I turned around and looked below me. It was wet, I could feel the cold water, at least I hoped it was water, but I couldn't see anything. It was pitch-dark. It smelled wet. I stretched our my arms, and felt a smooth surface on both sides. Walls? Was I walking through a corridor?
A flooded corridor?
I continued to walk. Slowly, carefully, kind of dragging my feet through the water, rather than raising them.
It got a bit deeper, now it was up to my knees.
My fingertips kept touching the imagined walls, but they seemed to grow apart as I moved forward. The space was gradually becoming wider, as the water was deeper and deeper. It was up to my thighs, and I could no longer feel the walls. My arms were still standing out, slightly raised, but with no surface to meet my fingertips.
No support, no safety.
What a weird thought. Why would a wall represent safety? Because it was something to lean on?What a silly idea. Under certain circumstances, a wall may offer protection from raging winds, but here, it was rather as if the water was contained by the walls. In that sense, fewer walls would mean less water. Or were the walls indeed protection? Who knows, maybe this whole structure was underwater. Maybe these walls were all that stood between me and drowning. Alright. Not such a silly association after all. Moving on...
I continued to step forward, slowly, carefully, one foot in front of the other, dragging my legs through the water, growing more and more impatient and irritated with my own prudence with every step I took.
End of part 1
The Unwritten Story, by Sabina Nore
What is this all about??
I would like to concoct a story in several parts, with "audience participation". That means, your thoughts and/or questions may (or may not) influence the continuation of the story.
Inspired by @ruth-girl's "Lost In Morgue Land", as well as those multiple choice books from my childhood.
Mysterious opening...
Just made my appetite for the next parts!
I put this on before reading, I think it fits :)
Yes, it does fit!
Thank you for adding that, and for reminding me of background music!
This start of a story makes me think of the Columbia Gorge Falls I visited, early nineties. On that scenic route on the Oregon side of the river, there are a number of waterfalls, the best known, and also the most accessible, is Multnomah. That's where all the tourists hang out. Trails, viewing bridge, gift shop, restaurant etc. I wanted to get away from the crowds. I cannot remember which one, but at one place I decided to hike to the fall, which was visible, but deeper set in and seemingly inaccessible. There was no trail, I walked in the water that was not very deep to begin with. As it got deeper, I took my clothes off and put them together with my other belongings (including knapsack) into a large garbage plastic bag I always carried (one of the things you always have with you in this type of terrain). Eventually, the water was up to my chest. And like in this story, there were walls on each side with the water rushing through, and some deeper pools I swam through to get my feet onto the bottom again, but after a while I gave up and returned, once the water was up to my chin at the best of times, with more and more deeper sections to swim. Hard to keep your balance if you hold your belongings overhead. It was cold, but I did not notice with the adrenaline going. I only noticed when I got back to dry ground. It took a while to stop chattering enough that I was able to put my clothes on again. My fingers were so numb, I struggled to untie the knot of the plastic bag.
This is the area: https://2traveldads.com/2016/02/28/waterfalls-of-the-columbia-gorge/ (over 20 years later, but by the looks, not much has changed).
This is a cool idea for writing a story.
Thanks! We'll see...
Can't help but wonder where she is...
I impressed your story dear
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