Writing Exercise #6
 
(Line from Elliot Hughes) They kicked her in the ribs for not confessing and then put her in a little place with no light where she sat for years, licking the mouldy walls for sustenance. For the first three years, she thought about Edward and the kids. She remembered their trip to Spain, she remembered Sammie and the time she lost a tooth at the Ferris wheel, she remembered Andrew playing with the puppies and how Edward's chin felt when she'd caressed it, half-rough and half-smooth. He was always distracted while shaving and didn't finish properly. He'd rush the job so he could dash off and test some new design. Then, for the next two years, she thought about Necco Wafers. They'd been one of her favorite candies as a child - far superior to Smarties or Bottle Caps. Much more interesting. Better variety, stranger tastes, softer texture. She'd liked the white ones the most, and the dark brown ones the least, but enjoyed most of all closing her eyes so she wouldn't know what she was getting. Did they still make them? She wasn't sure. After that, she saw something. This was striking and more than a bit upsetting, since she'd seen nothing for the past five years - there hadn't been any light in the cramped cylinder, after all. But now there was. Very dim, gray, muffled light, not enough to reveal details, but there it was. She didn't know what to make of this. The problem occupied her thoughts for the next year and a half. Then, suddenly, one day she cut her tongue and felt a breeze. The cut and the breeze both came from the hole. The hole, it seemed, had come from the acid in her saliva and the roughness of her tongue, which had eaten away at the wall over the years until it finally wore through. She began licking with renewed vigor, but it took four more years until it was large enough to crawl through. Then, when it was, she found her legs had atrophied so that she couldn't move them, and that the edges of the hole had been sharpened and polished to razor-thinness by the action of her tongue. Finally, she massaged enough feeling back into her legs that she felt willing to risk attempting to crawl out. She did: It resulted in severe lacerations across her emaciated stomach, but as the stomach in question was mostly empty, it didn't matter much. She stood up and looked around. She was in a forest of lemon-yellow trees. ---15 mins--- Writing Exercise Index: http://www.patreon.com/creation?hid=393711
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