Eric Truter

… In the stark cold, the night ghastly on this midnight hour, I find myself gasping for breath, the smell of damp soil gagging at the tip of my throat and disorientation weighing me down heavier than the shackles bound at my feet.

What is this place, and where have I awaken?

As my thoughts race like strands of lightning on the first Autumns’ Fall across the heavens, hands digging deeper into the walls of the pit surrounding me, panic and fear sinks in quicker and the harsh reality of my imprisonment finally brings me to my knees. I’ve been captured! But how?