Buzz. This was how it had been since the beginning. The beginning – when his daughter had disappeared, when the men had arrived and sent him on a one way trip to hell and when life as he knew it was snatched away from his hands.
Often, the man would weep. There would be times when great remorse flooded through him and he would remember what he had done. What he had done. Warped images would fill his mind and he would grab his throat, but he was a weak man— to weak to end it all and the images would still come – a man struggling in a large expanse of water, followed swiftly by three mountain peaks between two ridges. But the clearest image would be of a woman in his arms, blood erupting from her chest like a blooming rose, forming a bloody puddle on the floor.
Then the pain would come. There would be a dry stab in the back of his throat, and then tears would begin to form on his wide eyes. He would cry and cry but the sorrow would not subside. He would remember the happy days when he had walked with Joanne (for that was his daughter’s name) and they had sang merry tunes together, just like any normal father and daughter duo would do.
But now they weren’t just a normal father and daughter duo. In fact, they weren’t even a duo anymore. For they had been separated the day when all things had died and withered, when darkness and light had dispersed from his life and all that was left was the pitch-black emptiness of wherever he was right now.
“Cell. You’re in the Prison. The Darkpass Fortress.”
The voice did not come as a surprise to the prisoner. It had regularly come to torture him during the days (or was it months, or even years?) he had been at the Prison, as the voice called it.
Wrote this ages ago and never found the motivation to carry on. Maybe I will some day.
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Short Random Tidbits
RandomA collection of story openings, writing exercises and flash fiction. Genres range from historical fiction, sci-fi, non-fiction, fantasy and . . . everything else.
