Trapped

I woke up in my bed, body still sore from yesterday's debacle. I looked out the window, trying to gauge what time it was, but it was no use. The sky was still the same sullen grey clump that adamantly blocked the sun, refusing to light up the already gloomy interior of my room. Just like yesterday. And all the days before that.

With a sigh, I clambered out of bed, already feeling drained. I hesitated for a few moments and stared at the door of my room, as if waiting for it to jump out and bite me. After a few moments, I felt ridiculous about standing around doing nothing, so I opened my door. I was not looking forward to facing them today.

I started trudging down the long, winding staircase. The ice-cold masonry beneath my feet coupled with the generally chilly air woke me from my lethargic daze. Breakfast was waiting. I plodded on, spiralling downwards. The terracotta walls almost seemed to shrink and push against the staircase, as if wanting to devour it and me along with it. It felt like being in the throat of a hungry beast. I hurried my pace.

In my haste to move faster, I tripped and slid the rest of the way down, landing with a thump on the ground below. I was just thankful that I'd made it. I got up gingerly and made my way towards the kitchen. Predictably, there was a door blocking my way and to my annoyance, the doorknob was still too high to reach. Like every other day, I pushed against the door and managed to get it open.

Up on the kitchen bench were some nuts and I crunched them in my mouth. Tasteless as usual. I looked around the room. It was sparse, the only decoration being a few bird statues that perched ominously on tables and chairs. I walked up to one of them, studying its forlorn expression, wondering how the sculptor made it so realistic.

Suddenly, I sensed footsteps and I jumped onto the chair. A few seconds later, a towering hag glided into the room. Its dark, hooded attire blended flawlessly with the grim overtones of the room. It screeched a few incoherent sounds and a wizened claw reached out towards me. The golden eyes on its hood stared at me, and in the dim light its cloak billowed out like the wings of a great predator.

Terror gripped me and I fled, the most primal part of my mind taking over. I could almost feel the talons gripping my shoulders, the cruel beak lunging forth. Before I knew it, I was back in my room. I finally stopped running, having regained my senses. Perhaps it was time for a nap.

I woke up to the scratchy sensation of a bed full of feathers. My room seemed even smaller than before. The walls encircled me like the bars of a cage. Shuddering, I looked out the window. Shadowy as usual, but now with the added prospect of a storm coming. Pretty bad weather for any birds flying.

I looked back at my room and the walls seemed to vibrate and convulse. The ceiling seemed to be closing in on me, eager to squash me against the floor. The air in the room had always been stuffy, but now felt choking, suffocating. Sweat rolled down my face and I started pacing around in circles, as if this would make the room stop contracting. I walked in smaller and smaller circles. I felt trapped in the stomach of a great beast.

Longingly, I looked outside again. Surprisingly, there were crows flying outside. I felt a twinge of jealousy as I looked at them; they were free and I was trapped. One of them cawed and I longed to screech with them, chattering with the flock and flying to wherever my wings could take me.

Without realising it, I'd hopped onto the windowsill. I opened the window, and a fresh breath of wind swept me off my feet. So I opened my wings, and flew.