Writer Task (This is probably not going to be the submission)

[dawn to dusk]

I woke up in a room, a plain room. White walls, and had a table and a chair to the left of the room. The only distinguishable feature was that it had no windows.
I opened the door...

Spoiler for Well That Was Simple:

...and found myself in another room.

This room was quite plain. White walls, and had a table and a chair to the left of the room. The only distinguishable feature was that it had no windows.
I opened the door...

Spoiler for Yay?:

...and found myself in another room.

This room was quite plain. White walls, and had a table and a chair to the left of the room. The only distinguishable feature was that it had no windows.
I opened the door...

And so on

[AD TienzuStorm]

Paradise Lost

   I blink. The dawn light shines in dimly through the barred window above my hard mattress. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Today is the day.
   I reluctantly pull myself off the stiff bed and trudge to the wall. I bend over and grab a small stub of chalk, then mark a dash on the wall.
   500.
   I sigh.


   Knock knock.
   I hear the lock to the door click. I sit up on my bed and watch as an old man steps into the drab room. He’s holding a bottle covered in words that I can’t understand. Talchul? Harab? Fugida? I straighten up. He walks up to me and gingerly places the bottle on the floor in the middle of the room. He looks at me straight in the eye, then mutters two words.
   “Your choice.”
   He then gets up and leaves the room, locking the giant padlock behind him. I stare at the bottle. Is it worth it? 500 days..?
   ...or 2,000?
   I unscrew the lid. A bitter scent reaches my nose. But it’s strangely welcoming. Enticing even. I take a deep sniff.
   Suddenly, I shake my head. There’s no way I’m considering this. Drink it now? The old man promised my release from this prison if I stayed for 2000 days, why end it now? Could I seriously be so dumb to think that I couldn’t stand 1,500 more days of this? That’s not even five years. And after that.. I would have so much to live for..
   I slowly set the bottle back down on the ground. No way. This offer is just to psych me out. That old man doesn’t want me to escape. That’s it.
   I sit back down on the bed. I try to lie down, to take my attention away from the old man’s offer, but I can’t. My eyes are glued to the bottle. Even though I know it’s a trick..
   Gulp.
   I drain the bottle, my lips thirsty for the vile liquid. I savor every drop. My escape. This is my fate.
   As the room fades away, a small smile reaches my lips. Escape is mine.

Spoiler for notes:

- I don't know what to put for the title, so I just put in Paradise Lost because it sounded nice and it almost fits with the story
- The words on the bottle are "Escape" in different languages (Korean, Arabic, and Catalan in that order)
- Who says that death isn't an escape?

[rob77dp]

Rob 'sprucings' of AD's post/OP...

A Grim Escape

   I blink. The dawn light shines in dimly through the barred window above my hard mattress. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Today could be the day.
   I reluctantly pull myself off the stiff bed and trudge to the wall. I bend over and grab a small stub of chalk, then mark a dash on the wall.
       
   (500.)
   I sigh.


   Knock knock.
   I hear the lock to the door click. I sit up on my bed and watch as an old man steps into the drab room. Is today the day his promise of a future release is granted? Unlikely as it feels just like any day in the past 500 which led to a day like today. He’s holding a bottle covered in words that I do not understand. Talchul? Harab? Fugida? I straighten up. He walks up to me and gingerly places the bottle on the floor in the middle of the room. He looks me in the eye and mutters two words.
   “Your choice.”
   He gets up and leaves the room, locking the giant padlock behind him. I stare at the bottle. Is it worth it? 500 days..?
   ...or 2,000?
   I unscrew the lid. A bitter scent wafts to my nose - strangely welcoming, enticing even, despite the objectionable odor. I take a deeper sniff.
   Suddenly, I shake my head. There’s no way I’m considering this. Drink it now? The old man promised my release from this prison if I endure this imprisonment long enough... but how long is that? After all, life is surviving and this is just the reverse - survive to live.
   I slowly set the bottle back down on the ground. No way. This offer is just to psych me out. That old man doesn’t want me to escape. That’s it.
   I sit back down on the bed. I try to lie down, to take my attention away from the old man’s offer, but I can’t. My eyes are glued to the bottle. Even though I know it’s a trick..
   Gulp.
   I drink the whole bottle, my tongue thirsty for the vile liquid. I savor every drop... my escape... my fate realized.
   As the room begins to fade away a smile creeps onto my lips. Escape is finally mine in the cold grip of death whose relief is conveyed by a grimaced expression.

Spoiler for notes:

- I don't know what to put for the title, so I just put in Paradise Lost because it sounded nice and it almost fits with the story
- The words on the bottle are "Escape" in different languages (Korean, Arabic, and Catalan in that order)
- Who says that death isn't an escape?

[rob77dp]

Well, I should have double-checked sooner but I realized a few minutes ago that the tally marks did not add up to 500 - just 495. I have modified my post here to reflect a new image having 500 tally marks.


This needs incorporated into dawn's submissions post...