God help me, he’s going for it. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe it has to be. Doesn’t it have to be? A nightmare. I feel the rounded metal edge of the wing slam against my ribs, my fingers scrabble for purchase against the seams of the metal sheets and find- nothing.
“Wait!” I yell, pushing past the pain in my stomach, ignoring that the wind should have been knocked out of me. I can’t afford to have had the wind knocked out of me. I have to warn him. It’s probably-
“It’s probably booby trapped!”
I can’t find a place to get a grip. I feel myself slipping backward and fight against it, straining to reach farther up and can’t, can’t get any ground back.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-11-03 10:09 pm (UTC)“Wait!” I yell, pushing past the pain in my stomach, ignoring that the wind should have been knocked out of me. I can’t afford to have had the wind knocked out of me. I have to warn him. It’s probably-
“It’s probably booby trapped!”
I can’t find a place to get a grip. I feel myself slipping backward and fight against it, straining to reach farther up and can’t, can’t get any ground back.
Oh, God.