Picture Prompt: Creative Writing Exercise

I started following blogger K.J. Chapman, and I like her picture prompts for writing. This is my first time doing something like this, but here’s my rough draft of the creative writing exercise.

I woke up in the dark. I blinked my eyes several times, thinking that my eyes just needed to adjust to the darkness. I squeezed my eyelids tight and counted to ten. I opened them and waved my hand in front of my face. I couldn’t see it. I had either lost my vision or it was too dark to see. (I hoped it was the latter.)

The floor beneath me was hard, solid. I didn’t know where I was, but I had to find a way out. I got on my hands and knees and slowly crawled forward, searching for a wall. After several paces, I finally reached the side. Relieved, I kept my right and on the wall and crawled around the perimeter. I didn’t trust myself to walk around–stumbling in this position would be less painful than on two feet.

As I moved along, I realized that the wall was curved and mostly smooth. I kept following the wall, refusing to give in to my mounting panic. I wasn’t sure if I had made a complete circle, but I felt certain that I was in a completely round building.

I had to verify, so I took off my right and pushed it against the wall. I started around again, leaving my shoe behind me and cursed when my hand bumped into it upon completing a lap. I sat down in frustration rubbed my sore knees. My eyes stung with unshed tears. I didn’t want to give up, but things were not looking good.

I put my shoe back on and carefully stood up, making sure that my head was clear and stretched my hands up in the air. I couldn’t feel the ceiling. I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t missed any door and escape route. I slowly walked around feeling along the walls with both hands for anything that felt like a door or opening. I lost track of time, scouring the walls inch by inch with both hands. After I was certain that I had covered the entire reachable wall at least once and my hands were numb from the constant rubbing, I sat down in despair.

I gave into the tears and to the panic in my chest. I was pretty sure I was trapped inside a silo but I  had no idea how I had gotten there, nor did I have any idea how to get out. Even if there were a hole in the floor somewhere, it wouldn’t be big enough for a person to get through. My only chance to escape would be if someone found me or if my captor came to get me. Most likely, I had been left here to die.




  1. I love this interpretation. What is it when we look at that picture that takes us both to dark narratives? 🙂

    1. Thank you! I think it’s because it looks so forlorn and overgrown. Random fact- there’s an indoor Rockwall facility in Texas made from a converted grain silo.

  2. Anonymous · · Reply

    Intriguing, now what happens next….

  3. […] Writer Spotlight: Check out Jacky’s interpretation of the last picture prompt over on her blog: Jacky’s Journey. […]

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