ORGhELl, Made in DNA, c2023
Caught red-handed, he'd been dumped in a simple, small box of a room with no apparent exit and source-less florescent white lighting.
"You'll never get anything from me!" He screamed defiantly at a ceiling that disappeared into darkness. "Do your worst,” he growled.
That's when the hauntingly familiar melodic orgel tunes began.
What was your prompt to create this?
Suspense hung heavily in the air like strong, exotic musky incense or the patchouli disguise in a dorm full of ganja users. Suspense like the edges of a hurricane's eye or a rumbling volcanic caldera not unlike Vesuvius or Mt. St. Helen's.
The penny will drop soon, the other shoe will fall. The sword of Damocles was being sharpened like a SCALPEL.