4 December 2020 - 15 Minute Fiction Friday
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Sitting there in the dull damp darkness, I will never forget that low, monotonous ticking.
Chained like a caged beast to the sponged stone surrounds, wasting away on the little food I could fend for myself, that tick seemed the only morbid reminder of life, as it seemed to count down the remainder of mine.
Hours, days, perhaps more had passed; I had all but given up any dim hopes of escape, all but given up any veiled hopes of feeling the air outside again.
With a whir of activity, my gamble paid off. It had life.