My wrists bound by sorrowed shackles, I was unprepared. They led me through a narrow hall that was gloomily lit by wax candles suspended on little platforms. And through near silence, the only sounds were the jingling shackles, and my eyelids fluttering all about the room.
Naturally, one would often mention the sound of their own screaming heart through silence; its everlasting “lub dub” pounding in the chamber that is a human chest. I’m sure I would have mentioned it if I had noticed. But internal scars were the least of my worries. Besides, I find my eyes much more useful.
You see, my heart is what had me trapped by those awful people. The heart is a terrible thing causing people to feel emotion at all the wrong incidents. The heart tricks you into believing that all of life’s sorrow is in good intention. But then thankfully, my eyes saved me from this tragic delusion and woke me up into my place. Now here I was; we reached what I assumed was my cell.
It was ghastly, grey, and grotesque. The walls wreaked and the concrete floor was stained red. The huskier of the two men tossed me forward and told me nothing. I noticed he had one brown eye and one blue eye. I tried to imagine what his parents looked like. Did they know what he was doing? Where he was? His name? I often developed hypotheticals as they soothed my rotting brain. I hadn’t read a thing in several weeks. But they often struck more curiosity than I could ever handle. On a stupid whim, I stood up as they went, driven by my instinctive insanity, as well as my sight.
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
The correct one of them halted and swiveled to see me peering out of the bars. The candle light brought a nice, lucid glow to his pale affect. The brown eye winced. A few more seconds went, and he turned round again and continued down the hallway. I retreated and sat in the corner of my cell leaning against the wall. Their footsteps slowly faded out.
I would never know his name.
Naturally, one would often mention the sound of their own screaming heart through silence; its everlasting “lub dub” pounding in the chamber that is a human chest. I’m sure I would have mentioned it if I had noticed. But internal scars were the least of my worries. Besides, I find my eyes much more useful.
You see, my heart is what had me trapped by those awful people. The heart is a terrible thing causing people to feel emotion at all the wrong incidents. The heart tricks you into believing that all of life’s sorrow is in good intention. But then thankfully, my eyes saved me from this tragic delusion and woke me up into my place. Now here I was; we reached what I assumed was my cell.
It was ghastly, grey, and grotesque. The walls wreaked and the concrete floor was stained red. The huskier of the two men tossed me forward and told me nothing. I noticed he had one brown eye and one blue eye. I tried to imagine what his parents looked like. Did they know what he was doing? Where he was? His name? I often developed hypotheticals as they soothed my rotting brain. I hadn’t read a thing in several weeks. But they often struck more curiosity than I could ever handle. On a stupid whim, I stood up as they went, driven by my instinctive insanity, as well as my sight.
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
The correct one of them halted and swiveled to see me peering out of the bars. The candle light brought a nice, lucid glow to his pale affect. The brown eye winced. A few more seconds went, and he turned round again and continued down the hallway. I retreated and sat in the corner of my cell leaning against the wall. Their footsteps slowly faded out.
I would never know his name.
Post a Comment
Be the first to comment on this article!