Daily Writing - Loft Binge

March 28, 2017

It was dark, he'd just opened his eyes and his head was pounding, mouth parched, every part of him hurt, and he seemed to be laying on some kind of wooden board.

"What the fu" before he finished he tried to put his hand down and it went further than he'd anticipated, luckily he steadied himself. It seemed he was on a piece of plyboard on top of some kind of wooden beams. "The fuck?" He concluded and slowly sat up, there was a musky smell and the air was very unpleasent, and it was pitch black. So black he couldn't see his hand in front of his face.

He took a few moments to see if his eyes adjusted to the oppressive blackness but nothing, "have I gone blind?" he mumbled to himself then started feeling his way around the wooden board beneath him, then he tried to stand, slowly, only to find the ceiling coming up at an angle to his side. He sat down again. Puzzled, sweating and desperately thirsty.

"Where the fuck am I? I need some water. I'm too hungover for this shit." He crawled around a bit, and it slowly dawned on him. "Am I in the attic? Why the fuck am I in the attic. Wait. I don't have an attic." A cold sweat came over him.

"Why am I in someone else's attic?" At that moment he started running through what he could remember of the night's events. He left work and had a few drinks with some colleagues, got a call from an old mate and moved on for drinks with them... then there were shots... he grimaced at that then the class As. At no point could he remember an attic.

He began to careful move around making sure to keep a hold of the beams and looked for the trapdoor out. He couldn't hear anything below, maybe he could just sneak out?

"Fuck me." He was shaking his head, deeply annoyed at the situation he found himself in. It was too hot and too stuffy.

After what felt like an eternity of slowly moving from one set of beams to the next and going back and forth he found what seemed to be the door. He tried it but it didn't move. First, he tried pushing on it, then started to try and get some leverage to pull it up towards him. Each futile effort left him weary and even sweatier than before. Cursing under his breath. Then he heard something. Like footsteps below. Muffled voices. His stomach tied in knots. But he realised he just had to get out.

He started to bang on the trap door.

"Yo, Yo, I'm stuck up here!" A few more bangs "Help would be appreciated!"

There were some more muffled words, then some footsteps. He was bricking it, but he had no choice. The footsteps got closer the sound of something being rested against a wall.

Then the trap door opened, and light flooded in.