I was taken shuffling with steel on my wrists and ankles to a large, vile concrete world filled with lunatics, who for breakfast fed on excreta and sucked on the dribbling erections of fellow inmates.
My cell was to be shared with a misfit named Leaf Gritt, who licked the walls with ideas of escape and spoke sexually about his long dead aunt. His crotch was rubbed a lot. Hell had no other world.
We were locked up twenty three hours a day, but the exercise period offered little relief.
Once I actually witnessed a hulk of a man put rotten meat on his tongue and let a fat python crawl into his mouth and disappear into his intestines. In this doorway to death it was considered normal sport.
Back in the cell Leaf tried biting into his bony wrists, a feeble attempt at suicide because the governor had aleady removed his teeth after a previous manic spell.
I sobbed, my tears turning into laughing wolves on the tiled floor. Even my sorrow turning on me.
In the sixth flick of sleep the governor summoned me. My cell mate cried for me and got his eyeballs sucked out. With arms bound in barbed wire, and vine and thorns twisted from ankles to neck, I stood of a oak table, stinking with lust.
Not wanting to see the beast behind the desk, I slowly lifted my eyes, trying to steel them against suction. It must have been a trick of the dream for the being which sat before me looked normal. I relaxed a little, enough for the thorny chain which bound me to slit a smiling wound into the skin.
The governor stood and paced the chamber for a time as if considering cruel intentions. I felt like Christ, he was my Pilate.
Then when he finally spoke something did unnerve me. I noticed that each time he said the word PAIN, or mentioned anything PAINFUL, his eyes would change from a beautiful blue to a glowing, sickening yellow. My flesh froze.
He ordered two guards, hideously deformed like a spider and fly in one, to take me to a chapel of rest. I could smell the dead as I was dragged along a corridor.
The chapel itself was tiny, grim and filled with bones. Tufts of muscle and sinew still clung to some, fear heaved in my chest.
The Spiderfly dressed me in a purple shroud, the open casket I was placed in had torn satin walls. And as I lay the governor entered the room.
He had changed his appearance now. A twisted, disabled dove of peace. Never to know why but I smiled a little.
The chains fell in the casket but movement was still impossible. A statue prepared for Death in a gift box.
Still I felt cleansed, as if a cherub had washed me in port the frightened child I had been in the cell had vanished. When one dies then to reach Heaven one must first taste hell. The governor gave me a look of comfort.
A crucifix of outstanding gold that gave no doubt of there being a God was heated until it turned white and placed on my chest. I was in a state of bliss, in a natural high. I turned on a cotton cloud, no longer in the hellish dungeon but in a cradle. I demanded another dreamscape.
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
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