Dark, Damp, Wet: Prompt 4

The fall was generally uncomfortable. I should’ve imagined hurtling through the air would be a bad idea. The arm that had thrown and dangled was gone; all I could see was the darkness of the well that I had been thrown through.

 

The well is wet, cold, and damp. My dress is streaked with mud and dirt. I’m not really sure how I’ve gotten here; I just remember falling. I’m staring upwards now, trying to figure out how to get up. It’s hard to describe this as a well because it seems almost a mile deep. Upwards is only deep, deep wood. A forest. I fiddle with my gloves, and I take them off. These are the only things I will not allow to get wet. I creep around, for even though it is a well, the water has been drying for what seems like years. I tiptoe through the moss and stone, looking. I’m not the only one here, right? And then there’s a tunnel. I creep; it’s big enough for me, barely. The ceiling is sticky with slime, and I bump my head against it, muttering. The pink on my boots is barely visible now. I’m crawling through it, and so far, it’s dark and musty. I reach to pull vines out of my way and squint. Sunlight! My legs push me forward even more. Almost. Almost. I blink my eyes, stunned for a second by the light, and realize I’ve escaped.

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244 words