TDV 19: Names: Unsonselvitzsol

June 17th, 2008 by Sharkchild

An amount of seasons befell me that I could not count before I became free. And surely it was an amount less than I would have thought, for time lingered awfully slow within the cool, decrepit cell of my prison holding. I did not mark the days and I did not note the moon when it could be seen. My thoughts and my pain were the only troubles I ever had dealings with, and I rather disliked both of them. I was not a complex man, especially during this time, and spent almost all of it in one of two disturbing states.

The first state: Hooded guards would take me once every seven days and bind me to a floor beneath the open sky while the sun singed the flesh of my back, arms, and legs. On each day thereafter, I would be strapped to a concrete table in the depths of where my holding lay. Indescribably, the hooded guards would pour hot water upon my burn wounds, inflicting a pain greater than anything that denied death as they plagued upon my essence with no apparent motive. And on the days following that, I would be flogged several times. They would have continued on beyond a handful of lashes, but my dead flesh freed much too generously and sickeningly under each strike. If I could have ended the butchery under any circumstances, I would have done so gladly.

The second state: During those moments of my pitiful refuge, I would lie quite still, tucked against the wall of my cell, playing imaginary music to the rhythm of splashing water made by my fingers slapping upon small puddles. The action calmed and distracted my thoughts, allowing me to soak in the sorry scrap of my life left to live. I would have rather done other activities, but any other movement would have horribly ravaged my wreckage of a body and caused excruciating pain.

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