Shoes

You can’t move your legs.

You wake up, and your head hurts and you can’t see anything and you can’t move your legs.

Okay, you can move your knees. But definitely not your feet. They’re in some kind of hardened … structure?

The blindfold is ripped from your face. It smarts as it whips across the aching bruise on your temple. A bright lamp shines into your face, and you squint. You look down, and focus your eyesight. Gradually, the blurred vestiges of light-blindness fade, and your vision resolves on your feet, encased in concrete.

“Awake, eh?” comes the voice. You recognize it – one of your companions in this house cut off from civilization. “Don’t get too comfortable. Tonight, you sleep with the Old Ones.”