In The Darkness

In the darkness, I waved my hands, now tied together, in front of me and could barely see them. With only a small amount of moonlight shining through an oculus above, I could see a few feet in front of me. I was lost in the corner of the walls of stone, trying to figure out how I got here. If it were not for the little black book, I would not have a clue. In my mind were the names of people and places that developed my current predicament. I saw visions of prosperity and things that could be. Twenty-thousand dollars was a lot to me. It helped to shape my understanding of how I could change my life. I was a writer and a poet. Now I cannot see my way clearly.

I found myself looking at this castle as a prison. I was in Scotland’s highlands, wishing that I was back home in Downs, Kansas. I figured that if I could make more money, I could live a peaceful life away from the troubles. I found that trouble finds me. My captors have a sense that I have not known. They seem to understand me in a way that I do not understand myself.

It was not long ago that I had inherited the twenty-thousand dollars from my deceased wife, who had tried to ensure that things were paid for and debts were taken care of. Little had I known that she was involved with a group of people who were as dangerous as the fang-side of a cobra. They seemed to know everything about my work and my disposition. I was also an agent of the government, knowing things that were unknown to many.

My thoughts were interrupted by a door slamming open. A large man in a vibrant white robe, carrying a torch, began to stride toward me, grabbing my hair and dragging me through the door with one giant hand. My hands and feet were bound with a thick rope and was cutting into my skin. I began to scream with pain and rage as I slid across the floor.

In this tumult of writhing to try and escape, I noticed a symbol on his back in the flicker of the flame light. It looked like a demonic panther, blackened, and its eyes seemed to be watching me. I remembered that character in the little black book that my wife had left behind. It was the first thing I noticed when I had opened it. I did not know then that simply opening that book would unleash a hellish journey of pain and suffering.

“This will be the last time,” the man said. I wondered if that were true and what exactly he meant by that. Would he let me go or kill me, or had he done this before?

They told me nothing, and I knew very little about them. It was true that I had opened the book and read the list of names, none that I recognized, but this seemingly innocent act was observed and investigated by none other than members of this mysterious organization. I began to cry, not just about my current situation but also about how my wife could have been a part of this. Now I felt the grip of death slowly clenching its boney fingers around my throat.

Unfortunately, I did not have any means of communication with me. I had been knocked out and transported here somehow. It was not long after I had opened that book. Only a few minutes, maybe. I had not even had a chance to take care of my affairs with the money that my wife had left me. I did not know what to do at this point but fight as hard as I could.

A large tuft of hair ripped from my scalp and left a bloody wound on the surface of my head. The man dropped me accidentally and then reached down, picking me back up again by another section of hair. It seemed like eternity before I saw anything else besides stone walls. We seemed to be going outside. I could see the stars as my back scraped across the threshold and onto the cobbled stone walkway leading out of the castle. Was I saved, or was I facing something much more sinister?

I heard screaming and humming from somewhere in the direction we were traveling. I realized then that the man was taking me somewhere I did not want to be. The screams grew louder, and I could tell they were coming from a woman. Suddenly, the man dropped me onto the ground, and two more picked me up by the pits of my arms. They pulled me to a strange totem pole and started tying rope around my torso, lashing me to the pole. The humming grew louder, and I looked to my right. I could not believe that I was looking into my wife’s face, in the same predicament.

I began to cry tears of joy, almost forgetting everything that was going on around us. She was my world and my life, but how was she alive? I saw her in the coffin, buried in the ground. She had died in the hospital. Yet, now she was here beside me, she looked at me and smiled meekly, tears flowing down her cheeks and dripping heavily onto the ground below. Then the realization hit me like a train; we were still hanging here, ready for God knows what to happen to us.

I looked back at our captors. They were preparing a knife in some ritualistic fashion, and they intended to use it. Something happened to me then. I was immediately filled with the fury of a hurricane. I began to twist my wrist over and over as if to saw off my hand. I thrashed about and tried everything to get free.

Nevertheless, it was no use. The people in the white robes had us. We were going to die. I never thought I would ever be in this situation in my life. I knew now that there was no way to escape. I would never get to hold my wife again, I would never be able to use the money she gave me, and I would never again breathe the cold, clean air. They slowly approached in succession, still humming some tune that I was not familiar with, and it was ominous.

They began to shuffle toward us in a double file, then split down the middle, creating a circle around the two poles. I could not see their faces because the hoods on their robes were shadowing their visage. Once the circle was complete, a single figure stepped forward in front of us, wielding the cold steel blade. He began to wave the dagger in a circular motion in the air, then brought it closer to my face.

I could feel the heat from my face draining as the frost from the blade drew nearer. Its cold likeness was now pressing against my cheek. He slid the blade and the point down my face, creating a painful laceration. I could feel the skin separating around the metal and piercing my flesh. Blood dripped down my chin and began to dribble onto the dirt surface at my feet. Again and again, he sliced through various parts of my body, leaving me bleeding and screaming in agony. I could feel myself draining fast. I felt dizzy, and I began to lose consciousness. I do not know what happened next because everything went dark.

I know that I woke up in the castle dungeon again, with the moonlight shining through the circular hole in the ceiling again. Nothing seemed to be wrong. I was not bound, and I was curled up in the corner of the stone room. I did not have any cuts, my scalp was intact, and I could feel the cold air rushing under the door. Was it a nightmare? Why was it so vivid, and how did I feel every last thing? I could not understand what had happened. Was my wife alive? Was I even alive myself? All I have is questions and no answers as I sit here in the darkness.