Heat

Time to write!

It is late. It is oh so very late, but I had a date, so whatcha gonna do? (Wow. Really bad grammar to start us out. Doesn't get much better.) Anyway, if you want deets on the date you need to let me know and I'll speak with you about it, but this is a WRITING blog, you silly friends, so let's get to the writing, shall we?

Today I used a "prompt generator" which gave me certain parameters or criteria I have to meet. Those are: first person, description, heat.

My eyes scanned the walls of the empty room, looking for seams, cracks, a way out, but all I could see was myself, reflected from every angle. The room was shaped like a stop sign, with walls extending up to a ceiling which was so high above my head I could hardly make out the bars which formed a grate in the center. The walls were all mirrors, and as I searched for some way of escape my wild, frightened eyes peered back at me wherever I turned.
I wiped my forehead, noticing beads of sweat were beginning to form and edge their way from my hairline towards my eyebrows. Though ten minutes earlier I wouldn't have truly believed it possible, the room was continuing to get hotter. The rise in temperature seemed to be constant, raising one degree every minute or so.
Despite my nature as a self-conscious, modest young woman, I'd already stripped off my tee-shirt and my blue jeans. This made my reflection especially ghastly, showing me a scared girl in nothing but her underwear and a green tank top. My hair where it had escaped from my high ponytail was sticking to the back of my neck. Anywhere my skin creased, such as my elbows and even the hollow areas behind my knees seemed to be new-found receptacles for the sticky droplets which continued to lazily make their way down my body. I slapped the mirror in frustration, meeting my reflected self face to face, our hands connecting.
I slowly pulled away, my hot hands leaving marks on the mirror's cooler surface. I needed to find a way out.