The clock struck midnight.
“Help! Please, can’t you hear me?! Please—get me out of here!”
“They can’t hear you, friend. Only the rest of us can.”
“Rest of us?! What rest of us? Where are you?”
“Now calm down; I’m right behind you. And before you start blathering, let me tell you what you’re thinking. You don’t know where you are. You can’t see. You can’t move. You can hear and know that somebody’s been walking by. That about cover it?”
“Here’s the skinny—and don’t you go freaking out because it doesn’t change things. No one is going to help you. In fact, there’s nothing for you to do but exist. We can talk until the clock strikes four; that’ll be four in the morning, mind you, which is when the cleaning crew arrives. After that, nothing until midnight again. It’s not so bad, considering the alternatives.”
Welcome to Visdare for the week, where we offer exactly 150 words from purgatory, a place where the soul is placed inside a clothing store mannequin. Be sure to pop over and link up; click here to do so.