smile..
I could hear the thud of footsteps growing louder every passing second. I caught myself smiling at the mirror. The image was to stay in my mind for a long time. I knew they were coming for me. It was inevitable.
The daily beatings is a distant vague blur .Yes, there were scars or the probe of blunt objects up my rear. I clearly remember the insane churlish laughter ebbing away after what seemed to be everlasting sessions of torture.
It was there I saw him for the first time. He was in a cell diagonally placed to mine. Grey locks with swollen lips. A new scar seemed to adorn him every day. He clearly was their favorite. He was defeated. A mere shell of what once was probably a kindred soul.
We were destined for solitary confinement. We could not talk to the other inmates for the fear of being pulled up or the sheer exhaustion the effort would cause.
We are human claimed the prison guards. Sure , apostles of everything possibly human.
It was a usual day , nothing really marked it out from others. Not that it made any difference. He began his devilish howl that day . There was a sense of palpitation building up. I could see a group of guards charging in. One stuffed a baton in his mouth. The other crashed a baton on his skull , again and again. Then there was blood. A tiny rivulet .Sparkling and fresh. The guards rushed out. They knew they had unwittingly let the dogs out. I hear a howl from the next cell. Another one joins in. There is this primeval urge in me. It bursts forth with unmitigated intensity. The guards rush out quivering and wary.
The howling reaches its crescendo and the image floats back again. A chiseled face. Glowing eyes. Thin fingers. Surprisingly strong enough to be wielding a tradesman’s hack saw. In the background there was blood. The place was bathed in blood. And my face was smiling . Smiling at my trophy. A decapitated head. I called her goldilocks. Smiling at my massive carton box .Smiling at my collection of other goldilocks.
The daily beatings is a distant vague blur .Yes, there were scars or the probe of blunt objects up my rear. I clearly remember the insane churlish laughter ebbing away after what seemed to be everlasting sessions of torture.
It was there I saw him for the first time. He was in a cell diagonally placed to mine. Grey locks with swollen lips. A new scar seemed to adorn him every day. He clearly was their favorite. He was defeated. A mere shell of what once was probably a kindred soul.
We were destined for solitary confinement. We could not talk to the other inmates for the fear of being pulled up or the sheer exhaustion the effort would cause.
We are human claimed the prison guards. Sure , apostles of everything possibly human.
It was a usual day , nothing really marked it out from others. Not that it made any difference. He began his devilish howl that day . There was a sense of palpitation building up. I could see a group of guards charging in. One stuffed a baton in his mouth. The other crashed a baton on his skull , again and again. Then there was blood. A tiny rivulet .Sparkling and fresh. The guards rushed out. They knew they had unwittingly let the dogs out. I hear a howl from the next cell. Another one joins in. There is this primeval urge in me. It bursts forth with unmitigated intensity. The guards rush out quivering and wary.
The howling reaches its crescendo and the image floats back again. A chiseled face. Glowing eyes. Thin fingers. Surprisingly strong enough to be wielding a tradesman’s hack saw. In the background there was blood. The place was bathed in blood. And my face was smiling . Smiling at my trophy. A decapitated head. I called her goldilocks. Smiling at my massive carton box .Smiling at my collection of other goldilocks.
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