Edge of Weakness

A Story by stone_eater

horror/intriguing

Shooter looked up, his throat clenched tight. A small pinpoint of light was seen overhead, the only window to freedom. His throat was closing in on him, and Shooter barely sucked down the damp, clouded air. Holding his hand in front of him, Shooter could only see the outline of its shadow. But only could he keep on stretching his neck up to the sky, that small shadow of light. For a minute he stood, chest heaving, with ribs bruised and battered like a spoiled apple. But it was too strong. The wiry strands of the rope around his neck scratched his skin, and a large, red burning rash was already imprinted into his neck. Up ahead, the rope continued along the round dirt walls, and finally ended at the top, somehow staked to the ground. Barely was Shooter on his tiptoes, and his hands reached up to grasp the noose. A pitiful hiss escaped his throat, and echoed throughout that small concave of a well. Eliza, he thought desperately. Where is she... But only that thought held in his mind as the already dark cave flooded like ink blotting out paper...