3WW #30

Bone invites us all to participate in 3 Word Wednesday. Here are the rules, stolen verbatim from his site:

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Leave a comment if you participate.

The words this week: miles, voice, holding

Enjoy and, please, play along.



Fiona struggled against the rope holding her hands together. Her throat burned from screaming for help. Wherever she was, it was obvious nobody could hear her. She could be miles away from anything and anybody.

She cast her mind over the night before, searching for clues as to why someone would be holding her here. She'd walked out of the library just before closing, searching for her keys in her cavernous pocketbook. She remembered thinking she had to take the time to clean it out before something got lost in there. A man grabbed her arms and held something that smelled sickly sweet over her nose and mouth. The next thing she knew, she woke up in the darkness, tied to a chair.

Suddenly she remembered the box she'd found. Could all this possibly have anything to do with that? But… nobody knew she had found it. Nobody but Gary, that is. A chill covered her body. No. She didn't… wouldn't believe that Gary had anything to do with this. He might be a sleaze when it comes to women, but he wouldn't do anything to harm her.

But, a quiet voice argued in her mind, he hasn't actually hurt you. Sure, you're confined and scared and you don't know where you are, but you aren't injured. Maybe he just wants to scare you.

"I don't believe it," she defiantly said, her voice raspy.

Again, she rocked in her chair, pulling at her bonds. She cast her gaze around frantically, looking for anything she could use to free herself. The room was empty except for the chair she was on and a table in the corner, holding a pitcher and a small glass. If she could just manage to get the chair across the cement floor, maybe she could break the glass and cut the rope holding her arms together.

Rocking back and forth and scooting with her legs, she moved the chair to within five feet of the table. She paused in her struggles and heard a key turn in the lock of the door.