Unfinished Stories · Writing

The Fall

He took two steps forward and felt the floor dissappear beneath him. There was a quick rush of air as the room rushed up past his head, followed by a sickly stillness. 

He was still falling, of that he was aware, but the walls around him were unchanging. Vast expanses of grey, stretching out to, he looked down to check, what seemed eternity. Knowing what was at the bottom helped he thought, there was somebody waiting for him. The fall was just part of the process. They always were big fans of ceremony. 

As he continued to fall his mind wondered back to how exactly he’d ended up here. I guess it all began with that cat, he thought to himself, or the girl, bit it made him feel a lot better just to blame the cat. 

It was a rather unexciting cat, a small scrawny dirty looking animal. It was also stuck in Chris’ bin. He had noticed it as he took his rubbish out that morning, the thing had managed to get itself in the bin and close the lid on itself. Or somebody had thrown it away. The latter seemed more likely Chris had decided, the thing did look an awful way past its expiry date, and also did not appear as it was very friendly even before it had been shut in his bin. Chris looked reproachfully at this sorry excuse for a pet. 

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