Overthrown?

Punishments

Around midnight the ship I felt start to slow.

Through the sad excuse of a porthole I caught a glimpse of my castle. What I noticed right away was the destruction. The kingdom that once sent a warm glow to everyone. A symbol of freedom and fair labours was now dull and lifeless. The flag that stood in the square that represented the royal family's health was black a symbol of the family's death. But, how could that be I'm alive I thought panicked. That means that Evelyn was either killed or they don't know of her fate. A flagman lives in the old brick house in the square and is in charge of the flag. Same as earlier the man who brought our food returned and slammed the door open just the same. But instead of food he had rope and a black sack. First he went to Timothy's cell.

"Get up." he stated simply.

Doing as he was told Timothy got up slowly and outstretched his hand. Palms up a few inches apart. It was standard procedure. The image reminded me of when I was younger and my father took me to the prison with him. He said even though my mother greatly disagreed that I needed to understand punishment If I was to become queen one day. I remember walking slowly down the uneven steps tightly clutching my fathers arm so I wouldn't get lost. There were tunnels everywhere. And the voices. I dreamt of them every night. Every direction you turned people were wailing and screaming. They shrieked they were innocent and would get revenge. I saw things I never should have seen not at that age or in my life. People were beaten, burned, electrocuted, stabbed. Guards were shaving peoples hair of to be sent to the electric chair.Their wales as the burning charges fried their insides were permanently etched in my mind. All the while my father keep repeating they deserved it it was necessary. On the outside he seemed like a caring controlled man on the inside he was heartless cruel monsters. When they say all monsters are human they weren't kidding.

BAM!

The sound of the rusted metal door of my cell swinging open cleared the fog of my memories. I shuffled up and opened my hands just as Timothy had done so. He knotted the rope in a skilled intricate pattern to insure my captivity. But unlike Timothy he shoved the black sack over my head. A simply a precaution in said in falsely trying to persuade my own mind. The man puts a rough hand on my back and leads me forward.Taking quick small steps I feel the air around me turn cool and salty.Okay so we must be above deck.Okay I can handle this I can do it. Taking a deep breath I realize from living on a beach my whole life not feeling the breeze for simply a nigh really affects you.The man continues to lead me forward the gentle sway of the ship make my steps difficult but I pursue on. He leads me off the ship and onto a rocky path. Thinking back to the cell he didn't put a sack on Timothy's head. Thats strange. I stop in my tracks shocked the people. They think i'm dead. A metal pole slams into the back of my knees. Makeing me collapse to the ground.Throwing my hands out to stop my fall just in time I gingerly stand.A salty breath whispers in my ear.

"Don't hold traffic up sweaty" he breaths snarkily.

Clenching my hands together as not to do anything stupid. I wince I had scrapped my hands when I fell.Who am I kidding? I wouldn't do anything.Once again we approach another door. Once again the door was thrown open and i'm pushed inside.The horrid screams and pleas of prisoners overwhelms my senses.Not the dungeons. No.They cant take me hear.Anywhere else. Screaming I bring my bound hands to my head to block out the noise. Its not working. They don't help they just make it worse. The voices bubble and crash herself into my skull.Like a hot blazing fire begging to be put out.They bounce off the inside hitting each other. Screaming I fall to the ground.The man continues to hit me with the pole.Its nouse the voices have started to heat away at mm insanity. Each one pulls a thread of my reality from my minds rug. Until They unravel it to dust. Screaming I bring my hands to my head and pound on the solid flesh.Trying to extract the horrible wails of pain. Thrashing around and bangging my head into the rough uneven ground the creams of torture are engraved into my mind.The man continues to beat me with the rechead pole. With one last final outburst I plumet my head into the edge of the step. I roll to the side like a limp ragdoll. The world spins and the voices are gone.With one last swing the man slams the pole into the back of my neck.I arch my back and fall to the ground. The world sears red then black.And I fall into a deep unconsciousness that I truly wish to never escape from.