Young adult Paranormal Fantasy

I’ve always hated the dark. The quiet agony. The inky well of blindness. It holds no calm or peace for me like it does some. In the luxurious stillness I weaken. The dark is a reminder of a childhood nightmare. A memory I want to forget. Need to forget. A time when I was forced into the dark to escape death. It’s funny how what saved me then is what terrified me the most.

Using the palm of my hand, I stifled a a muffled cry. Father didn’t know the depth of my suffering. No one did. I pressed my free hand against the tunnel wall. Jagged comfort as the rough edges dug into my palm. The pain reminded me I was alive. That there was in fact an end to the blackness. One breath in, one breath out. The world stilled and the stitch in my chest eased. It was the same every time my party made the journey.

The shadow of my father slipped into view. “Agnyss? Are you alright?” He grasped my elbow, slight pressure applied. “We can always go back.”

“No.” With great effort I pulled in another breath. “I’m fine. Let’s just keep moving.”

He hovered for a moment. Only one. Just long enough to let his fatherly concern seep in and give me some semblance of peace. And then, with a quick nod he moved on and I followed. The others said nothing. If they grew tired of my weakness, they remained forever silent, for they alone knew the horrors I faced as a child. That we all faced. We said nothing. To the group traveling around me, the passageway was simply a means to an end. The beginning an entry and the end an exit. Plain and simple.  

To me, the exaggerated hole in the ground was nothing more than a shallow grave I was forced to roam around in. As the cold fingers of dread squeezed at my gut, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other.