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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a man who mysteriously finds himself chained up at the Oval Office of the White House and sets about trying to escape and remember why he might have been chained up there in the first place.

Submitted: January 13, 2011

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Submitted: January 13, 2011



The blurred surroundings coupled with the excruciating pain within him were too much for Tim. He collapsed onto the concrete footpath, sick and humiliated. About a minute later a guard with rough hands and a deep voice had caught up. It appeared his friends had escaped however.

‘How on earth did I get here?’ Tim's eyes had just opened. His eyes were still blurry, no doubt feeling the strain of adjusting to the bright light reflecting from the room's pearl white walls. As soon as his eyes had adjusted however, he realised he was in the Oval office of the White House. Though amazed and shocked as he was, Tim was in a pensive mood. He kept thinking, how on earth he got there. There was also another problem. His waist was chained to a colossal white pole protruding from the roof of the room. With paperclips in his pocket and years of training in the art of unlocking doors from his childhood, he managed to prise of the locks holding the chain in place. Now liberated from the chain, Tim took some anxious steps towards the door and opened it.

He seemed to have strolled into the glamorously decorated hallway of the White House. Now, Tom really was in disbelief. The walls here were covered with magnificent tapestries depicting stories of American legend such as that of the Jamestown settlers. Immersed in the splendour, he immediately snapped out of his reverie when a portly looking man, wearing a suit appeared from the corner. In an instant, Tim was hiding in a cluttered and cramped cupboard. As soon as he heard the man’s steps fade way, he clambered out, and continued to wander through the hallway.

However, soon it became extremely difficult to navigate through the vast white house as he realised the full extent of the houses’ size and its populace. Soon he was ducking and hiding from people at every corner and he still had no idea of the exit, why he was here or why he was chained up. Tim, feeling worn out and overwhelmed by the situation, decided to hide in a small cupboard, in what seemed a fairly deserted section of the house. He felt as trapped as a soldier in the trenches, yet somehow a little safer here. Now, surrounded only by faint noises, Tim set about remembering the night before.

Unfortunately, his memories from last night were a hazy collection of pictures, starting from setting out for a night with friends, then the Gallagher Pub and ending with complete darkness. Feeling strained and helpless, he clenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself down.

Tim searched his pockets and was both surprised and relieved to find his cell phone with battery and reception. Casting about his saved contacts list, he decided to call George whom Tim thought had been with him last night. Anxiously waiting, he finally heard George’s cheery voice emanate through the phone, “Where are you, did you get back home, that was some punch?” As Tim explained the situation, he felt George’s voice decreasing to a croaky whisper.

George in turn then explained the events that occurred the night before, which he happened to remember very well.

It turned out that after departing the Victorian style Gallagher pub, under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol, they managed to take a turn for the worse- towards the White House. As fate would have it, the President was on a rare night walk outside when Tim punched him. Accordingly, everyone began running but Tim wasn’t able to escape. Instead he was to wake up in the President’s Oval Office chained up to a giant white pole.

Coming back to the present, feeling stunned and in awe, Tim was about to ask George how the President reacted, but suddenly heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer. Instinctively, he cut the phone call short. ‘Why would anyone come to this part of the house’, Tim thought desperately. As the steps grew louder, Tim felt his hair go on end. However, the footsteps merely walked on, evidently without any knowledge they had strolled past a man who had violently attacked the President the night before.

A few minutes later, Tim’s luck seemed to have run out. The tattered cupboard doors flung wide open as a tall man in a black suit proudly announced “We’ve found him sir”. In desperation, Tim made another foolish attempt to escape.

He heard a gunshot aimed towards him. A fraction of a second later, all was dark.

© Copyright 2019 Shehara. All rights reserved.

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