Not knowing where to run, I silently tried the front door. I heard the door click its latches and pins, grinding and squealing, the tumblers screaming for a drop of WD40. My palms became sweaty pools of the Olympic size as I tried to pull the door open, but it slipped away from my grasp. The door only opened for a mere moment then slammed shut, shaking the solid slabs of synthetic sheet rock walls. No longer feeling as quiet as a church mouse and visible to all with a naked eye, I heard my name called out.
That was not my name, but I quickly took a deep breath drawing the air away from anyone nearing my presence and made myself suddenly statuesque.
“Where are you headed boy? You’re up next.”
“Just getting some fresh air,” I said.
“We don’t think so,” said the very tall and lanky middle aged man. His barely visible face was long and narrow. A faint glimmer in his emotionless eyes directed my attention to the purple neon dimly glimmering to my right. Behind him stood four men in dark robes, hooded and silent.
With my attention averted for that mere moment, an incredible force slammed into my stomach almost knocking me over and taking away most of the air I had just recently drew. My arms automatically wrapped around the thing that had just pulverized the rest of my lunch. It was black like the night. A fourteen pound bowling ball with the name of some bowling alley etched in white letters. I didn’t think that was name of the place I was in now.
The four darkly robed men pointed to the alley, faintly illuminated by the purple hues. A Hendrix tune ran through my mind, but I didn’t feel like singing at the moment. I could barely grasp the reality of where I was or why I was there. Along with my now aching stomach, I could now feel a throbbing pain in the back of my head. I ran a hand, while holding the bowl in the other over the throbbing area. I could feel the dried blood and was about to think a little more when someone pushed me closer to the alley.
“Bowl! Bowl! Bowl!”
Such a strange chant, I knew I must be dreaming. Then I remembered; this was the Bowling Games.
Writers note: My apologies. I was going for a bowling alley setting, then my dislike for bowling set in and my fingers took over. It took everything I had to stop this atrocity.