When bored: Blog
Last Sunday was filled with pitiful screams for Help and blood splatters. So, I got locked in a bathroom with a 7-yr-old named Sarah in the church we go to. Apparently, the lock was broken, and someone locked it, which never happens, and that's how we got locked in. For, like, an hour or so. I scratched up the door a bit, each time murmuring they're gonna have to get a new door. I used any thing I could find. When I realized we were locked in, it was like it wasn't me who was standing there. It wasn't my face turning from a chipity smile to a frown; it wasn't my eyes that had had flecks of gold in before turn to cold and gray. I was lost, and there was no way out.
When we realized we were stuck, I pounded on the door, calling for help and I told Sarah to scream every last bit out of her. I told her not to break down and cry, to be optimistic, to please don't hold this against me. And for the two pure minutes we were in there, our legs up on the couch, laughing about how there's probably loads of money between the cushions, and then smirking when what we found was some Starburst rappers and a sharpened pencil.
She tried unscrewing the nails in the light switch, until I told her we wouldn't be able to stick our hands through, what with all the wires and forms of execution waiting for us inside. She balled her self up on the couch and started to whimper and cry a bit. So, I looked around for something I could hit the door with. I was in a desperate state, and thought the thick, steel-like door would open if I just kept banging. I looked desperately around for something, anything to use. My eyes scanned the walls, mirror, the sinks, and the couch. My eyes stopped on the trash bin. I took out the trash bag and put it on the floor and looked inside the metal trash box. Inside were a roll of paper towels and cleaner. I tried taking the metal trash box off the wall, with no luck, so I took out the paper towels and started to hand one to her, but thought better of it. I turned water on and dampened it a bit, talking to myself and handing her the wet towel. She reached for it, and asked me, 'What if we don't get out? What if they don't find us? What if they don't bother searching for us? What if we stay here... forever?' I told her they will search for us and Thomas and them will find us. I sad we have enough water to last us, what with the room being a bathroom.
Of course, we were in a sort of lounge. The bathrooms were on the other side f the door by the couch, which was one you swung, no lock or key. I scanned the room once more, and wondered why there wasn't a fire pull-thing in here. Only fire alarms. Odd. I thought if I broke one 1: It wouldn't work. Well I would anyways, and we would have to pay for another one (Well I would anyways) or 2: It would work, but it would be ear-peircing, and I didn't want her to have to listen to that for an hour or more. So I looked for something else. I got up from the couch and started to pace. My eyes fell on the coat hooks. They were hard, metal and with the hook part easy to grab onto. It also had an orb of some kind, but I payed no attention to that. As I went to the door, I reassured her the best I could that we wouldn't die in God's house.
Anyways, Making this short. When I started banging on the door and knob, the orb, which I now just found out was glass, broke and went a bit deep into by hand. I realized there was red liquid on the knob and little droplets splashed onto the door with each blow. The hook dropped from my hands, and I clutched the glass in my hand. I was loosing a bit of blood, and the oxygen wasn't too good, and it was starting to warm up, so I grabbed my Coca-Cola sweatshirt and held it around my hand, and watched as it soaked it up. I stopped that, as I remembered it could get infected, so I washed my hands with water. It wouldn't stop bleeding, so I ignored it.
30 minutes later: Ok, so I thought I heard someone, so I raced up to the door and started calling for 'HELP! WE ARE LOCKED IN AND CAN NOT GET OUT.PLEASE, PLEASE HELP US.PLEASE!' 10 minutes later: I hear more noise... scream for another 7 minutes and finally, I plain out start screaming Thomas. With that, the door is swung open, and who is it but Mr. Geek in the flesh. Sarah runs out to find her parents, and I run and hug Thomas...
So, yeah. I found my writing right hand had a really deep gash on the thumb and index, with smaller ones on the pinkie, ring finger. The middle is the only pure. My leg got a deep gash, and my nails are torn from digging through wood... guess I deserve it... After all I AM evil, right. RIGHT?
Ok, for movies, I was thinking
Mirrormask and/or Labyrinth, but I want
13 going on 30... too bad it's PG-13, right...
What are ya'll's favorites?
