WRITING PROMPT NO. 164
Was someone standing on the back of his neck?
Phil lifted his head and a dull groan emanated from his lips. He reached around his head feeling where the end of something blunt and heavy had hit him. His fingers slipped a little in the blood that had collected in his hair. He went to push himself up from the ground but his balance was off and he fell back down his head swimming with pain. Somehow he managed to manoeuvre himself to a seated position, his back resting against the end of the bed.
The window was open a few centimetres and a cool breeze gathered the net curtains and released them into the room with a gentle flutter. He could just about make out the landscape beyond. His glasses lay smashed on the floor. His immediate surroundings blurred in his vision, every line and shape defocused and soft. For a split second he remembered he needed an eye test. He rubbed his eyes smearing the blood from his fingertips over his face.
There was a knock a the door so light he wasn’t sure if he’d heard anything at all. Another knock. Harder this time. He struggled to his feet. One of his shoes lay on its side under the bed. He limped to the door and squinted through the spy hole. The hotel manager. A surge of hope flooded Phil’s body. He opened the door.
Feeling brave? Want to share your story? In the words of one Disney princess, Let it go, in the comments below.