Cell Days

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short narrative by a captive

Cell Days

I don’t know how long I’ve been here or even exactly where I am, I do know why I’m in this cramped dingy cell though.  I’m here because I can see the future.

I can’t sleep like other people but I can dream, all night every night I dream. Of things yet to come, little things unimportant to most and big things like wars and death, I dream of death.

When I was a child I often talked of my dreams to my classmates in school even though Miss Freya scolded me for saying nonsense but when little Johnny Perkins drowned I no longer had any friends.

As I grew older I learnt to keep quiet. Even so all the villagers thought me odd. That strange Lucy Childs, remember those tales she used to tell? But then they came true didn’t they? Odd, definitely odd. They always used to whisper about me, only when they thought I couldn’t hear though but I could always tell when some new rumour had been spread. Everyone stared. Always.

They came for me one night – so long ago it seems – no goodbyes, who would miss me? Certainly not my family. It was just me blind folded and bundled to be taken away like an ill sheep for slaughter. When I woke up I was in my grimy cell and I’ve never seen the light of day since.

I hear trolley wheels in the corridor; it must be quarter to nine – breakfast time! Some breakfast, it’ll be Greasy Sue with her slops as per usual. Eventually she trundles to my cell and thrusts my portion at me with the regular winding force. I don’t touch the brown mixture and she glares at me and I glare back, a few moments later I win the contest amd she moves on to give the next poor soul her potion.

 

  I grunt in satisfaction then sigh as I pick up the slop bowl. I’ll have to eat, gotta keep my strength up after all! The first mouthful is as revolting and dire as ever, you’d have thought I’d have got used to the dining here by now but every meal is more vile than the last, honestly where does she get her recipes from?  The witches guide to potion making? I wouldn’t be surprised. About a week ago (I think) I had my favourite dream for a long while; Greasy Sue’s comeuppance, she’ll get attacked by wolves whilst travelling to her sisters for the Christmas festivities. For the first time in my life I can’t wait until Christmas! To hear of the death of my petty enemy.

The hours pass and with nothing else to do since the rats and mice long since deserted me I ponder on my dreams of the previous night.  Nothing I recognise particularly just a Queens wedding and a few wars. My old neighbours would have been delighted and terrified by this news in turn but it doesn’t particularly bother me nor do I miss my neighbours – well they didn’t exactly like me did they? I bet they were glad when I disappeared no more tales to worry their dreary little lives – do I care? Not a jolt.

Although I must be locked up because of my ability no one has ever questioned me or tormented me about it; the only face I’ve seen for months is Greasy Sue and she’s not exactly my mysterious captor or thrilling conversation. I keep thinking will this be the day? Will this be the day something happens and of course it never is. Get a move on will you I always ask, for what I don’t know, interrogation, execution, release....but if it’s the later two make it after Christmas.

I spend my the rest of the day in the typical fashion; thinking, yelling and more thinking until the crack of light peeping through from under the door fades and I know it’s time to dream, what of I can’t say but time to dream always dream.

I’ve spent my existence dreaming of fortunes and failure, love and joy, death and destruction. All yet to come into the busy pages of other people’s lives yet I can never read my own blank pages, never see what lies ahead. What does the future have in store for me?

 

 

 

 


 


Submitted: June 22, 2013

© Copyright 2022 Rachy reg. All rights reserved.

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