~Pitch Live! Post here!~
Be aware, peeps, that I will eventually be posting blog entries that are unrelated to contests! I have 3 such entries, I promise! But not this one. This one is for an awesome contest.
Haunted Writing Clinic and Contest First Page
The tracker in my forearm began to beep at 3 a.m., yanking me from a peaceful sleep. I stared at it for a moment, wondering whether the GPS or microphone had prompted the warning. When the words, “…the gunpowder, treason, and plot…” came fuzzily through the television, I concluded it was not a malfunctioning GPS and panicked, leaping from my broken down couch to turn off the television. ‘How did it unmute?’ I wondered, frantically searching for someone besides myself to blame. My eyes came to rest on the loathsome remote, which I had apparently fallen asleep on, forcing the volume to rocket out of control. I never watched television…edit- interesting television… with the volume on, but chose to read subtitles, because any buzzword repeated too many times would undoubtedly trigger an inquiry and a Screener to monitor me for days, until The State realized I wasn’t a threat. Or worse, it could trigger a full-fledged investigation. If my house was raided, I would be dead in a heartbeat.
My heart stopped in my chest as, seconds later, my door was assaulted by heavy knocking. It seemed that someone had wrenched the oxygen from the room. This was it. I was going to die. The Enforcers would come in, find my stash of contraband, and shoot me on the spot…if I was lucky. My heart pounded against my ribcage relentlessly. It felt like little razors lined the inside of my throat, drawing blood with every ragged breath. I shakily climbed the steps to the main level, covering the opening to my hidden room with a floor tile and a rug, in case the Enforcers at my door were less than thorough. The barrage on my front door continued, and I stopped for a moment at the entry, took a gasp of air, and opened it.