Nobody told me it was going to be like this. When you volunteer for this sort of thing, you don't exactly sign a waiver that lets you know you'll be sitting on your butt, shivering to the bones, hungry and exhausted in a damp, dark, cold cell thirty feet underneath what was supposed to be the vacation of a lifetime.
But here I am.
That was ninth grade. I honestly can't even begin to reinvent some storyline to go with that beginning, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder if there even was a story that went with it. Did I even know what I was writing when I was writing it? It's a distinct possibility that I didn't. I'm going to keep wondering, though.