The Room

The stone walls are dark and dreary. Covered with moss. The only source of light, of hope is three small holes in the stone above. I hear the drip of water. It forms into a stagnant pool in the corner. It attracts no rats, no snakes; I am sealed within like a prison. The stone structure is just a room, nothing more. Just a square box of stone, keeping me from the world beyond, a world for which I yearn to see. I long to taste the night air; to feel a cool breeze on my naked flesh, for that is all I am, naked. I sit here in this room, in this prison, nothing more than myself. No worldly possessions, nothing to define me outside of the content of my character. The only thing not constructed of stone or of flesh in this room is a small steel chair. Its fierce cold runs through my buttocks and reminds me of the harshness of this place. I do not know why I am here or how I got here, all I know is I just want out. I rub my calloused hands on the rough stone walls, but find no comfort. I just want out. I taste the moss grooving within the cracks, not in fear of hunger, but in fear that I may never taste the outside world again. I just want out. I push my face into the cold, murky pool in the corner; I just want to feel the purest substance in the world, even in its most corrupted form. I want to see the world with my own eyes one last time, totally uncorrupted, pure and serene. I long to run through the fields of my youth, and recapture my innocence. I just want out.  I have to get out, I must. I begin to look around for an escape. There has to be one, they mustn’t have built this stone prison around me. Had they? There was not a door to be found. Even the floor is stone, I cannot dig. I just want out. I hear nothing; the world inside is closed off from the beautiful songs of the outside world. I begin to search frantically, as if all the air in the room has been sucked out. I have to get out. Suddenly I realize the water must come from somewhere! I rush into the small pool, feeling the crisp cold on my bare feet. It is the best feeling I have ever had. Hope rushes through me. I find the source of the water, a miniscule crevice in the corner of the wall. It’s so small I can’t see out of it, but I can see light flooding through when I put my eyes close. I have to get out. I scamper over to the chair and, brandishing it like a war axe, I begin to attack the wall with endless fury. The crack widens, bigger and bigger, I will get out. The wall gives forth and it crumbles beneath my will. I peer out into the world beyond, overflowing with excitement! The earth is scorched, the trees wilted with despair. There is an intense heat, an intense hatred for life. No beautiful bird sings its praises to the skies. The air I so longed for is murky and filled with disease. The world I once knew is no more, all that is left is death and decay and war. I just want to curl up into a ball, locked in a room with four walls, no door.