Okay just for an explanation, my English teacher last year made my class do this game where we wrote a short story in the span of 5 minutes. I liked the game so much I started doing it for fun. I’m starting with the suspense genre. My next suspense tool is phobias:

The Stranger’s sly smile greets me as I exit my room. “Today’s going to be a fun one, Ali.”

My stomach drops as he leads me back to the testing room. The Stranger holds the door for me, but I stop in the middle of the doorway, shocked. A white, pouch-like contraption stands in the middle of the room. It is held by multiple cords and pipes that jut out in various directions.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” The Stranger says, “Jervis worked on it all night. It looks just like my designs.”

Jervis is his assistant. He has a high-pitched, stuttering voice as if he wants to say everything all at once. His pale skin is bright in the hospital like lights as he limps up to me.

“S-so this is j-just like any other t-test,” Jervis says to me “We’ll p-put y-you in that rubbery bag th-thingy,” he has such a way with words, “And it will just weigh you and stuff. Then we’ll start the test.” He leads me to the opening of the bag and I step in, using my shaking hands to hold it open. Jervis closes it and a few seconds later, I hear a switch flip.

The first thing that happens is that all the air leaves my lungs. I let out a yell, but my scream dies in my throat as I suffocate.

Oh god, I think to myself, he’s pulling all the air out. I claw at the rubber quickly encasing me. This isn’t like the other tests. The sweat gathering on my body fills it. I slip and fall. Hard. I try to stand. Bam. I crash onto the floor. Again, I try to get up. Slowly but surely I manage to stand. Black dots cloud my vision. My lungs burn. I try to breathe in, but fail and make a choking noise. My whole body has a pulse. I suck in air but fail. I’m drowning. I’m going to die, I realize. Just as I start to feel my life fading, I hear The Stranger’s voice calmly say, “Shut it off, Jervis. Her vitals are getting low”

It opens and I collapse. I pant and lay there for a minute. “Only five seconds? I expected more from you. We’ll try again tomorrow, Ali dear,” The Stranger says. I hate it when he calls me dear.

Unfortunately my ten minutes ended here and so does Ali’s story.