"s 2015 Horror Write-off:


Submitted by HISHAM H.

I don't know who I am, or where I came from.

Or where I currently am.

It's very dark.

It's cool and airy. I'm not shoved into a suffocating space or anything

I can't see any floor or bottom. Maybe there isn't one.

All I know that I am currently clinging to a cone of some sort

The cone is cold.

It's feels rough, like a scratched-up playground slide.

It hangs from the ceiling like a stalactite.

I know it's a cone, because it's wider at the top and get narrower as it goes down.

I have my arms wrapped around it, clinging for dear life. My fingertips are barely touching.

My legs are wrapped around it too. I hook one foot over the other.

I don't dare let go.

I feel the rough surface scrape against my cheek.

I'm slowly, gradually slipping downwards.

I tighten my grip, but it only seems to speed up the process.

My fingers are now interlocking.

My feet are hooked on my shins.

I loosen my grip, but just a bit.

My descent slows, but not by much.

My fingertips brush my wrists.

My descent seems to be accelerating.

I wonder; does it taper into a point?

I can't really see that well. Maybe it ends in a bulb, or even a platform.

My legs cross at the shins.

Maybe my feet will hit something solid.

Any second now.

May I'll even touch the ground. Maybe this cone ends just a foot above ground.

My heels come into contact with the cone again, providing additional friction.

My descent slows but doesn't stop.

I try not think of what might happen if it really tapers to a point.

Once my feet pass that point.

Maybe the floor is below that.

Maybe the cone ends like ten feet from the floor.

Quite a drop, but certainly survivable.

My fingertips edge ever so slowly towards my elbows.

I slip downwards.