Mini-Writing Prompt!

This mid-week’s prompt revolves around a form of uncovering. This can be any kind of uncovering or truth-telling. Run free with it!

Of course, if your mind is running a blank, feel free to continue the story below! I can’t wait to see what you all come up with!

You can continue the story in the comments, or create a separate post! Just make sure to tag it with #Mini-Writing Prompt !

My submission:

The air doesn’t know where to move, so it sits still and heavy. There isn’t much space in the confines of this trolley, but it’ll have to do. At least it’s moving.

My palms rest on a particularly bumpy section of the age old plastic. Not much to see, other than the sporadic stream of light that pops in and out, equally as blinding as the darkness. I squint, wishing I could stretch my legs.

“Uncover it,” a voice booms from above.

We must be underground because the voice echoes. I plaster myself to the uncomfortable base of the bin, trying to keep hidden. There is tarp, I remind myself. And bodies. The bin shakes wildly, concealing the pounding of my heart, but there isn’t much I can do when the light enters, except close my eyes.

It isn’t an arm; rather, a cold, metal stick pokes and prods between yellowing limbs. It catches onto the flesh of my upper arm and presses. I bite down on a scream.

The metal presses down further. It pierces skin, then muscle. My arm goes numb. Hot tears trickle down my temples and pool in my hair. I think of rivers. Is that blood soaking my shoulder? I think about—

By the time the snap processes in my head, I am being torn out from hiding by the hair.

“Got you,” the voice sneers.

He releases his fist-hold around my hair. I crumple.

“What is it?” Is that disgust in his voice? I stare at the brown leather of his boots, suddenly aware of another presence behind me.

There is too much light to be able to see anything beyond a blur. I keep my eyes trained on the ground by his feet, clinging to the detail of its leather, resolutely away from any hint of blood.

I’m too afraid I might catch sight of the wound and faint, so my arm hangs pathetically by my side. A dull, throbbing pain ascends to my neck, stiffening it so that I can’t turn my head.

Surprisingly, there isn’t a lot of panic in the face of imminent death. Maybe it’s shock. All that runs through my mind is how he tied his shoe incorrectly. The lace hangs uneven; on the verge of coming loose. I fight the urge to mention anything—

“What are you?” A hard kick against my spine has me sprawling forward. I land on my broken arm.

The uncovering is skin peeled off bone. I look to my right where facelessness befalls me. Not much to remember about him other than the fact he helped me.

The boot presses down so my nose dips into the puddle of blood. I inhale.