Member-only story
Black Box: Part 1
I’m standing in a room with no windows and no doors. The floor and walls are hard, smooth material. The space is so small that when I stretch out my arms, I can almost touch both walls at the same time.
A bench with one blanket and one pillow rests on the wall behind me. Otherwise the area is empty. The colors are indiscernible, for the only shade I can see is a black inky darkness.
I woke up here a few hours ago and since then, have referred to it as the Black Box.
My name is Anouk VanHaas. The last event that I remember is my sixteenth birthday party. A small family of tall, curly brown-haired people gathered around a large dining room table. My grandma saying for the millionth time how it was a good thing my eyes were deep blue else she wouldn’t be able to distinguish me from my siblings. I think that was a few days ago, but it could have been hours.
When I first woke, I was lying on the bench. I panicked, screamed at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t see anything. Inky blackness suffocated me. I had to force myself to breathe and calm down. I sat up on my little bench and started to explore. I was trying to find a light, but there were only smooth, hard walls.
Since then I have been trying to figure out how to get out. I felt all the walls. They have no cracks for a door. I petted the ceiling and it is no…
