The room was dark and cold

The room was dark and cold. I couldn't see anything. I cried out in fear, 'help!' I heard a voice outside the door. I pressed my ear against the door, straining to hear. The voices grew louder, and I jumped with joy, at the prospect of being found. Then, just as quickly as the hope came, it diminished. The sound of departing footsteps grew quieter, until there was silence.

I slid down the door, and sank into the floor. 'Give up', I thought. 'You're never getting out of here.' I admitted, silently weeping into my hands.

I slapped myself. 'Pull yourself together.' I yelled at myself.

I stood up, deciding that it was time to look about and get out of here alive. It was time to find out why I was here, and not sit here wallowing in my own pity.

I felt around in the dark, following the patterns of the wall. I heard a dripping, a slow, dull, repetitive sound, that ticked away at my brain.

I decided to follow that sound, even though I suddenly imagined a water torture I'd heard about, where the prisoners endured continuous dripping. 'Was I being tortured? What had I done?'

I searched around a while longer, surrounded by the dark, as if suffocating in the unknown. The dusty, damp and dismal prison. It was too late.

Suddenly the door opened, at first just a crack, and then the light steamed in.

'What are you doing in here?' The figure in the doorway asked.

'You know, all you had to do was turn on the light, or open the door?'

I remembered now, that I'd gone in search of food in the pantry. Well, that's what old age will do for you.