Poem: In the Belly of the Beast

by Becca L.

My breath comes only in gasps now.
“Someone help,” I whisper hopelessly, knowing that help will be long in coming.
My hands are useless, immobilized by Its deathlike grip.
I struggle, but that only seems to anger It, this dreadful embodiment of vanity and senselessness.

Someone calls my name.

“Where are you?” the voice says.
I am no longer able to answer.
With a burst of strength born of desperation, I lunge for the opening, emerging from the Beast with the sound of tearing behind me.