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By Lynette Rodrigues

Q. A setting that creates a sense of claustrophobia.

Panting Lynette stopped almost unable to breathe. A fog descended on her mind, rendering her unable to see. She anxiously scrutinized the place she was standing in but an empty blot of colour hit her eyes. The tunnel she had entered was never-ending going on and on and on in its garish oppressive paint. She crawled on her hands and feet grazing them in her febrile desire to find a way out.

Her team-mates had noticed her panicked disposition. The beads of sweat trickling down her

forehead. They said nothing but moved on, past her, to victory. She was surrounded by smooth, thick, windowless walls that caved in on her. The stench of the damp tunnel overwhelmed her nostrils. Her lips pressed together unconsciously licking the sour lemon balm. Voices from her mind reverberated in the tunnel with their shrill desperate chants of Help me! Save Me!

But all the response she got was the heavy thudding of her heart.