litfan10
owner of slave_
- Joined
- Apr 28, 2010
- Posts
- 12,322
OOC: Guess it should read Closed for Slave. This is just a little story the two of us are coming up with together. Hope all readers enjoy our first mutual creation!
The flash and instantaneous crash clearly meant the lightning had struck something very close. Following the explosive noise and light and smell of charged, burnt electricity the entire area was plunged into complete darkness.
Alan cursed and looked around but only blackness could be perceived. He might as well have been in a box. He laughed, for all intense purposes he was in a box, just a really big one filled with stuff and winding passageways and stairways and God only knew what else.
Alan shook his head, shouldn’t the emergency lights have kicked on or something? Black, black, black.
Ebony, Ebony, Ebony.
Suddenly, Alan could hear Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder doing a duet in his head.
What the Hell?
Again Alan could only think back to the fact that once again the most interesting thing he could think to do in New York City on a Saturday night was to go into work at the Museum. He would love to go out and meet people, but he was obsessed with doing a good job and securing his future first.
Okay, beating himself up wasn’t getting him out of here. Alan stood up from his desk carefully and followed his hand along the desk to the edge. He put both hands out in from of himself and did a fantastic imitation of Frankenstein’s monster to the door.
Alan was happy about three things: first, it was too dark for anyone to see him do it, second, there wasn’t even anyone there to have seen it anyways, and third, he managed to do it all the way to the door without killing himself tripping over something.
Alan opened the door onto just more darkness.
What was with the emergency lights? Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Frankenstein’s monster reemerged again and he was just thinking that he really should go to the annual Halloween party as the monster when he found the stairs leading down.
Or rather his foot missed that the stairs went down as he tumbled head over heels down the stairs to wind up in a painful sprawl at the bottom.
Shaking his head and checking that all limbs were still attached and in working order, Alan looked on the bright side and realized that at least he got down a lot quicker than if he had known the stairs were there and had tried to navigate them in the dark.
He felt a heavy wetness and reached up to feel a wetness on the side of his face. Well, he had some kind of cut, but at least it didn’t hurt – much.
He looked around again at all the nothing.
Black, black, black.
Paul and Stevie were now dancing across a giant keyboard in his head.
Wow, he must have hit his head harder than he thought.
As Alan shook his head he noticed a pale green light emanating from up ahead.
With nothing better to do Alan went forward. As he did the pale green light squared itself into a rectangle of light blasting out of a frame on a wall.
Alan squinted and stood in front of the light and looked right at it.
And everything swirled and he fell.
His body jarred as his feet landed hard on a white wooden bridge. His body shook with the impact but he managed to stay on his feet.
He was standing on the center of an arched white bridge over the middle of a pond filled with lily pads with a lush green forest surrounding him.
Holy shit. He knew this scene, but, but,
But the painting never had a girl standing on the end of the bridge.
The flash and instantaneous crash clearly meant the lightning had struck something very close. Following the explosive noise and light and smell of charged, burnt electricity the entire area was plunged into complete darkness.
Alan cursed and looked around but only blackness could be perceived. He might as well have been in a box. He laughed, for all intense purposes he was in a box, just a really big one filled with stuff and winding passageways and stairways and God only knew what else.
Alan shook his head, shouldn’t the emergency lights have kicked on or something? Black, black, black.
Ebony, Ebony, Ebony.
Suddenly, Alan could hear Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder doing a duet in his head.
What the Hell?
Again Alan could only think back to the fact that once again the most interesting thing he could think to do in New York City on a Saturday night was to go into work at the Museum. He would love to go out and meet people, but he was obsessed with doing a good job and securing his future first.
Okay, beating himself up wasn’t getting him out of here. Alan stood up from his desk carefully and followed his hand along the desk to the edge. He put both hands out in from of himself and did a fantastic imitation of Frankenstein’s monster to the door.
Alan was happy about three things: first, it was too dark for anyone to see him do it, second, there wasn’t even anyone there to have seen it anyways, and third, he managed to do it all the way to the door without killing himself tripping over something.
Alan opened the door onto just more darkness.
What was with the emergency lights? Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Frankenstein’s monster reemerged again and he was just thinking that he really should go to the annual Halloween party as the monster when he found the stairs leading down.
Or rather his foot missed that the stairs went down as he tumbled head over heels down the stairs to wind up in a painful sprawl at the bottom.
Shaking his head and checking that all limbs were still attached and in working order, Alan looked on the bright side and realized that at least he got down a lot quicker than if he had known the stairs were there and had tried to navigate them in the dark.
He felt a heavy wetness and reached up to feel a wetness on the side of his face. Well, he had some kind of cut, but at least it didn’t hurt – much.
He looked around again at all the nothing.
Black, black, black.
Paul and Stevie were now dancing across a giant keyboard in his head.
Wow, he must have hit his head harder than he thought.
As Alan shook his head he noticed a pale green light emanating from up ahead.
With nothing better to do Alan went forward. As he did the pale green light squared itself into a rectangle of light blasting out of a frame on a wall.
Alan squinted and stood in front of the light and looked right at it.
And everything swirled and he fell.
His body jarred as his feet landed hard on a white wooden bridge. His body shook with the impact but he managed to stay on his feet.
He was standing on the center of an arched white bridge over the middle of a pond filled with lily pads with a lush green forest surrounding him.
Holy shit. He knew this scene, but, but,
But the painting never had a girl standing on the end of the bridge.
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