’t been able to imagine it. Ben tried to chuckle, but the pain from his gut would have knocked him asleep if he’d continued.
He reached up with one finger, wincing as he explored the jagged cut and the raw, exposed organs beneath. A gift from one of the Wanderers, one of the ones who was down here for a good reason.
He’d thought he knew what intestines felt like, from the haunted houses when he’d been little.
He decided, then and there, he was wrong.
The kid from the Delivery Pod had it now, taking one shaky step after another along the Cave wall. Toward him. A day before, he would have called out and told the kid to take another path, if not break their neck himself. But today, there wasn’t much of an option.
The kid grunted as something hit his foot, probably a rock or something like it. Definitely a boy, he thought, almost a man. Less time he’d have to survive till Retrial, so good for him.
The kid came closer, then closer, then a little bit too close.
And then Ben screamed, with the white-hot pain, as the kid’s boot found its way through the hole and into his gut.
The kid recoiled, tried to spring back, got his foot caught under a bit of his skin. Was quiet for a minute, until the realization came of what the kid had just done.
And, as if to add insult to injury, the kid then decided to spray him with a healthy rain of vomit.
“Sorry,” the kid said after a minute.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Silence for a moment, and he held still as the kid extracted himself from the wound.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Ben,” he said from the floor.
“Good luck down here,” Ben said.
Donovan made his way off, through the inky blackness.
And Ben stayed, as a new kind of oblivion found its way to him.
* * * * *
So that’s today’s post! Comment below and let me know what you thought–I’ll be sure to do the same for yours!
May you remain existential,