Give me a torch so I can see. Give me wings to fly free.

Oh, jeezus. Stypid brain always trying to make some goddamn prose and poetry, even in the worst of times, such as now, when all the lights were o—

“Fuck!”, I yelped suddenly, as my hands slipped on what seemed like the railing guiding me down the descending surfaces below, and my precarious, blind balance towards wherever I was going began to falter—

—and then fell forward, down what I had assumed was a staircase, my head smacking against something that had a sharp angle five times out of six. An extended yell followed me down, until finally I came to a rest upon a somewhat more comfortable place.
I assumed I was sprawled upon the floor, and after spasming around, feeling for whatever might be down here, and finding only that I had landed on carpeting, I slowly got up, only to blink as what seemed to be a previously unnoticed weight upon my face disappeared, followed by a soft clink of object against carpet.

Fuck. Were those my glasses?