The Prisoner Of Time

"Isolation is the Evil of Experience"

Gray, dark infectious souls that are deemed to be saved. It's the horrid gastric aromas that echo the halls as the putrid distinct smells satiate me with malady, the prisoner thinks. "The Time Reap, the Time Reap." The prisoner undergoes knots, twists, and turns in his head. Sweat drips down the prisoner's weak, unyielding fingers. The prisoner thinks, "the Time Reap, the Time Reap." the other prisoners ridicule and howl as they know they aren't going to "return from the hell." Why must I be chosen? Why must my insignificant body endure eternal madness from this pit of despair, thinks the inmate? The prisoner is chained in rusted steel and has smears of dirt all over the prisoner's flesh. Smells, the only freedom the prisoners have yet so horrid and distasteful.

Shaggy hair, the prisoner has, with white and blue navy overalls. Torn, ripped, poor.

The other prisoners come forth, like exiting from a lion's cage. This feeling, the prisoner thought. "Is infectious and terrifying. Suddenly from the mists of fear is heard a dark mischievous voice. "Will prisoner 2284 please step forward." The room became silent as the night, then the prisoner came toward the officer.

Slowly...Step by step approaching the officer, knowing the fate. As 2284 was head - to head with the man. The fear must have taken the convicts' wits with 2284 for, the prisoner jumped and tried to wrestle away through the room full of demons in disguise. The convict galloped about, enjoying a short encounter with freedom. This was 2284's chance to have redemption. "Freedom alas." But no matter how bold or what courage bestows upon you, the guards take 2284 away to play with Satan and endless torture filled with fiery doom. Dragging the prisoner as screams fill the rooms and ears ring with ear-splitting pain that made the prisoner tremble in fear. This escape was short-lived and excitement was trapped again. After the trouble, we went about our task at hand. "Will prisoner 4672, please step forward?" The prisoner gasped. The strong muscular man with an absence of hair and pitiful brown eyes approached the officer. The sweat from the prisoner's body made the muscles gleam and bulge. Prisoner 4672 was a ferocious kind, not idiotic as "2284" but much direr.

4672 came forth and with the prisoner's muscularity, you could see the officer's impression of the strong man. Timid, shaking in the officer's silver-lining boots as though a beast has approached the officer ready to slaughter. The prisoner hears the faint breath of everyone in the room. The inmate wonders, "what is going to happen to 4672?"

The officer stood up high in the grassy-green uniform, with night hair, and spoke words that everyone hopes not to hear. "4672 is being sent to the Time Reap for treason, thievery, and offensive dialect." The room was silent, still. Everyone was still like water in a peaceful lake, water in a pond although peace is yet to come.

The prisoner knew what was happening, the prisoner's mind tried to fight it off but to no avail. The prisoners were being punished, a

punishment even death could not cure and couldn't compensate for on this ruinous ground. "The Time Reap." The Prisoners were released from the steel, rusted, cold metal shackles that rubbed against the prisoner's ankles in agony with a red mark and skin peeling. The prisoner felt the cool air, giving light kisses to his ankles as he endured the limited amount of freedom. Walking back from the room the cold airbrushes the prisoner's shoulders. The convict saw the white, drywalls. The prisoner saw the steel cold bars of the cells of the inmates. The officer was tugging the ragged shirt, pinching the prisoner's skin which was turning red. The convict looks at his jail-cell. Being thrown aggressively back into the dungeon, the prisoner is being tagged. An officer approaches the prisoner in the cell.

"Stick forward your hand." The prisoner obliged the officer's command, sticking the flimsy hand out to the public. The man took out a fiery torch and lit the stamp. The stamp glowed, shining like orange hot lava ooze. The prisoner trembled and feared the hand being blemished and incapacitated. The officer stuck the hand back and pushed the hot fierce stamp onto the prisoner's skin.