As I lie here, looking towards the…door…I try to think. To remember just how I got here. There is no way to mark the passage of time, what with the constant darkness. No way for me to know how long I have been here. But I should be able to remember where I came from. Or why I am here. All my mind can focus on is the darkness. And the silence. Sometimes I can’t even tell if my eyes are open, and I have to touch them with my fingers to be sure.
What’s that? Is it that light again? I get to my feet as fast as I can. I stumble across the chasm of darkness. I bend over. Put my eye to the keyhole.