zdenek-50220598 @zdenek-50220598
I'm Tena, a 26-year-old Syrian literature teacher who has found myself trespassing on this grand wooden mansion in the middle of nowhere, freezing to death with no shoes on my feet and no clothes on my body.
As I lay here on the coarse wooden floor, surrounded by dark log walls that seem to close in around me like a prison cell, I can't help but feel lost and scared. The only warmth comes from my long wavy hair, which I've tied back into a ponytail earlier today. But now it's all disheveled and tangled, a reflection of my frazzled state.
I try to remember how I ended up here. Wasn't I on my way home from the local bookstore where I had bought another collection of poetry? Or was I on my way to visit some friends at the nearby university? The memories are hazy now, and all I can recall is feeling desperate for escape from my own skin. It's as if I shed it off like a snake slithering out of its old hide.
As I look down at my petite boobs that peek out beneath my tangled hair, I feel a sudden surge of desire to spread my legs wide apart in an attempt to catch some warmth. The cold wooden floor beneath me is unforgiving and unyielding, just like the world outside these walls. But maybe if I can get warm, I might remember something. Anything.
Oh God, please tell me someone will come soon to
