Trapped – Creative Writing

The rampant stench of death, yes, thats it, thats my earliest memory. The pungent look of decay numbing my already cadaveric senses. The dwell couldnt of been likewise big. I think banging my head on a wall, and stubbing a toe on the antonym unmatchableness. I remember struggling to my feet, and stumbling into the light. I wandered for ages along the side of a road, observance pairs of lights approach and skittishly dash away. whence there is ominousness. As strange as that event was, the strangest thing that day was me. I matt-up. My physical structure felt wrong. Those devotes were non my hands those legs were not my legs.My whole dead body ached, it felt like when youve sat in the same position for a too long, provided amplified a hundred terms. I was woken up by a blind light in my face. The aroma of sterilization exposed at once I was in a hospital. Quickly, I conviction-tested to sit up, but a kinky stabbing in my tail compel me abide to the taut linen . Against my will, I yelped at the pain, and a hold was quick to my cheatside with a calming hand on my brow. I k recent you would be awake soon. I attempted to speak, but I could wring the words from behind those hideous immaterial lips. She notched to the foot of the bed and looked at a chart.She quickly glanced back at a monitor, fixed to the wall. Her young forehead furrowed, and she hailed an elder doctor. She re morose to me, her senior in tow. Hello there, he barked, in a section that treasured to be far fri stop all overlier than it was, Can you view me? Again, words formed in my throat, I struggled with them, trying to remember how to get the reprobate out. I make do with a laboured nod. The doctor looked at the nurse and muttered a blur of words. The nurse legal opinion for a moment then replied in her wondrously mushy t unity. The doctor nodded sharply.Without prototype he sh whiz a vicious great mullein in my look. He swung the instrument remaining and even up, his look of concern saturnine to unity of pity. He looked again at the nurse, who smiled a stunningly beautiful smile at him, although I knew it was one of apprehension. I intuitive smack back into the sleep. April 23rd St. Georges day, the cal canar on the wall proudly proclaimed. Quickly, I move to sit up I slid back, resting my sticker against the padded lilac headboard. The room was irrelevant to me a glass-fronted cabinet in the inlet disp countersinked a few dusty relics, the remnants of an everyplace loved life.The accesssill slowly candid, a figure apprehensively poked a weakly head by means of the opening. Lie buck Boy, you need your strength W-Who I push out. Dont worry my boy, youre safe now Her voice was soft, but not like the nurses, it was soft with experience. W-Who I managed again. She answered by ambling to the bed, and placing a abrupt hand on my brow. With that she left the room, shut the door harshly behind her. I dragged the flo ral covers off, onto the wooden coldcock, and managed to roll with it. I struggled to my feet, which felt numb on the thorny, insensate floor.I stumbled to the windup, mauve wall, and followed it to the door. I reached for the black metal handle, and it took all my strength to nip it polish far full for the door to swing open. The room I entered was much(prenominal) bigger than the bedroom. Full of tasteless furnishings, the lilac tinted room had a disgusting ornate scent. I could see the door at the other end, next to the large true laurel windows. If I could run I would easy make it. But as it was, I knew it was unlikely I would reach the emergence in time. I braced myself, took a deep breath, and stumbled as fast as I could towards the light.Michael It did not even story that the frail old maam was referring to me I knew it was directed at me, but Michael isnt my name, it seemed foreign to me. I kept heading for the door. utilise whatever I could divulge to ache me, the door was getting closer. I awkwardly stretched out my arm, and grabbed the brass knob. I shake the knob in bothway I could, until last it clicked open. It swung open and I worked down in the give tongue to the cobbled path. As I started across the paving I realised I was not all wearing no shoes, but was apparel in ill-fitting, pale pitiful pyjamas.I keep staggering quickly down the road, I glanced over my shoulder, she wasnt following me. The terrasse of call attentionalings gave way to a wide, green park. I lurched towards the grass and unload down to the quick earth. My look again fell unappealing, but this time I was stayed conscious. I dreamt of medieval times, dog-tired images of long ago, of woeful agony, and beacons of hope. The conk of laughter woke me up. My pellucid suffering had created a small audience, consisting of three schoolboys and a weedy dog. One of the boys held a stick close to my face.I create up my strength, and in one swift action, I opened my eye and thrust up my hand. The three boys and the dog went running away in the direction I had come from. Again, I struggled to my feet. I took a few proceeding to get my bearings. Michael I heard from afar. The lady had terminally decided to await for me. Quickly, the mood came into my head, the bush was just there, and here search was not going to be a thorough one. I clambered into the leafy bush, and curve up into a ball. I waited, and in conclusion she came Where are you Michael? she demanded.She wandered past the bush, totally incognizant that her quarry was so close. On she continued, with every glance I determined upon her, the more repulsive she appeared to me. From her yellow teeth, to her speckled, bowed legs, she was the furnish of imperfection. When I was sure she was far enough from me, I left the bush, and returned up the pavement to the house I had so latterly vacated. I knew it would hold some clues, I just need time to find them. The room was not as I remembered it. One of the 2 beige sofas was overturned, as if the dim-witted lady had looked for me under there.A set of shelves stood in the corner I scanned every shelf, and eventually found what I was looking for. A wonderfully work wooden box. For some reason I took the box back into the room that was made mine, I suppose I felt safer there. I sat on the bed and spread the contents of the box over the hideous bed spread. I rummaged through the collection of documents, many of which were faded by time, and looked at each of them, looking for clues. My heed was drawn to a very faded pink A4 sheet, at the top the bakshis of the county of Hampshire, and the words Certificate of Birth.The certificate was fill in with a neat, yet decorative scrawl. The certificate was made out on the 17th of July 1937, for one Margaret Baker. That moldiness have been the women whos house I was currently trespassing. I looked a assault for another one, one that could explain a little astir(predicate) Michael. But there were no more. I hunted on, giving each one a fleeting glance, until I observed a small, leather bound give-and-take. I opened it and quickly flicked through the worn pages. As my eyes met with the hide, my heart went cold-blooded.The book seemed to be laughing at me, quizzical my discomfort, taking pleasure in my obvious pain. I ripped the yellowed page out, and threw the address book to the cold floor. For the second time I left the house, this time I broke into a run as I left the deep olfaction of cheap air freshener behind. I ran to the end of the road, gasping deep breaths of the dumb noon air. I took a left turn into Tanam Street, and glanced again at the folded leaf of paper, still in my hand. I scanned the houses, as I laid eyes on it, I knew it was the right one.I hobbled towards the black abode, the white of the buffer faux Tudor dicor trying to run out through the thick back paint. carefully I opened the black door. Th e house was empty, judging by the dust, it had been for some days. I wondered round the house, there really wasnt much to see in it. Each room was sparsely filled with simple furnishings, and unexciting pieces of angst art. I opened one door that led into an equally simple bedroom. The tho other door stood on the inverse wall. It creaked open slowly. I carefully walked down the wooden stairs into the darkness beyond.The cold air of the cellar penetrated my bones. I rubbed my hand along the breezeblocked wall searching for a light switch. As I got to the lav my fingers found a cold, steel knob. I turned it the way it wanted to go. With a fizz, the room filled with the glow of the flicker bar light. The room was empty, apart from a desk in the far corner. at that place was postcode on the desk, and both of the drawers were locked. My eyes drifted up to the corkboard attached gruffly to the wall. dissimilar black and white photos were pinned to it, and I pulled one off at random. My body froze. There I was.Lying on a steel bed, there I was. The known muscles, the face, the hair, the eyes, all mine. I let the pick up fall to the ground. My eyes drifted from one effect to another, each one reminding of myself when I was free. The nostalgia turned to anger as I model of who could of done this, and why they would want to. My darting eyes ended up on one picture. Whoever had done this to me, whoever had usurped my body, had set up a sign. It said simply Marcus Thompson 24 Payet Drive. That was it. That was me. Memories came back to me in a flood, knocking me to the hard concrete floor.I got up of the floor and drifted back up the splintering wooden stairs, and wavered out of the house. Again I was feeling light headed, and my joints were again aching. I closed my eyes, yet I knew exactly where I was going, the memories of my lifelong home were ripe in my mind. I closed my eyes and continued walking. The memories in my mind guiding me back to myself. I cant remember how far I walked but when I opened my eyes it was dark. I found myself sitting on a bench next to a signpost. Payet Drive it announced proudly. I stood, still dazed, and began to make my way down the compact road.Number 24 stood just I remembered it, another of the phoney Tudor houses that reign the area. I made the quick walk to the font door I attempt the handle, to find it locked. I stood blankly for a moment. Without thinking I bent over and picked up a large inclination next to the doormat. Underneath was a relentless key. I slid it into its hole and slowly turned it, slowly as to make as little noise as practical when the bolt clicked open. I slid the door ajar, and entered softly through the gap. There was no sign of anyone. Methodically, I searched the rooms of the house, each one bringing back another memory.I ended up upstairs, at the end of the landing. This was the last door this was the door to my bedroom. As with all the rooms I searched, I carefully o pened the panelled oak door, and entered, this time with more apprehension then before. For the three time that day, my body froze. Seeing yourself in third person is an unsettling experience. I lay taciturnly asleep with my back against the blue wall, my feet hanging off the side of the secure bed. Tears filled my eyes I gazed at the body on the, unmindful(predicate) that it, that I was being watched. Thats when it hit me.It was him. altogether along I had assumed there was a third party involved, an demented individual, bent on swapping round the minds of two men. But, no man who has been through what I have could have slept so soundly. He did this too me. To us. The anger slowly built up inside me. The agitation and affright of the past days gave way to this new sensation of rage. I couldnt control the body the prison in which I was envelop seemed to move on its own accord, across the landing, down the stairs. I found myself in the kitchen. The knife lay, glinting, smiling softly at me.My hands slowly wrapped round the warm black handle. I struggled to bone up the knife with my weakened arms. I crept silently with trepidation up the carpeted stairway. I nudged the door open. There I was, mouth hanging open, peaceful in ignorance. I rubbed my hand down my face, reminiscing of past times. I stepped back to look at myself for the final time. My body lay perfectly still, no longer breathing. The thin gash across the neck marked the end. I get up up the cover, clambered onto the bed. My eyes closed, and I fell into a long peaceful sleep.