Greedfell

"A sinister system, administered symptoms that became the plague of their mission. It's a risk for prison but a necessary decision."

Neil had been made to understand that this was a quote from some ancient founding visionary. Every time he asked why they had kidnapped him, that's all he'd get. A cryptic quote.

For six years, Neil had been a prisoner, and he didn't know why. He hadn't been mistreated or tortured, which made him strongly consider the fact that his captors were instead, the most naive bunch of clowns that could exist. He now had a concern that his captors are...sheeple.

This concern became valid when he poked at the elephant a little. However, he was not ready for what happened next.

"So how much do you guys think I'm worth?" Neil asked one day when his evening meal was delivered. "You guys know it's a black book scam right?" The person to deliver the food looked confused and afraid to make a decision. However, one choice was hardwired into their brains that made things a bit easier. Flight.

That was early in his peaceful incarceration. Several months had to pass before someone would initiate communication with him and denounce his claim to validity.

"The organization behind Black Book schemes dwells within the realm of conspiracy theory and urban legend. Our mission is based in fact and truth." Said the voice on the other side of the door. Visual contact had been banned the day Neil asked his question.

"And so, I remain a prisoner to sheep in wolf's clothing. Fantastic." He grumbled after awhile. his situation never really seemed to improve until one day it did.

"All my life I been a black, black sheep. But I got beef, with Rudyard Kipling. Talkin' about leopards and spots, whatcha know about shepards and flocks and clorox bleach. Redemption ain't cheap. I put my demons in eternal R.E.M. sleep because I wear this crown, heavy on my brow, forged in darkness not a halo to be proud. Reminiscent of a golden circlet famous for completing Tolkein's purpose with a fellowship of wraiths, I slip from faith an' chase the fate of an addict facing checkmate. Pull back the shroud of doubt, the time is now, I hide my dirty black crown by flipping up the cowl. Definition of crazy, opposite of normal. But how do you expose normal without sounding insane? Empty inside, hollow. I put on my mask an' gingerly step through my hearts broken glass as avarice compels. History is finally overtaken with a thousand petals onyx from afflicted tribulation." Neil smiled. He liked to read his poems after he finished them.

"Wow. That's crazy. How can you just sit in there and write those?" Came a voice from the outside. Neil stared at the door with one eyebrow arched. Skeptical that his lame poetry, after six years, is what would get someone's attention.

"Uh, yeah, well what else am I going to do. It's masturbate and write poetry." Neil still regarded the door with suspicion. It's probably a trap.

"So...I've always found poets and musicians really fascinating." The voice said sheepishly.

"Listen man, I just write these things for fun. They are mid-tier at best. But, thanks."

"I'm being serious. You're very good. In fact, I was wondering if you could write something for me."

"Well I was just wondering if you could tell me why I've been brought here?" Neil asked a bit harshly. The voice on the other side of the door didn't seem bothered by the sharp retort.

"Do I have your word though?" The voice asked.

"Uh yeah. It's just a dumb poem. Yeah, I'll write you something."

An odd silence filled the gap between when the person on the side of the door was supposed to respond to Neil. Neil's heart began to flutter a bit as his anxiety levels escalated. This silence was torture.

"You're on a list, that says you win the Generational Lottery, One Billion Dollars."

"That's a Freaking Scam, Bro! Are you kidding me? It's not real. Lemme outta here! This, is a scam!" Neil growled in rage as he rushed the door to pound on it, punctuating his claim.

"But, you gave your word." The voice complained.

"Let me out of this prison. I'll write you whatever you like?"

"I can't let you out. You're too valuable."

"What's more valuable?" Neil asks sincerely. "Something you can touch or something you cannot?"

"Is this a trick?"

"The answer is, something you can touch. you can touch the paper my poetry is written on. You can preserve it for at least the rest of your life. You can read it, cherish it. You can relive the emotions that bleed from the ink. Or, do you want to wait for a billion dollars? Free me and I'll write you a book of poems."

The door lock clicks loudly then unbolts. The door swings open. A man is in the doorway. A strong looking man. An experienced one.

"What guarantee do I have? I'm risking a lot."

"Listen, I've never subscribed to this destiny stuff. That all children are born with a Lottery number. Maybe it's real, maybe it's not. It's probably just another yoke of control. But hey, if my battery is real, you can have half. And, I'll write you a book of poems."

"Okay."

22 Years Later

Neil and Troy have become very successful over the years since Neil's incarceration. Troy, his one time captor, now lifelong buisness partner, enjoy lavish royalties from all the poetry that Neil had written during the six years of captivity.

When Neil had finished with Troy's book, Troy hired a Literary Agent and had the Work published.

Well, one day, Neil gets a call. He learns that his boat has come in and his number has been drawn for the lottery.

He reports to the state sector where he patiently waits for the results and money. Neil recieves $20,000. He heads straight back to his friend Troy and gives him his promised $10,000.

When Neil tells him the truth of why he was recieving this money, Troy almost collapsed into tears. The news was such a good humor to him that he felt he could almost pass from this world from the joy of the moment.

Troy's giggles calm and subside like the ebbing of the tide under a chill moon. Neil half smiled at his friend trying to understand the reason for his impossible laughter.

"What's so funny?" Neil asks.

"Over 2 decades ago we held you hostage because of some elaborate scam. For a billion dollars. With all the content you produced being couped up in that room all day, we're at about a billion dollars in sales. This 10k is a reminder of where we came from. And...the strength of a man's word."