Children still laugh and squeal in delight, Santa stills smiles telling everyone it will be alright. The stockings still hung on the fireplace with care, People all hugging their cozy teddy bears. But no one spares a thought for the people outside, Who shivered and shook, as they cried and cried.
The rope burned my wrist as I tried to move them, my legs struggled against the chains which kept them there and my chest rose and fell against the weighing pressure of the tight restraints . What had happened last night? My head pounded, as I struggle to remember even the events which led up to this nightmare.Unexpectedly, a sudden bright light spilled into the room making me wince. Was this my doing or some else’s? My eyes eventually came to terms with the new lighting arrangement and allow to examine the room around me. Beside my was an oak bedside table, with a elephant lamp which was bought from Africa. Wait don’t I have this exact lamp and bedside table. I checked out the duvet covering and to my surprise it was the same one I have. My eyes searched the entire room for anything to differ this from my actual room but found none. Is this my room? If so, why am I tied up? My thoughts were rudely interrupted when my door was burst open. My mother cheerily walked into the room until her eyes landed on me and her face dropped. “ Oh, honey don’t be scared these restraints are for a good reason” she smiled sympathetically. “ So you knew about this, that I was tied up. So you know why don’t you?” I interrogated her, aggravated by the pain inflicted by these ‘restraints’. “I’m sorry” was all my mum could muster before she got up and left me alone in prison again. What kind of parent would allow their daughter to be brutally chained to her bed. Out of nowhere my eyes started to become heavier and heavier and before I knew it I had drifted of to sleep.
I awoke later on to the sound of a calming ocean on a warm summers day. What was that? Something was odd about this, it feels different. I cautiously moved my arms to find that they were no longer chained, nor my legs, nor my chest. I was free from the cell in which I was kept a prisoner in: a prisoner of my own mind and body. I let out a sigh of relief, and let a few small tears glide down my face. The last thing I expected when I woke up this morning was to be free from the prison of my mind and the chains. Freedom awaits me!
How to hide a body? That’s usually the question murderers ask themselves although I haven’t so much as harmed a single hair on someone’s head. No, I need to hide the body of my recently deceased grandmother. You may wonder why I can’t just bury her well it’s illegal, ever since ‘they’ came it was made mandatory to donate all the deceased to scientific research on understanding the human body. I’ve tried to hide other relatives although they are either found and taken away or found before I even had a chance to try and save them, ‘they’ and drag away their limp bodies into their metallic, ash black transporter. To you all it my seem like we are all selfish not wanting to donate our bodies to science but what they do to your body shouldn’t ever happen, whether your alive or dead. I pace up and down the cramped hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath me, where am I to hide a body? I know they will be here within the hour so I hurriedly grab the music crate in which my grandma was residing and ,struggling, drag the box through and out the back door towards the withered pine tree which stands in the corner of the fenced garden. Swiftly, I jog over to the heap of wood ,in which my family calls a shed, and search for the eroding, bronze shovel. On spotting it I swim through the debris and grab hold of it saving it from the collapsing mess above. As soon as I can, I begin to dig a large ditch just under the tree and ,once it is a reasonable size, throw a large pile of pile needles into the ditch in an attempt to mask the smell. Anxiously, I open the music crate to see my grandma-still- limply laying in the cramped face her usual happy demeanour reduced to a cold pale nothingness. I brace my self before handling the body and placing it in the ditch I had dug. I decided to remove the evidence so I jumped over the frail fence-bringing the shovel and crate with me- before walking over to the edge of the cliff where below the waves were viciously attacking the rocks. I threw both items off the edge and watched as they were engulfed in the storm below. As fast as my legs could carry me I ran back to the ditch I had dug and began scooping all the mud back into the hole and stomped it down with my feet. Why did I throw the shovel away before I had finished? My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the echo of the door knocker and the ring of my clock alerting me that it had reached 12 o’clock.My heart bounded as I twisted the door knob...
Hopefully I had done enough...