The Stories of an Immortal

Prison

Everything is so dark. As my eyes grow used to the lack of light, I notice how the black concrete floor blends in seamlessly with the black concrete walls. The grey ceiling is a welcome change; its very dim lamp is hanging onto it valiantly, even though it's about as useful to me as an inkless pen. Slowly, my gaze drifts to the dank bed I am perching on, and I wish the blanket would be any colour but this boring brown. A bright flash of light on the metal bedframe grabs my attention and as I look up, I see it was a hint of the moon shining softly through the small window above me. However, stormy clouds quickly cover it up before I can get a proper look and my cell is once again plunged into darkness.

Suddenly, a blast of wind hurtles into the room, making everything inside shiver with cold and rear. I reach for the think blanket and pull it tightly around myself. The dampness of it disgusts me, but it's the only source of comfort in this time of isolation. An unexpected splash by my feet makes me look up in surprise at the now leaking ceiling and a weary sigh escapes my frozen mouth.

Will this monotony ever stop?

Outside the cell, heavy footsteps can be heard. Then a door opening. Then silence. Then the harrowing noise of piercing screams and violent shouts hurling abuse at the word around them. My room begins to rattle along with the cacophony of commotion happening everywhere at once. Eventually, the noise fades into the familiar empty quietness.

As the excitement finishes, boredom takes over, dominating any other feelings. I focus on looking at little details: the sharp scratch on the wall, the rusty nail on the floor and a dark shape hiding in the corner. Upon closer inspection, it turns out to be a dead mouse with half its skeleton visible and most of its rotting brain being eaten by maggots. I sae at it in disgust. Is this what becomes of all the prisoners in these cells? Nothing but death, decay and everlasting dread?