In these dark rooms where I pass such listless days, I wander up and down looking for the windows – when a window opens there will be some relief. But there are no windows, or at least I cannot find them. And perhaps it’s just as well. Perhaps the light would prove another torment. Who knows what new things it would reveal? The Window - C.P. Cavafy
I cry in the corner, my tears don’t glisten, my vision doesn’t blur. I only know my hands are at my eyes wiping away the tears when I feel them get wet and salty. I have felt over every single inch of this room and I know, just like the back of my hand, there are no windows. No cracks of any kind line the walls of this hell. The walls are smooth, alien. The touch, slightly charged, static. They move on me while I sleep. Sometimes they come closer, others they seem to be drifting away. I check them every time I wake up. Though I can’t be sure whether I wake up or not.
…
It is darkness, complete. My eyes don’t work anymore, obsolete. This would work better as a poem, lets see it:
The walls a static object
Yet they ebb and flow like the waves
Like the waves off the coast with the sun rising over the horizon
The red explosion of color that issues in a new wave of life across the planet
How I yearn for them
I really want to see the sun again
What I would give to feel the warmth
Or have it blind me
But I would hurt
It, the sun would hurt me
I have no clue how long I have been in here
And my skin must be as white as a ghost by now
I would be as red as that sunrise if I even got a moment under its rays
I don’t think a poem will work
…
If you are reading this it means light has come to the world again. I am carving this on the floor. I hope everything is lined up correctly. I don’t remember where I started writing but I will keep on writing every day. THERE ARE NO DAYS. Just listless hours to wander between unknown passages of sleep. Or this could be the sleep?
…
DAY III
I have checked my left wall. There is nothing there. I detest the feeling of it. The soft fuzzy cushion of a carpeted wall. All of the walls are carpet and they are sticky. I don’t know what they are sticky with and I shiver at what it could be that gives me such an unsettling tactile. There is no way out on that wall. I wonder how they put me in here. That was the fourth wall I checked and there is no sign of a doorway. It is possible that I accidentally checked one wall twice. With this blindness I could never be sure.
…
Day 8?
I have ripped at the walls. My bloody fingernails ripping against the horrid fabric of my containment. I am making progress in destroying that which is containing me. Soon I will be free!
…
Where the hell am I? I have screamed for help but no one is here. There is only darkness. I can only feel the floor below me as I carve into it. I have no other choice to entertain myself but to carve these words and read them with my fingers until I get out of here. I don’t even know what happened. Last thing I remember is telling my friend goodbye and driving home. It was raining and
…
I am going crazy! I cannot get out! Please, Please! Let me out of here! I can’t even hear myself scream in the dark. I cannot see. I cannot hear. My olfactory senses have given up after the relentless assault from my feces in the corner. I have not eaten, at least I don’t remember the last time I ate, or drank anything. I am dying and nobody is coming to save me. I am going to die in the dark. I wish This is my second day ripping down the curtains. I know there are windows behind them! I just need to dig through the carpets to get to them!
Have I not been carving these in the same spot?
…
I can see the light now. It is there! A single crack in the corner. I have tried to peel at it but my fingers are now raw. I can only bask in its brilliance and wait it seems. Soon I will be free from hell. Soon
…
Day?
There are no days. There are no days. There are no days in the darkness. There is no time in the darkness. There is no night in the darkness. I am here and there is simply nothing. No time, no days, nor hours, minutes or seconds. There is no hunger or thirst. There is nothing. There is no hope. There is no escape. I am going to die, though there may be no death? There is nothing, darkness is nothing. I am nothing!
There are no days.
There are no days.
There are no days.
There are no days.
There are no days.
THERE ARE NO DAYS!!!
…
Is it really the end of days? Has the sun disappeared and left us in little boxes for our protection? Is this a blessing?
…
I was driving. It was raining. I remember. I don’t remember? What do I remember? I said bye. I got in my car and began to drive. There were lights. The rain had lights. I have been abducted by aliens? Why do they have carpets on their walls in their spaceships then? Carpets are human. Aliens are not. Why am I here? Why is there nothing in this room except the carpet walls and the, the me in here all alone?
…
I can see light!
…
I will tear down that damn carpet if it's the last thing I do!
…
I love you Melissa. You can have all my possessions. The light is a lie. I don’t want to be outside. I am happy to die here with my best friend. Melissa, you are the best. Though you should shave more, you are all hairy. But I love you for that. I want to die in your arms.
“Well, she lasted longer than the others.”
“Ten days and 14 hours.”
“I feel sorry for her. She almost made it through.”
“Catalog everything it wrote down then clean it up and send in the next one.”
“Don’t you feel bad for them? Even a little bit?”
“It’s science, they’d do it to us.”