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The Interrogation

How long had it been? He had tried to keep track in the beginning, counting the minutes, the hours, the days. But each time the cell door opened and the sessions began, the very nature of time mutated – minutes indistinguishable from hours, hours indistinguishable from days.

Pain drove off coherent thought. The searing, unrelenting agony left no room for anything else. In fact, it seemed to him now that just the promise of pain, the sound of the creaking hinges as the door opened, was enough to fracture his fragile mind.

“There are things,” they would say to him. “Things we want to know. Things you will tell us.” And then they would begin. And he would tell them things. Any things. All things.

When he mercifully passed out, there was no way of knowing how long his reprieve. Except to know it was never long enough. But he no longer feared dying. He knew there were things much worse than dying. Like waiting to die.

How long had it been? He no longer cared. Instead he wondered how much longer it would be.

prison cell

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Welcome to Day 23 of the Second Third Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing. Today’s prompt was There Are Things and it was brought to you by the Academy Award nominee for Best Supporting Blogger In A Cheesy Drama, CheesyMike.

Please click on the links below to visit the other people participating in this challenge. They’ve got things too.

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  • mikewjattoomanymornings

    Well that’s a bit gloomy, isn’t it? I remember my time in the cell so much more fondly…

  • I’m not sure but I don’t think that’s what Jepeto had in mind when he asked you about a little S&M.

  • I’m running a little behind, but I’ll be back to catch up with everyone later.

  • Along the same lines as the movie Mr. VZ and I watched last night. More likely, the movie HE watched last night. I had to keep walking away from the screaming and torture. Fun times at the VZ Ranch.

  • You capture the mind of one imprisoned and tortured as if you’ve been there yourself… I’ve never trusted that fucking Jepeto. Seriously. Nice work, Nicky.

  • That was painfully awesome the way you got inside the mind of the tortured.

  • Hmm, I guess I should show my prisoners a little more compassion.. Amazing piece, Nicky, chilling to the bone.

  • frankleemeidere

    So who is the narrator? The reason I ask is because, well — I haven’t seen Paula Wooter in a while, and I know that she was trying to run away from you, but managed to end up in Montreal and — well, I was just wondering. You know. Curious.

  • ReformingGeek

    Oh, you have kids, don’t you? Kidding.

    That was a chilling piece, beautifully written.

  • This was delightfully dark. I’ve run out of ideas on this challenge. You seem to be rising in intensity and I falter and fade.

  • I don’t know, Frank. I’ll have to ask around. I’m sure it won’t take long for me to find out. 🙂

  • Pingback: Prosaic Shades of Gray » » You Shall Not Sit()

  • Damn. That truly gave me the chills.

  • First of all, that was unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. Also… it sounds like my last two days with the stomach flu. JUST like it!

  • KZ

    I admire you for going to these kinds of places for your blog entries. All of my material just seems mundane in comparison. Anyhow, well done.

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