If a child ever wonders what it's like outside, you'll know it's bad.
The child wasn't much of a talker, and he most definitely wasn't the bravest kid out there.
But curiosity isn't something that can be stopped or just forgotten.
Imagine something better other than the buzzing flickering lights flashing onto your face everyday. In the same place, over and over and over.
Same routine, same thing.
What's a sun? What's a moon?
What's a blue sky look like?
Does things like this exist?
Perhaps they're only just pictures in a small fantasy book. Not that the child had ever read one.
He had seen things different than what most children had probably seen. Not the pictures in storybooks, not the talking moving drawings in those flashing technology boxes. But the dull image of rusted steel, sharp needles, and probably other things a child might not even imagine.
The sound of blood dripping, splattering onto the floor... The sound of metal scraping against metal, the shrieking agony of suffering, just right beside your ear.
The smell of mold, and who knows what. Waste, or corpses? Why would the child even want to know?
If, if only..
The feeling of sunlight brushing against your skin was more frequent than the depressing and moist air always surrounding you.
If only, the sound of birds chirping, a melodic tune played in the air instead of the constant sounds of angry yelling.
If only...
If only what?
What is it like outside, anyway?
Is it always this dark and depressing, the air always so moist and suffocating...? Am I stuck, in this dark room, this dark box, forever?
What have I done, ever?
Hopefully, this was a dream.
Yes, a dream. A nightmare of some sort.
Hopefully, it wouldn't repeat over and over.
Again,
And again,
And again,
And again,
And again,
And again...
So it is forever, then.
This isn't fantasy, where a hero would save its victims so easily. There isn't always light at the end of the tunnel.
That light may as well be created when you've driven so far into insanity.
Or, just an illusion. From your own exhaustion.
Sometimes, when you reach a hand out into the so called light right at the supposed end of the tunnel, you'll find something else against your cold palm.
A cold brick wall, completely blocking your sight.
And then darkness finds its way back again.
..........
Scared, hm?
