Alice was still at the hands of Flim and Flam. She had lost count of how many days she had been in the bag. Every once in a while, after what seemed like hours, the bag would open and in came a piece of stale roti and some moldy cheese. The little filly did not mind though, because anything was better than her mothers meatloaf surprise.
The bad swayed back and forth for what seemed like forever. Every so often it hit something with so much force, it made Alice cry out in pain. The darkness in the bag had consumed her and before she knew what was happening, she had fallen asleep.
"Alice," I...
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