Beyond Paradise

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Dreaming of what lies beyond Paradise might set her free......or it might just be what kills her

Submitted: April 04, 2016

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Submitted: April 04, 2016



She woke with a start. A loud noise, like someone putting the rubbish bins out. She still remembered sounds like that. Sounds from a life now gone. Sounds of everyday movements; neighbours’ radios through the kitchen wall, or the soft rumble of distant traffic. Sounds of yesterday. Sounds of history.


She tried to open her eyes, but it was so dark she couldn’t tell if they were open yet. She lay still, waiting for another sound. But there was nothing.

She sat up slowly, quietly, as far as she could. She reached her right hand to the side of her face. The chain just tugged tight as she touched her cheek, so she lifted her bottom as far as she could, leaning as far as possible so she could just feel the bottom of her hairline above her right ear. It was just starting to grow back. She actually quite liked how it felt. It stirred a memory, long gone, which faded before she could capture it.

The chain snagged, and her body relaxed back. She could do it without hurting her wrists anymore.

After a moment, she leaned on to the other side, shifting her weight to her left, extending her arm just enough to feel the hair on the other side of her head. Just below the scar. 

As the chain tugged against her arm, she no longer felt that frustration, that anguish she had felt for so long, of everything being just out of her reach. Those feelings had been neutralised long ago. 

She lowered her arm again, as slowly as she had lifted it, stifling the noise of the metal chains on the stone floor. As the chains rested again by her sides, she once again adopted a lying position on her back.

He would be here soon. And this is how he liked her to be. 

She waited in the darkness. She wondered if she would hear that noise again. She was calm, silent, motionless, but it was unusual for her to ever hear anything different. Anything other than the soft tapping of footsteps on the wooden stairs beyond the door. Beyond Paradise.

Just then, right on cue, the creaking of wood. Soft, careful footsteps on the stairs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. A pause. Then the sound of metal on metal, a creak, and the sudden burst of light. She closed her eyes, just as she had been taught. The door creaked again, closing slowly. 

She switches herself off, and waits. No thoughts. No movement. Sleeping while awake, in the darkness. Paradise.




© Copyright 2018 Roni Archer. All rights reserved.

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