Chapter 28

UNKNOWN

My memory had dimmed drastically ever since I had been brought here.

I was a man with good robust health and full of zest for life. Now, I had become a husk --- a shell of my former self.

I was a full - bodied man when I was alive.

No, I was not alive now. This was not living. This was more like the living - dead.

I could feel my ribs poking out of my skin. My legs were little more than prods, an extension of my laps. I no longer had much feeling in them anymore. My whole body had emaciated badly. I looked like a skeleton, like the walking dead.

I heard some squeaking in the dimly lit room and knew my friends, the rats, were around. They did not fear me. They constantly crept out of corners, and skittered all over my body, biting and nipping at my already tender skin.

Initially I would whimper with pain from the many bites, but now, I welcomed it. It was a kind of pleasure - pain for me, something to occupy my time and mind. Because of this, my skin constantly itched, but
I was only allowed a bath once a week, and that, only in the night. I was grateful for that. A beggar had no choice after all.

I never saw my captive's face.

For the sake of precaution, I was always told to put my head down when I was led out towards the back in cuffs. There, a bucket of water always waited for me with no soap. Nothing to make me smell better. I would palm the water in my hands, and watch as it slipped through. I was only too glad to feel it course through my fingers.

A strange thing about we humans, was, we don't value things we have until it is taken away from us. I never saw the sunlight since my captivity, not even once, except through the chink of light that slipped through under the door.

I would make sure I was awake early, so I could watch the shadows rising, dispelling the darkness to light. A smile would grace my gaunt face. It was at that point in time, I remembered my life before all this --- how important freedom was to a human being.

I would give anything --- yes, possibly my soul, even, to see my loved one's again. Even if it was just one last time. I would talk with them, hold them and tell them everything would be alright. They just needed to be strong, against the jackals and hyena's of the world. I wouldn't get greedy and ask for anything else. I just wanted to see their faces again.

A moan escaped my parched lips. I yearned for water. I was always thirsty. I was given dry bread to eat once a day and a tiny cup of water to drink from. This type of food did nothing for me. If anything, it made me feel more sick.

I was a feeble old hunan and I valiantly tried not to feel sorry for myself, but it was hard. I tried praying, but that was hard too.

Why pray to a God that wouldn't listen to me. A God that had gotten me into this situation in the first place. I was a Christian who preached to other people, but now, I wondered. Now I doubted if there really was a God.

He was probably fed up of listening to me.

The wind wafting from underneath the door was an indication that behind it, freedom lingered but was beyond my reach.

I bent my head downwards to catch a little of the draft, but nature had decided to be cruel as the wind seized abruptly.

Chains jangled and rattled against my feeble effort to get away from my restraints. They bit into my hands and feet, causing a painful decay to occur. The smell of rotten flesh was pungent and wafted disgustingly in the air. Tears trickled from my eyelids and I let them, unable to wipe them away.

My eyes had seen many joys and tragedies. They had seen many births and deaths. My presently weak and cuffed hands had brought lives to the world, nurtured them and harnessed them for the better.

My dry and parched lips had declared truces, stopped quarrels and healed broken hearts. I regretted nothing.

But my children -- what was to become of the two of them?

My older child could definitely take care of herself, but the younger one; he was still budding, still finding himself, just getting to the cusp of adulthood.

How would he fare in the midst of such treachery?

I had shielded him so much --- too much. If I was given another chance, I would do it all over again.

They were all jackals.

I knew how I had fought to get to where I was.

But no one was there to shield my children from the onslaught I was sure would come.

I had wished for death. I couldn't count how many times I had willed it. I had even prayed for it, yet it was not forthcoming.

What have I done wrong to deserve this treatment?

Why do people wreak so much havoc on others in the quest for power and fame?

I was an old human being, chained up for crimes I knew nothing about.

I felt the familiar cycle start all over again.

Anger flowed through my weak veins, followed quickly with sorrow --- heavy sorrow burdened my heart. I clutched at it, doubling over with pain.

Then fear quickly took precedence, replacing sorrow.
It seized me, making me weak and immobile.

The spasms would follow much later.

This time, maybe death would come.

I would welcome it with open arms.

A/N: Any guess as to who this person is?

I actually cried while writing this short, but very important chapter.

Please don't forget to drop your comments and vote.

Thank you.

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