Day 33 - Diving through the crack in the door

February 2 - Through the crack in the door

     The first knowledge awareness brought her was pain.  Her face throbbed, her ribs ached (and not in the 'I've been laughing' way), and her knuckles complained that she had fought without gloves.  As the first awareness of pain faded into the background, painting the first stage of the picture, coldness made itself known.  A damp cold that, while not terribly painful, was certainly uncomfortable, especially when the breeze came.  A fishy, rotten, salty, waterlogged wood carrying breeze.  Opening her eyes, she was not surprised to find wood beneath her face, dark with water, timbers and fibers separating after long exposure to salty air and much use, the cracks encrusted with dirt, sand, and bits of seaweed.  Too trained to groan but too human to avoid a hiss she moved her head, taking in more of her surroundings.  The wooden floor she was on apparently was part of the loading dock to and abandoned cannery, she could see the concrete walls nearby, the company's logo mostly faded, only the impression of a crab left.  Parts of the floor had crumbled and she could glimpse water seething below.  Slowly she began to haul herself to her feet.  Why hadn't they bound her?  Did they think she couldn't escape as sore as she was?  A split lip, black eye, cracked ribs, and swollen knuckles weren't going to stop her.  The sprained ankle might slow her down though.  Ow.  The door, like the floor, was waterlogged and splitting, making it easy for her to peer out through a gap in the wood.  Her eye met with a snuffling nose.  Jerking her head back in surprise she almost laughed.  Did they leave these dogs here to guard her?  They didn't know who they were dealing with.  Nearly cooing to the dogs she set to work.

     The opening for this, in my head, was black and the pieces of her awareness literally started in the forefront then zoomed out until they were in the background or each bit of information was a different color until the whole thing was filled in.  And the dogs were Doberman Pincers.

Day 33 - Diving, Not Drowning

     I am glad I don't really have any traumas or grief in my past, though sometimes I wish I did.  My life is too perfect/average/good to write.  :)