that she was balanced on the very edge of the pit, slowly backing away and pressing her back against the wall to catch her breath.
“How original, another pit. Don’t these people have any imagination at all?” She exclaimed, at least she could see the next door, which again worried her. This was too obvious; then again, maybe she was looking more into it than she really should.
She took a step forward, and that step landed in a very foul feeling substance which brought back memories of mucking out the stables back home, but whatever the substance was, it was spread over the entire length of the corridor all the way up to the far door, a distance of maybe twenty feet. It was like a heavy slime that had the distinct odor of swamp mud, and the same slippery consistency. It wasn’t much of a deterrent, and if it was there just to slow her down, well that worked. She took another step, and sank into the slime as it covered the top of her foot. The feeling was unbearable as it seeped into her boot and as much as she wanted to just run to the next door she wouldn’t be able to move her feet fast enough, which was probably to her advantage since, if she could run, she would be sliding all over the place. She had to make sure one foot was firmly on the ground before she lift the other.
It was slow going, as she was forced to take each step carefully. She had almost lost it once or possibly twice, bracing herself against the wall for extra support. She had managed to remain standing that was until she got within four feet of the door and was just about to reach for it, when the floor suddenly shifted and Kile went down hard.
“Great.” She cursed through clenched teeth as she wiped the muck from her face. When she was able to get back to her feet she made a futile attempt at cleaning her hands on her pants, but the ground shifted again, and again she found herself back in the mud. It wasn’t until she started to get up for the second time that she realized what was happening. Either the floor in front of her was rising or the floor behind her was falling, either way the corridor was tilting and she was slowly sliding backwards, away from the door and toward the pit. Kile tried desperately to get to her feet in the hopes that she could lunge for the door, but it was too late. The door was already moving out of her reach and the muck on the floor was just too slippery. She couldn’t gain any traction and was losing ground fast as the angle of the corridor began to increase. Kile was sliding backward toward the pit she only just managed to avoid once. It didn’t look as if she was going to be as successful the second time.
She tried to stop her descent, but it was no use. She was completely covered in the foul smelling muck, and the more she tried to slow herself down, the faster she appeared to be moving. She was too small to brace herself against the walls, her arms just weren’t long enough, and there were no ledges or cracks in the floor that were wide enough to get her fingers or feet into. She scrambled for the butter knife she tucked in her belt. It had helped her out of the last pit, it should save her from this one.
Quickly wedging the knife into the crevice between the stones, she managed to halt her decent just as her feet reached the edge of the pit. Kile lay there in the muck, gripping the small, now bent, butter knife. The utensil had served her well, but it didn’t look like it was going to last much longer. She had hoped that the floor would return to a horizontal position, but, if anything, the opposite was true. The angel of the corridor was slowly increasing. It would be impossible for it to go completely vertical, but then it was impossible for an entire corridor to tilt the way this one was. Whatever she was going to do, she would have to do fast. The steeper the angle the harder the climb.
Kile pulled the fork from her belt and wedge it handle first in the seams of the stone beside the knife. From
“How original, another pit. Don’t these people have any imagination at all?” She exclaimed, at least she could see the next door, which again worried her. This was too obvious; then again, maybe she was looking more into it than she really should.
She took a step forward, and that step landed in a very foul feeling substance which brought back memories of mucking out the stables back home, but whatever the substance was, it was spread over the entire length of the corridor all the way up to the far door, a distance of maybe twenty feet. It was like a heavy slime that had the distinct odor of swamp mud, and the same slippery consistency. It wasn’t much of a deterrent, and if it was there just to slow her down, well that worked. She took another step, and sank into the slime as it covered the top of her foot. The feeling was unbearable as it seeped into her boot and as much as she wanted to just run to the next door she wouldn’t be able to move her feet fast enough, which was probably to her advantage since, if she could run, she would be sliding all over the place. She had to make sure one foot was firmly on the ground before she lift the other.
It was slow going, as she was forced to take each step carefully. She had almost lost it once or possibly twice, bracing herself against the wall for extra support. She had managed to remain standing that was until she got within four feet of the door and was just about to reach for it, when the floor suddenly shifted and Kile went down hard.
“Great.” She cursed through clenched teeth as she wiped the muck from her face. When she was able to get back to her feet she made a futile attempt at cleaning her hands on her pants, but the ground shifted again, and again she found herself back in the mud. It wasn’t until she started to get up for the second time that she realized what was happening. Either the floor in front of her was rising or the floor behind her was falling, either way the corridor was tilting and she was slowly sliding backwards, away from the door and toward the pit. Kile tried desperately to get to her feet in the hopes that she could lunge for the door, but it was too late. The door was already moving out of her reach and the muck on the floor was just too slippery. She couldn’t gain any traction and was losing ground fast as the angle of the corridor began to increase. Kile was sliding backward toward the pit she only just managed to avoid once. It didn’t look as if she was going to be as successful the second time.
She tried to stop her descent, but it was no use. She was completely covered in the foul smelling muck, and the more she tried to slow herself down, the faster she appeared to be moving. She was too small to brace herself against the walls, her arms just weren’t long enough, and there were no ledges or cracks in the floor that were wide enough to get her fingers or feet into. She scrambled for the butter knife she tucked in her belt. It had helped her out of the last pit, it should save her from this one.
Quickly wedging the knife into the crevice between the stones, she managed to halt her decent just as her feet reached the edge of the pit. Kile lay there in the muck, gripping the small, now bent, butter knife. The utensil had served her well, but it didn’t look like it was going to last much longer. She had hoped that the floor would return to a horizontal position, but, if anything, the opposite was true. The angel of the corridor was slowly increasing. It would be impossible for it to go completely vertical, but then it was impossible for an entire corridor to tilt the way this one was. Whatever she was going to do, she would have to do fast. The steeper the angle the harder the climb.
Kile pulled the fork from her belt and wedge it handle first in the seams of the stone beside the knife. From
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