Self imprisoment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: House of Ghosts

Submitted: October 28, 2016

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Submitted: October 28, 2016

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Self imprisonment

 

 

 

My eyes open to the sight of the concrete ceiling. My bare back cold from the stone floor being slightly damp. This may be due to the fact that this room is a couple stories down from the surface level. It sure smells like it too.

I wipe the morning gunk out of my eyes and clear my throat as I sit myself up of the cold, hard floor. My tailbone hurts from sitting on hard surfaces all the time so I immediately stand myself up instead of having to deal with the discomfort of my ass hurting.

Now replacing the cold, damp feeling from my back to the bottom of my feet, I step towards the only source of light. I peer out the door window, waiting for the guard to notice that I am awake and am ready for my breakfast. Or, what is called “Breakfast”.

“Hey.” The guard turns to face me through the glass and nods. He slides a tray with a bowl of oatmeal and a small cup of water. Breakfast.

I eat what my stomach can hold and chug the drink down like a waterfall. Then after eating that meal I slide the tray back through the tray hole in the wall.

I turn to the corner where there sits a wooden stool. I had placed my shirt on it, all folded up so that way when I sit down it would be a little bit more softer. I sit down and even though my shirt is comfy it doesn’t help mt tailbones pain.

In the other corner of this small prison is a toilet. No lid, just the seat. I had the best shit I ever had there though.

My mind tends to wonder off into a vast, and dark world, where my demons and evil, lingering thoughts of how I want to obliterate the existence of this cell. It engulfs me, filling me up with fat. Weighing me down to this stone, cold floor. But I’m addicted. I feed off my own, ideas. It’s to the point where I can almost see…

 

no

 

I absolutely see, him.

I created him as an imaginary being. He used to only exist inside of my thoughts. A conception that wasn’t real. But as time went by, he grew more and more real. More real than any living thing in this room. Even the rats seemed like puppets of my imagination now compared to him.

He take the form of my shadow, and as alike my shadow he is so is his ideals. His personality. His beliefs. He is me, a void version of myself. Almost as if I were born with a twin.

It works just like that kids story, Peter pan. I am Peter, and he is Peter’s shadow.

Thanks to this, he understands me like no other. It’s unfortunate that only I see him. I tried convincing the guard that he is real, but he is too far up his ass to even believe me.

But I believe, and that is enough.

His name is Annihilation, Disease, Death. He tells me he has many names, but I was to call him nothing. I wasn’t worthy enough. He says that he has spoken to many, but only to one at a time, so it was no wonder why no one else wouldn’t believe me. He only wanted me to believe.

 

I guess no one will.

 

Now I am like him too. A shadow. And I look upon my corpse, ribs showing from the starving.

 

Now I know his name.

But you have to cross the line to find out. 


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