Trapped

It's morning again. The sunlight filtering into the room is soft, but I know that before long it will turn so glaring, shielding my eyes from it still leaves a bright orange glare behind my eyelids. I cannot move away from the light even though I want so much to do so. I want to groan at the beginning of another painful day even though I cannot make a sound. The sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling tell me that there is a much more beautiful world outside these four walls. These blue-painted walls in which I am trapped.

 I wait in silence for my torturer to come. I never know when he does, as it seems there is no method to his madness. So I wait, watching the shadows play with the light, shifting and dancing as the minutes turn into hours.

The sounds of activity around me grows as time passes. Voices, some deep and gruff, others soft and melodious. I want to see who those voices belong to, but even when they are in my room I cannot see them, for then I am blinded by the one who calls himself my owner.

There are thumps against wood, growing ever louder, and I know that he is coming. I hear some mumbling, and with effort I can guess that my torturer is looking for something in another room. It doesn't take long for him to find it, whatever it is that will be the thing to prolong my suffering today.

I always get ample warning before the torture starts. It's always the same. He comes at me slowly, and I take the deepest breath I can manage. I feel the soft material covering my face, force acting downwards and never letting up. Sometimes, the fabric is smooth, others rough. But always, it starts to burn after a while, especially when he purposely rubs the cloth over my face. I cannot breathe. The pressure is the same, but it has been a while now since it began. I try to take another breathe in through my nose, but there is no air for me. I smell the detergent that was used on the cloth, slightly flowery but chemical none the less. But I am thankful for it. Sometimes, the stench that comes through my nose is unbearable.

At some point, everything stops. There is no more sight, no more sound, and I just feel like falling apart. I try to count the seconds that pass and pray for a swift death or quick release. But always I am let down.

When the pressure finally starts to subside, I am ecstatic. I don't know how I have survived yet another day, but I am grateful. I hope he doesn't return again today, unlike other days.

Night has fallen, and I can see some stars through the window this night. My owner had moved me some time in the day while my torture was ongoing. I can feel a cool breeze flowing through the room.

It's a hard life; living like this is hardly pleasant. But I guess after a while I'll better get used to this life as a chair.

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Inspired by an Android app I just got called Writing Prompts. You can download it here. This was the prompt that I chose:

Creative

A day in the life of a chair

By the way, sorry for the troll. xD