Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5813834-20140619152405

I'm writing about a man, Mr. Smith, who has far too many phobias than should be healthy. They are; claustrophobia, hemophobia, necrophobia, and nyctophobia. It takes place in an endless dream and I'm wondering if this is a good start.

I awoke confused, my vision blurred. The room was completely wooden, all of it aged and rotting. I stood shakily glancing around, only to see a single nightstand holding a small candle stand. I walked over to the candle, carefully avoiding the many holes in the floorboards. However, before I reached it the entire house began to shake. The wood that covered that house fell, leaving me alone in utter darkness.

My breathing quickened, where did that candle fall? I need to find it quick, before something happens. I scrambled on me knees around what was left of the wooden floor. This place, I need to find a way out, and quick! I felt nothing before my outstretched hand and tumbled forward, off of the safe platform.

I screeched as loud as I could, where am I, what is this, and where is that goddamn light! Please oh God let me get out of this darkness. Please. Please. Please.

After time unknowable, my descent slowed and I slowly reached the ground. I curled up into fetal position, shivering. Eventually, I looked up and saw that there was, in fact, light in this room. I crawled towards the light, out of the black monstrosity that was darkness. I stood near the light, the world swaying in my eyes. I grabbed on the table with vision blurry and focused on the candle stick.

Sweat dripped off of my brow as I waited for my vision to finally clear. Eventually it did, and I quickly grabbed the candle to survey my surroundings. This time the room was rather spacious with two torches on opposite ends of the room facing each other.  