Chapter Ten
Suspended In the Dark
Dawn Flynn
And as I dwell in this nether space
There is no whisper, no sound to grace
Sight before my eyes blindfold
Darkness claim my very soul
The 19th century poem ran through my head, one of those marked passages from Mrs. Smith’s library that repeated in my frenzied, chaotic thoughts until it overwhelmed everything else. Like a damaged music CD that played only one part over and over until I was frantic with the need to think of something, anything, else. And the more I tried not to think of it, the more I did.
...no whisper...no sound to grace...
...darkness claim...all dark...
I tried to turn about, twist around. My arms and legs flailed. At least so I tried, but I could feel nothing in response, not even a single muscle contraction. I tho
