The Yellow
Window
© 2007 Calvin Roach. All Rights Reserved
The darkness is only broken when a small panel on the door slides open to allow a sickly yellow light to thrust into my cell. And even this does not last long; as within moments someone will stand between the light and the opening, blocking the beam.
Whoever is standing there says nothing. Indeed, he (or she, but I’ve decided that whoever it is a man) makes no sound at all. I know he is watching me, and it drives me mad.
Sometimes this lasts for a few moments, and sometimes for hours. Eventually he leaves, and from fear or exhaustion or both, I collapse into a nightmare filled sleep. When I awake, it all begins again. And I am so hungry and thirsty; this whole time I’ve not had a single bite of food or drop of water to drink.
I gave up
asking questions of my observer several days ago. I say days, but it’s really just the
intervals between my troubled sleep periods.
At first I demanded to be released, then demanded to see whoever was in
charge, then I began to try and offer something for my release, or at least for
answers.
When this failed, I began begging. When this failed, I began ranting and screaming like a madman, cursing the faceless, shadowed form; throwing myself against the door or trying to grab the face of my tormentor through the small window. But he always moved to just beyond my grasp, and still never made a sound. No utterance of surprise when I tried to attack him, no laughter at my disgraceful begging and weeping, no sound at all.
When this failed, I began begging. When this failed, I began ranting and screaming like a madman, cursing the faceless, shadowed form; throwing myself against the door or trying to grab the face of my tormentor through the small window. But he always moved to just beyond my grasp, and still never made a sound. No utterance of surprise when I tried to attack him, no laughter at my disgraceful begging and weeping, no sound at all.
And Reynolds...dear Lord, poor Reynolds!
How many hours did I lie on the cold, metal covered floor of my prison listening to him weeping, screaming, and begging whoever held us to let him go? But they did not; how he lived as long as he did, suffering those unimaginable tortures, is surely a testament to his will to live and fight on.
Reynolds had been my confidante and best friend since we were both young men growing up in England. Even though it’s been at least eight nights now that his shrieks of agony and his begging for mercy and even death ended, I can still hear them. With no other sound but my own breathing and prayers, his cries for surcease, the praying to God for an end to whatever Hell he was subjected to, and eventually, just before the end, his weeping and calling for his mother still replay themselves over and over in my mind.
How many hours did I lie on the cold, metal covered floor of my prison listening to him weeping, screaming, and begging whoever held us to let him go? But they did not; how he lived as long as he did, suffering those unimaginable tortures, is surely a testament to his will to live and fight on.
Reynolds had been my confidante and best friend since we were both young men growing up in England. Even though it’s been at least eight nights now that his shrieks of agony and his begging for mercy and even death ended, I can still hear them. With no other sound but my own breathing and prayers, his cries for surcease, the praying to God for an end to whatever Hell he was subjected to, and eventually, just before the end, his weeping and calling for his mother still replay themselves over and over in my mind.
Our captivity
began right after Reynolds and I arrived in the United States for a hunting
trip in the deserts of western Texas.
Having heard of the challenge that the local wild pigs (known as
javelinas or peccaries) can present to a huntsman, we were eager to test our
mettle against the small, but wily porkers.
Our guide was a man named Edward “Bucky” Westmoreland, a grizzled veteran of the Spanish American war as well as having ridden with John Joseph “Black Jack” Pershing and his expeditionary force to Mexico in search of Pancho Villa. Now Bucky owned a thousand acres of scrubland that he offered to hunters who sought mule deer, grizzly bears, desert bighorn sheep, pumas, and of course, peccaries.
Our guide was a man named Edward “Bucky” Westmoreland, a grizzled veteran of the Spanish American war as well as having ridden with John Joseph “Black Jack” Pershing and his expeditionary force to Mexico in search of Pancho Villa. Now Bucky owned a thousand acres of scrubland that he offered to hunters who sought mule deer, grizzly bears, desert bighorn sheep, pumas, and of course, peccaries.
We arrived by
train at a quarter past one in the afternoon in a tiny town that existed mainly
to service the locomotives that stopped here on the way further west. Bucky greeted us at the platform, and after
unloading our baggage and loading it into the back of his dusty Model A
flatbed, we were off on a two-hour journey across “th’ wors’ stretch o’road in
the Republic of Texas.”
Parched from the west Texas heat and its accompanying dust, we made it to
Bucky’s rambling home. His wife, Ella, a
plump, red faced woman who seemed to be unable to not smile, greeted us warmly,
showed us to our rooms and told us “Supper’ll be set right at five o’clock.
If’n you ain’t at the table by th’ time the bell quits a-ringin’, it’ll go to
the dogs and you’ll have to wash the dishes!” All was said with barely restrained, friendly laughter behind
it.
We assured her we’d be at the table a full five minutes before she rang the dinner bell, and went outside with Bucky to sit under the sparse shade of a mulberry tree, which Bucky proudly told us was “pert near twice as tall as any malburrie in west Texas, and produced the sweetest burries this side of Eden.”
We assured her we’d be at the table a full five minutes before she rang the dinner bell, and went outside with Bucky to sit under the sparse shade of a mulberry tree, which Bucky proudly told us was “pert near twice as tall as any malburrie in west Texas, and produced the sweetest burries this side of Eden.”
Wasn't long before we got
down to the business of planning the hunt with Bucky spinning yarns about how
tough and bad tempered peccaries can be.
According to him, they will fight with the ferocity of an animal three
times their size, and are difficult to kill, even with a high powered rifle
because they are “too mean to just lay down and die.”
Bucky told us there was a waterhole at the bottom of a small canyon where the pigs and mule deer often came to drink and cool off in the hottest part of the day. But being very suspicious of pumas, we’d have to set up our camp over a mile away and hike to a ridge overlooking the spring and wait.
Bucky told us there was a waterhole at the bottom of a small canyon where the pigs and mule deer often came to drink and cool off in the hottest part of the day. But being very suspicious of pumas, we’d have to set up our camp over a mile away and hike to a ridge overlooking the spring and wait.
After a
couple more hours of planning and trying to outdo each other with hunting tales,
it was time to eat. We helped Ella bring
the dishes out to the large wooden table around which we’d been sitting, it
being too hot in the house to eat, and sat down to a fabulous feast of
cornbread, pinto beans with bacon, turnip greens, and sweet, smoky ham that
Bucky said came from a peccary he’d killed earlier in the spring.
Bucky was proud he smoked and cured his own hams. In truth, we felt he didn’t do himself justice! Reynolds and I traveled extensively and eaten meals ranging from the plain fare of the poor to the exquisite feasts offered by princes. But, there was something about this meal with foods unfamiliar to us which spoke softly and humbly of hard work and its rewards at the end of the day.
Topping off the meal was mulberry cobbler and coffee. I truly began to fear I’d have to be rolled into the house later! We topped the evening off an hour past sundown with shots of throat ripping whiskey Bucky claimed was made by a good friend of his, one whose name he could not disclose. Toasting our hosts and to good fortune on our trip, we thanked Ella and Bucky for a wonderful evening, good food and good company, and then retired to our rooms.
Bucky was proud he smoked and cured his own hams. In truth, we felt he didn’t do himself justice! Reynolds and I traveled extensively and eaten meals ranging from the plain fare of the poor to the exquisite feasts offered by princes. But, there was something about this meal with foods unfamiliar to us which spoke softly and humbly of hard work and its rewards at the end of the day.
Topping off the meal was mulberry cobbler and coffee. I truly began to fear I’d have to be rolled into the house later! We topped the evening off an hour past sundown with shots of throat ripping whiskey Bucky claimed was made by a good friend of his, one whose name he could not disclose. Toasting our hosts and to good fortune on our trip, we thanked Ella and Bucky for a wonderful evening, good food and good company, and then retired to our rooms.
Our nightmare
began sometime soon afterwards. The combination
of the large meal, the strong drink, and the life-sapping heat of the desert
afternoon made sure that we slipped into sleep almost immediately. I don’t know what time it was, but I was
jarred awake by the sound of my bedroom door crashing in!
Before I could shake the cobwebs from my head, I was thrown down face first on the floor, my hands and feet bound together behind my back, and a rough cloth sack secured around my head. I called for Reynolds, who called back from across the hall, then went abruptly silent. Calling for Bucky or Ella, there was no answer at all.
Before I could shake the cobwebs from my head, I was thrown down face first on the floor, my hands and feet bound together behind my back, and a rough cloth sack secured around my head. I called for Reynolds, who called back from across the hall, then went abruptly silent. Calling for Bucky or Ella, there was no answer at all.
My attackers
never spoke. They carried me
roughly down the hall then outside as I could feel cool night
air on my arms and legs. Then like a sack of potatoes, they threw me into the
back of a truck. Seconds later, the
engine rumbled to life and we began a bone-breaking drive across the endless
expanse of rocky desert surrounding Bucky’s home.
I could hear Reynolds near me, moaning from pain.
Speaking softly but sharply I told him, "I am here with you! If we just remain calm, we will be alright." My friend's answer was a moaning-half sob before he fell silent. This told me much; Reynolds was one of the most stoic and self-controlled men I’d ever known. He must be in terrible pain to even make a sound.
I could hear Reynolds near me, moaning from pain.
Speaking softly but sharply I told him, "I am here with you! If we just remain calm, we will be alright." My friend's answer was a moaning-half sob before he fell silent. This told me much; Reynolds was one of the most stoic and self-controlled men I’d ever known. He must be in terrible pain to even make a sound.
After what I
believed to be two hours, the truck stopped and our abductors stepped out of
the cab. I could hear their footsteps
crunching on the gravel and then I felt hands on my cramping calves pulling me
toward the end of the truck bed. There
was a tiny moment of disorientation before I hit the ground and the wind got
knocked from my chest!
I gasped and coughed for several seconds before getting my breath. I felt my body being hoisted up by at least two pairs of hands and then being carried away. Again, my captors were mute save the labored breathing from carrying me across the ground.
I tried to calculate how far they carried me by counting their steps, and I think it was about thirty feet. I then heard the squeal of rusty hinges and the hollow sound of a wooden door being thrown back, and then I was carried down a short flight of steps. The air was cool, and smelled musty and long unused, reminding me of a basement or cellar.
I heard the sound of keys in a lock, the sound of another door opening, and then I was thrown directly into the cell I now occupy, still tied and hooded. The door slammed shut, and as I found out later, was made of steel, its surface rough and pitted with rust. I learned this by feeling my way around the cell after I awoke unfettered several hours later.
I gasped and coughed for several seconds before getting my breath. I felt my body being hoisted up by at least two pairs of hands and then being carried away. Again, my captors were mute save the labored breathing from carrying me across the ground.
I tried to calculate how far they carried me by counting their steps, and I think it was about thirty feet. I then heard the squeal of rusty hinges and the hollow sound of a wooden door being thrown back, and then I was carried down a short flight of steps. The air was cool, and smelled musty and long unused, reminding me of a basement or cellar.
I heard the sound of keys in a lock, the sound of another door opening, and then I was thrown directly into the cell I now occupy, still tied and hooded. The door slammed shut, and as I found out later, was made of steel, its surface rough and pitted with rust. I learned this by feeling my way around the cell after I awoke unfettered several hours later.
Tonight,
they’ll come for me. I have been asleep
for God only knows how long, and despite my best efforts to remain awake, I
passed out from exhaustion. I sat with
my back to the cold, dry stone of the wall, hugging my knees to my chest and
tried to hear something, anything beyond the deafening silence that roared in
my head. To my terror, I was
rewarded.
A bell, like that found in firehouses, began ringing only a few feet over my head. I screamed and slammed my hands over my ears, rolling away from the sound as far as I could, weeping and shrieking in fear. It rang for what seemed like forever, and then stopped, the last notes being absorbed into the stone of the walls. Gasping and sobbing, I pulled myself into a fetal position, and wept until I fell asleep.
A bell, like that found in firehouses, began ringing only a few feet over my head. I screamed and slammed my hands over my ears, rolling away from the sound as far as I could, weeping and shrieking in fear. It rang for what seemed like forever, and then stopped, the last notes being absorbed into the stone of the walls. Gasping and sobbing, I pulled myself into a fetal position, and wept until I fell asleep.
I awoke,
almost blinded by the wan yellow light shining through the small window in the
door. I sat and watched; waiting for it
to be eclipsed by my silent tormentor, but it remained open. I wanted to use the weak light to examine my
cell, but I was unable to tear my gaze away from the tiny, saffron colored
rectangle. I sat there, transfixed, for
what seemed like an hour. But the lack
of food and water was taking its toll on my facilities.
I found myself trembling from weakness and starvation and I had to lie back down, being too exhausted to sit up any longer. I lay on my side, watching the light, but again, it remained open, with nothing to block the light. Gathering my strength, I crawled toward the door and tried to pull myself up to gaze out the window. But I could only get to my knees and no further.
I found myself trembling from weakness and starvation and I had to lie back down, being too exhausted to sit up any longer. I lay on my side, watching the light, but again, it remained open, with nothing to block the light. Gathering my strength, I crawled toward the door and tried to pull myself up to gaze out the window. But I could only get to my knees and no further.
Suddenly, my
body was on fire. What had to be
thousands of volts of electricity burned through my nerves. I could not scream, breathe, or even
move. As suddenly as it happened, it
ended, and I collapsed, gasping for air and weeping. My body still reverberated with the memory of
the current, my muscles aching and cramping.
My heart raced and I could feel its irregular and frantic beating.
I rolled away
from the door and screamed at the light through the opening.
“For God’s Sake, who are you? Please, God, please let me go! I have money, if that’s what you want! Someone speak to me!”
There was no sound, except the soft squeal of the window shutting, leaving me in blackness again, and weeping like a child. And then the bell screamed again. Too weak to even roll into a corner, I lay on the floor, my face on the cold, dirty floor and begged God to take my life. I finally fainted, the ringing bell unable to keep my deteriorating body awake.
“For God’s Sake, who are you? Please, God, please let me go! I have money, if that’s what you want! Someone speak to me!”
There was no sound, except the soft squeal of the window shutting, leaving me in blackness again, and weeping like a child. And then the bell screamed again. Too weak to even roll into a corner, I lay on the floor, my face on the cold, dirty floor and begged God to take my life. I finally fainted, the ringing bell unable to keep my deteriorating body awake.
An unknown
time later, I was jolted awake by rough hands holding me down and a knee on the
back of my neck, pinning me to the floor.
Why my captors felt I was a threat to them at this stage, I could not
fathom. I could offer no resistance,
only whimpering and begging. My hand
exploded in pain, and I screamed and thrashed to no avail. My attackers stood up and walked out,
shutting the door as they did.
I lay on the floor, rocking back and forth cradling my right hand in my left. To my blood freezing horror, I realized my little finger had been cut off, right at the palm!
How I had the presence of mind to tear a sleeve from my filthy shirt and tie it around my wrist as a tourniquet escapes me. Trembling, sobbing, and in agony, I lay down with my wounded hand jammed into my left armpit and rocked back and forth in a manner I’d seen the mentally deranged do in the streets of the poorest quarters of every city in the world.
I lay on the floor, rocking back and forth cradling my right hand in my left. To my blood freezing horror, I realized my little finger had been cut off, right at the palm!
How I had the presence of mind to tear a sleeve from my filthy shirt and tie it around my wrist as a tourniquet escapes me. Trembling, sobbing, and in agony, I lay down with my wounded hand jammed into my left armpit and rocked back and forth in a manner I’d seen the mentally deranged do in the streets of the poorest quarters of every city in the world.
With
adrenalin still coursing in my veins, I was determined to stay awake and not
give in to the urge to let unconsciousness claim me. My vigilance was rewarded! The door opened, and although the light was
actually quite dim, the sudden explosion of illumination blinded me. To my amazement, the black outline of a man
stepped in, and placed a large metal pan on the floor and then stepped
backwards out of my cell and shut the door.
But then the window opened, and he moved to stand between the light and
the door, and I knew I was being watched again.
No longer
caring if I was being watched or not, I crawled forward to the pan, cradling my
aching hand against my chest. To my
surprise and even delight (and how I felt that emotion escapes me still), the
pan was filled with water. It was tepid,
but I didn’t care. To me, it was the
finest, coldest water from deep within the wells of Paradise. I drank it so fast that I spilled some on my
chest, but I didn’t care. It had a
faint, salty taste to it, but again, I did not care.
Then
something gently bumped against my lip.
Surprised, I jerked my mouth back from the rim of the pan and reached
into it with my hand. My delirium slowed
my response, but with a scream, I realized it was my own finger!
I threw the offending object across my cell, and scuttled away from it, still shrieking. I must have been moving pretty fast, as I knocked myself unconscious hitting the stone wall behind me. I don’t know how long I was out.
I awoke, lying in a puddle of my own bile.
Evidently, I’d vomited when I hit my head, losing the water I’d been so deliriously happy to drink only a short while ago. Remembering the events prior to passing out, I heaved again, though nothing came up. From weakness, I fainted again.
I threw the offending object across my cell, and scuttled away from it, still shrieking. I must have been moving pretty fast, as I knocked myself unconscious hitting the stone wall behind me. I don’t know how long I was out.
I awoke, lying in a puddle of my own bile.
Evidently, I’d vomited when I hit my head, losing the water I’d been so deliriously happy to drink only a short while ago. Remembering the events prior to passing out, I heaved again, though nothing came up. From weakness, I fainted again.
Another
unknown time later, I struggled awake. I
was so tired and famished I could not focus my eyes on the yellow light coming
in the door. No matter, however; my
ghoulish observer blocked it soon after. I didn’t even bother looking at him
anymore; I just lay there hoping he would come in and kill me. I could dimly make out the empty pan lying
only a few inches from me, and the memory of it almost made me retch again.
Without
warning, the door swung open with a crash, and two men dashed in and pinned me
down. One shoved the side of my head
hard against the floor, and my head exploded in white fire. Rising from me, they left and closed the door
behind me. Clapping my hand to the side
of my head, I began to sob uncontrollably when I realized they’d cut my right
ear from me. I passed out again, my own
blood trickling down between my lips.
When I came
to, the foul, metallic taste of my own blood was still in my mouth. I made no move to spit it out. I just lay
there, feeling the side of my head throb in time to my heartbeat. I sat up slowly, painfully, and felt the
sticky mixture of dirt and blood on my cheek gently coming loose from the cold
metal floor.
Steadying myself with my left hand, I jerked it back when I realized I’d placed it on my own ear, lying discarded on the floor. With no more strength to even weep, I collapsed backward onto the floor again and stared up into the fathomless darkness of my tiny cell.
Steadying myself with my left hand, I jerked it back when I realized I’d placed it on my own ear, lying discarded on the floor. With no more strength to even weep, I collapsed backward onto the floor again and stared up into the fathomless darkness of my tiny cell.
How long did
I lie there? I don’t know, although I
believe I slept about four times. I did
move in all this time, being too tired and listless and even uncaring to do
so. My body screamed for water and food,
and my joints burned from lying motionless for so long. I slowly realized, to my
absolute horror, I could regain a bit of my strength by…Dear God…eating my own
ear!
But any reservations brought on by the transparent veil of civilization were swept aside as I grabbed it from the floor, and shoved it into my mouth. I wept, and then I began to laugh. But I kept on until I’d swallowed it. I could imagine my veins filling with hot, red blood and my muscles regaining the athlete’s tone I’d had before being thrust into this nightmare.
I threw myself on my stomach, and crawled about the floor, sweeping the dirt and stones with both hands until I found what I was searching for- -my own finger, now putrid and foul. With no thought, but only the basest instinct of any starving animal, I tore the fetid flesh from the bones and swallowed it without even tasting.
But any reservations brought on by the transparent veil of civilization were swept aside as I grabbed it from the floor, and shoved it into my mouth. I wept, and then I began to laugh. But I kept on until I’d swallowed it. I could imagine my veins filling with hot, red blood and my muscles regaining the athlete’s tone I’d had before being thrust into this nightmare.
I threw myself on my stomach, and crawled about the floor, sweeping the dirt and stones with both hands until I found what I was searching for- -my own finger, now putrid and foul. With no thought, but only the basest instinct of any starving animal, I tore the fetid flesh from the bones and swallowed it without even tasting.
I closed my
eyes, and found myself laughing softly and silently. It was only then I realized the tiny portal
was open and I was being watched again.
I shook my fist at the demon that stood there, railing in wordless defiance. The door rattled and opened, and I even struggled to my feet and prepared to fight him on my own terms. But he merely stooped and placed a small tin cup on the floor, then withdrew and locked the door again. I staggered over and fell to my knees. There was water in the cup, barely an inch deep. I drank it, nonetheless, and for a tiny moment the awful taste in my mouth was washed away. Then I collapsed.
I shook my fist at the demon that stood there, railing in wordless defiance. The door rattled and opened, and I even struggled to my feet and prepared to fight him on my own terms. But he merely stooped and placed a small tin cup on the floor, then withdrew and locked the door again. I staggered over and fell to my knees. There was water in the cup, barely an inch deep. I drank it, nonetheless, and for a tiny moment the awful taste in my mouth was washed away. Then I collapsed.
When I awoke,
I was instantly aware of my stomach, growling and rumbling. My body craved more food; recharged by the
horrific repast I’d thrust down my own throat earlier. I pulled myself up and found a wall to lean
against. In doing so, my hand brushed
something cold and hard, which made a clattering, metallic sound. In the absolute darkness of my cell, I was
forced to examine it with my fingers. It
seemed like a flat metal tray or platter.
Sliding my hands around, I recoiled as I felt something sting my finger. Fearing at first a poisonous snake had been placed in my cell, I realized it was my own fear making me imagine such. Gingerly, I reached down again, and felt my fingers close around a rough, metal shaft about the width of a pencil. Very gently, I explored the device and felt my heart stop beating as I realized I held in my hand a surgeon’s scalpel.
Did they leave their awful tools behind after the last assault on my helpless form? Could I be so fortunate?
Sliding my hands around, I recoiled as I felt something sting my finger. Fearing at first a poisonous snake had been placed in my cell, I realized it was my own fear making me imagine such. Gingerly, I reached down again, and felt my fingers close around a rough, metal shaft about the width of a pencil. Very gently, I explored the device and felt my heart stop beating as I realized I held in my hand a surgeon’s scalpel.
Did they leave their awful tools behind after the last assault on my helpless form? Could I be so fortunate?
I began to
form a plan in my mind whereby I would wait until the door opened again and I
would rush my kidnappers and kill them with the scalpel, and thus make my run
for freedom. I could feel my face break
into a huge grin as I imagined slitting the throats of the monsters that
watched and tormented me, as well as killing my dearest friend.
"Yes," I said out loud. "I’ll even drink their blood as the life fades from their eyes!" Softly laughing over my newfound hope, I fell asleep and dreamt of my life as a boy; Reynolds and I doing all the things young boys do. Running and playing ball, teasing the servants, Christmas…
"Yes," I said out loud. "I’ll even drink their blood as the life fades from their eyes!" Softly laughing over my newfound hope, I fell asleep and dreamt of my life as a boy; Reynolds and I doing all the things young boys do. Running and playing ball, teasing the servants, Christmas…
The roaring
clanging of that hellish bell shattered my sleep and reverie. I screamed and
shrieked and crawled around in a circle like a panicked animal, and I truly
believe I came as close to dying of a heart attack as I ever had since being in
this place. When the bell ceased, I lay
trembling on the floor, my head pounding, my left arm hurting, and my chest
feeling like it was being crushed.
I became angry, cursing God at robbing me of my chance for revenge. Whether God heard me and took pity on me or decided to curse me further, the pain slowly subsided, and by sheer force of will I got to my feet and found the steel door to my prison. Pounding on it, I screamed for my captors to come and face me. I demanded they stand like men and pay their accounts to me and not God. But there was no answer. Just the ragged panting of my breath and the pounding of blood in my ears. I sank down against the door, and fell asleep.
I became angry, cursing God at robbing me of my chance for revenge. Whether God heard me and took pity on me or decided to curse me further, the pain slowly subsided, and by sheer force of will I got to my feet and found the steel door to my prison. Pounding on it, I screamed for my captors to come and face me. I demanded they stand like men and pay their accounts to me and not God. But there was no answer. Just the ragged panting of my breath and the pounding of blood in my ears. I sank down against the door, and fell asleep.
I awoke once more
with the feeling that I’d been asleep for a very, very long time . I was cold. Hugging my arms about
me, I could feel every rib in my chest.
Running my hands over my face, I realized how gaunt I had become. My arms felt no
thicker than corn stalks, and my once strong legs felt like empty bags wrapped
around bones.
It became clear that I was in danger of dying in my sleep from starvation and dehydration. But but in all the hours I remained awake, no food or water came. The light speared into my cell at irregular intervals, and the silent, shadowy monster that held me would stand there for hours, perhaps even days it seemed, unmoving. He ignored my weak, rasping threats and entreaties for water, food, or death.
It became clear that I was in danger of dying in my sleep from starvation and dehydration. But but in all the hours I remained awake, no food or water came. The light speared into my cell at irregular intervals, and the silent, shadowy monster that held me would stand there for hours, perhaps even days it seemed, unmoving. He ignored my weak, rasping threats and entreaties for water, food, or death.
Then, one
day, I awoke to find the door wide open and the eye-searing light flooding
in. Unable to completely open my eyes
from the pain, I looked around to find to my shock my captor was actually in my
cell with me!
He squatted on the far side of the room, only about ten feet away. A hood of some sort concealed his face so that I could not see his features and he sat still and as impassive as when he gazed at me through the little window. I lunged toward him, thrusting the scalpel before me. He merely stood and stepped aside as I fell far short of my mark. I tried again, and for the first time ever he made a sound.
A short, derisive snort came from him.
He was mocking me!
After all I had suffered; he had the temerity to mock me! I took another swipe at him, and fell on my face. Pain blinded me as my nose shattered on the floor. I could smell my own blood, and I wanted to vomit from the pain, although there was nothing to spill from my body. I rolled onto my back, weeping and coughing as my blood impeded my breathing. My captor calmly walked out of the cell and closed the door to leave me shaking and sobbing in the darkness.
My body was so dehydrated I no longer even had tears, but I wept nonetheless. My blood filled my mouth, and I reflexively swallowed it, the coppery taste like the sweetest wine on my tongue. Unable to stop, I greedily drank my own life’s blood as it trickled into my open mouth.
He squatted on the far side of the room, only about ten feet away. A hood of some sort concealed his face so that I could not see his features and he sat still and as impassive as when he gazed at me through the little window. I lunged toward him, thrusting the scalpel before me. He merely stood and stepped aside as I fell far short of my mark. I tried again, and for the first time ever he made a sound.
A short, derisive snort came from him.
He was mocking me!
After all I had suffered; he had the temerity to mock me! I took another swipe at him, and fell on my face. Pain blinded me as my nose shattered on the floor. I could smell my own blood, and I wanted to vomit from the pain, although there was nothing to spill from my body. I rolled onto my back, weeping and coughing as my blood impeded my breathing. My captor calmly walked out of the cell and closed the door to leave me shaking and sobbing in the darkness.
My body was so dehydrated I no longer even had tears, but I wept nonetheless. My blood filled my mouth, and I reflexively swallowed it, the coppery taste like the sweetest wine on my tongue. Unable to stop, I greedily drank my own life’s blood as it trickled into my open mouth.
Suddenly, I
knew how I could escape. My weakened
state would no longer be a hindrance. I
would regain my strength, and the next time that devil entered my cell I would
kill him and flee this black hell!
So pleased was I with my plan, I was not even truly aware of my actions. Reaching up with my left hand, my right hand lifted the scalpel. I scarcely felt it as I cut my own ear off, and never tasted it as I ravenously ate it. With the growing possibility of escape, I would need all my strength....
If this place were to be my grave, I would not go to it on an empty stomach. Shouting in triumph, I cut off my left little finger and swallowed it whole. Sucking the blood that gushed from the stump, I laughed in the darkness and waited. I would get my chance. All I had to do was wait now.
So pleased was I with my plan, I was not even truly aware of my actions. Reaching up with my left hand, my right hand lifted the scalpel. I scarcely felt it as I cut my own ear off, and never tasted it as I ravenously ate it. With the growing possibility of escape, I would need all my strength....
If this place were to be my grave, I would not go to it on an empty stomach. Shouting in triumph, I cut off my left little finger and swallowed it whole. Sucking the blood that gushed from the stump, I laughed in the darkness and waited. I would get my chance. All I had to do was wait now.
The End
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