The door swung open . . .

Rachel Harrie over at Rach Writes is hosting the first of several campaign challenges. And for those of you who know me well, I'm not one to back down from a challenge. Bring it on. I'm ready.

The rules: write a 200 word passage that begins with these words, "The door swung open." To make it even more challenging, though not necessary to the contest, she suggests trying to write it in EXACTLY 200 words and close with "The door swung shut." Both phrases are included in the word count. Now, if you didn't sign up to be a Campaigner, you can still participate. Yes you can. You can check out other entries here: First Campaign Challenge. Oh, and this time, you can vote for the entries you like the most--there's an award for the people's choice along with other goodies as well. (So if you like mine, which I hope you will, then pop over to Rach's and click the little LIKE button under my face. #31).

The reason I love the challenges, it gets my brain up and moving. It forces me to think and get out of my comfort zone. Anything that gets the creative juices flowing is a'right by me. I need the push. Also, it was a nice break from all the editing I've been doing lately. Oh, and did I mention prizes? I like prizes.

So here is my entry. And yes, it is EXACTLY 200 words (Excluding the title) and yes, I started and ended the piece with the suggested phrases:

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PISSED
by Angela Scott

The door swung open and he found me standing in the middle of the damp room, waiting for him. Chained and naked, the way he left me, but not afraid like he fully expected.

I’m sure others had cowered in the dark corner, scared and uncertain. Others begged for their release, making promises not to tell. Most probably cried. All perfectly understandable instincts when faced with self-preservation. If I was that kind of girl, I’d react the same.

Except I wasn’t that kind of girl at all.

His misshapen brows pulled together in a hard line across his forehead as he sat my tray of food on the makeshift table to his left. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched me, his eyes raking over my nakedness, perhaps in hopes of breaking my bravado.  

He didn’t know who he was dealing with; I wasn’t breakable.

His shoulders lowered a fraction before a smile crept over his thin lips. I smiled too, an equally perverse smile to match his own.

“So this is how you want to play it? Huh, pet?”

My eyes never left his. “I can’t imagine playing it any other way.”

And the door swung closed.