Got to get out of here!
Can’t stand the dark and the damp and the dust.  
Claustrophobia; the imagination offering countless possibilities. The ceiling caving in, burying me. If the floor gave way as well, I would fall into blackness, panting and suffocating, knowing that I’d never escape. Certain death.
Buried alive.  Like in the famous Rachmaninoff Prelude. Pounding chords as the man attempts to fight his way out of a grave.  


2 thoughts on “Trapped Underground – A Fictional Depiction

  1. Thanks very much, Cheryl. I always enjoy developing atmosphere and emotion in my writing.
    I’m fine, though uncertain as to what the future holds (no work at present). I hope you’re well, Lawrence

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