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  • Writer's pictureEldritchMug

Sounds. - Prompt 8

drip. drip. dripdrip.


I desperately imagine the water in the cell as the sound of freshly filtered coffee squeezing its way past a new filter. In a small moment, I am back in my home, safe by my fire, waiting for Mother and Father to prepare a meal for the evening.


drip. dripdrip.


The smell of the coffee warms my nostrils and fills my soul, like the light just now beginning to hide behind the mountains of the Ridges Beyond. I am safe, I keep whispering to myself. I am safe.


drip.


With a terrible boom a door somewhere behind me is thrown open.

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