The topic gave us a lot of entries to deliberate over, hence the week long hiatus as we scratched our heads over who to print. Good stuff, guys. The entry below was both well-written and a pleasure to read. For next week, we have 'Bite'. Don't go all Luis Suarez on us. Stories within 350-500 should be in by Sunday at firstname.lastname@example.org. Chop chop!
I opened my eyes and, almost immediately, a burning pain tore through my skull. Biting back the pain, I cursed and became aware of the fact that my throat was sore. I was surprised to find that I had no previous knowledge of how I had gotten there. Wondering why, I surveyed my surroundings, and was caught off-guard by the fact that I was lying on a hard surface-a frail table, and that I was bare-chested. Adding to the strangeness, I was in a very tiny room, with one fluorescent tube light on the wall to my right, a blood-smeared wall to my right, and a table to the top right part of the room, with a single piece of paper, with writing in big bold letters-“come to (address) and you will find answers. contact no one. bring the package. let no one stop you.” Just as I was trying to remember what had happened, the burning in my skull doubled. After much debate, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to get to that location because whoever had brought me here probably had means to do much more. So, lifting myself off my resting place, I walked over to the table, and finding there wore more items than I had previously thought. On the table were the note, a small package wrapped in plain brown paper, and what I could only assume was a large knife in a sheath. Also, a shirt was hung on a hook in the wall. In resignation, I donned the shirt, folded the note and kept it with the knife in the pocket of my jeans, which I had woken up in, and shoved the sheath of the knife into my pocket, and opened the solitary wall in the room. Coming out, I found that my 'room' was actually a shed in a forest, albeit a small one. So, it was easy to make my way out to the streets and even easier to make my way to the location mentioned in the paper, and even easier to break inside the location, which was actually a large warehouse on Main Street. I don't know why breaking in came so easily to me, but I would soon find out. Entering the warehouse, I had to squint quite a bit to even make out the light switch to my right. But, as soon as I pressed it, a swarm of policemen swarmed out of the darkness and pinned me down before I had even time to react. When they had strapped me down to an electric chair, a person who looked like a detective in plain clothes, questioned me about the knife and the mysterious packet. When I answered that I was only following the note on the table where I had woken up, they completely denied the existence of the note. Just like that, it all came back to me. I was a thief, and that was why breaking in came so easily to me. Then they brought out the laptop, and the images and videos streaming in front of my eyes confirmed my suspicions. They had framed me because they did not have adequate proof to pin me on theft, and there was marijuana in the packet. Perfectly planned on their part. The only feeling I could muster was despair, as I, who had always been invisible in my task, had finally be caught on camera.