Using a Writing Prompt

*First, sorry for not writing. I really am so bad at keeping a blog; I warned you... I decided to use a writing prompt because I couldn't think of a single thing to write, and honestly I felt guilty about not writing. I'm not using them as "I'm stuck what shall I do?" prompts, but more as "I need something to write so I'll write a random scene" prompts. I rarely write modern, so this could turn out very interesting. Here goes!*

courtesy of thewritingcafe.tumblr.com, via Pinterest.com

My head hurt terrificly and it hurt to move. Had I been drugged? The last thing I remembered was looking at a beautiful blue sky, pure white, puffy clouds, the bright warm sun. Then - suddenly - nothing. It was just a picture, but I could feel the sun. I wanted to smell the fresh air but I couldn't. I heard a rustle nearby, and I struggled to open my eyes.

"So, you're awake then?" A girl sat in a corner, looking much worse for wear. Her jet-black hair was stringy, knotted up, and hung loosely on her shoulders. She wore a short-sleeved blue T-shirt and a kaki knee-length skirt. She sat with her arms crossed and a sour face.

"Yes." I said quietly. "Who are you? How did we get here?"

"I'm --" She cut of shortly. Her face clouded over with worry and fear. "It doesn't matter who I am." Her harshness startled me.

"Sorry." I didn't mean it, but I said it anyway. "I'm, um...." The more I tried to think about it the harder it became. What was my name? What did I look like? How old was I? My heart began to race and my view began to fuzz with tears. "Do you know how we got here?"

"No idea, what-so-ever. Thought you might have a clue."

"Are you saying that it's all my fault?" I didn't bother to hide the fact that I was mad. I'd never met this girl in my life and now she's blaming me for getting us into this mess.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, it's not MY fault!"

"Look, I don't even know who I am! And judging by the look on your face when I asked you, you don't either. I'm not joking."

She looked suspiciously at me. "Why should I believe you? Of course I know who I am." There was a slight pause. "I'm Lora, from --" pause again "--South Dakota."

"Oh." I didn't believe her, but I didn't bother telling her so. I stood up to take in my surroundings. We were in a small room, not dark but not lit up. The floor and walls were cement, and a lightbulb hung from a string in the ceiling. Cardboard boxes were thrown about, a few crates were in a corner, dust and dirt was everywhere. A door was to my right. I walked over, knowing it would be locked, but when I jerked at it it flew open. I looked back at "Lara", who perked up. She scrambled to her feet and was with me in a second.

"Should we explore?" I asked. She nodded. The hall was pitch black. I swallowed loudly.

"Why don't we hold hands so we don't get lost on our own?" I know she hated the idea; I did too; but it was a good one. We both took a deep breath, clasped hands together, and took our first steps into the void.