Memories In Ink

Prolouge

     The sudden thud of footsteps echoing through the dense dark hall woke me from my slumber. As my eyes slowly open ajar, I could hear the distinct metallic jingle of keys. The cell door screeched as it came to a sudden halt against the concrete wall. The footsteps grew in sound as they were advancing in my direction. I kept my eyes closed, only hoping they would think I was dead and leave me at my peace. A strong, small hand gripped the neck of my torn shirt and jerked me to the ground.
      As the dust settled I could see the dark face of a Japanese soldier staring back at me in disgust. As he got closer to me a rotten  apple hit the ground, creating a small thud in the dirt next to my head. "Eat!" The soldier said in his broken English. I looked up at him through my swollen purple eye and spit full force into his face. The soldier grunted and grabbed me by the hair, as he slammed me up against the concrete wall. As the room was spinning, he began laying his fist into my side, each hit creating more pain than the last. The soldier then proceeded to spin me around and raised his small fist up to my swollen face. I squinted in fear of the next blow. I could hear a soldier yelling at him from the other side of the cell through my shattered breathing. The soldier backed away from me, staring at my frail, bruised body in disgust. The soldier left the cell and walked out into the camp.
I pushed myself up off of the hard dirt floor, my lips leaving a puddle of blood next to my feet. I looked down at the rotten apple. I was starving, and had no choice. I reached down to grab the apple and held it up into the light. I walked over to the window in my cell, to shine light on my well deserved meal. As the sunlight shined upon the apple, a small worm poked its head out from the surface. I grabbed with worm in disgust, I threw it down ready to stomp it, but something stopped me. I looked down at the innocent worm, and picked it up. Although it was a small meaningless creature, I felt sympathy for it, comparing him to my stand point. I set the worm on the ledge. "Go free now little buddy, don't be a prisoner like me." The small green work crawled towards the sunlight. I grabbed the iron bars, looking out at the ocean, hoping to see a rescue plane. Nothing. No one was coming. Some days, I could remember my name, other days, I couldn't. I walked over to the wall that had my days marked. So far I counted 152 days. I stepped over to the hard, cold cot in the cell, and reached underneath it. I pulled out a small, pocket sized journal. This journal had a very solid meaning to me. Whenever I couldn't remember, I would write about things I did.
I began writing once I realized my memory was fading from me. It wasn't easy, once a man full of so many emotions, I couldn't remember who I was, where I was, or even where I came from. I eased onto the cot and opened the stained journal on my lap. Once again, to remind myself of who I was, I had to start from the beginning. I flipped to the page titled home, and quietly began reading in the dimly lit cell.