Saturday, 26 October 2013
Notes from prison by Donald Tombia
Hope everyone is enjoying the weekend?
For those that I've been waiting for it, here is the part 3 of the story from our featured writer this month.
Hope you're loving it so far?
The story continues....
The cell suddenly darkened. The air became unbearably heavy. The janitor froze; he knew something was terribly wrong. The beagle had not stopped and this time he could hear shouts and hurried voices in the distance. Cold beads of sweat immediately covered his whole body and his breathing became laboured. The only source of light was from the entrance of the cell and if the light was out it meant the entrance was blocked.
This presence, this aura.
He had never felt anything like this before. He wasn’t a dumb man, he knew what this meant. He pieced it all together; the morning’s proposed execution, the non-stop noise from the beagle and the darkening of the cell. Fear had fled from his side, leaving in his wake Death and the shakes. Slowly he raised his lead-heavy head. His brain retreated into its shell as his eyes locked with that of McCallugen Kam Timothy!!!
The janitor pissed himself.
His pants darkened at the groin as he wet himself. The janitor instantly recounted his whole life in less than 5 seconds. 'Has it been worth it? What have I lived for? At this end of my life I realise that the cost of my little or no dream has been the same, my life! But...' his thoughts were interrupted by the booming noise that erupted in the room. The janitor saw the world crumble like a pack of cards.
The janitor could feel the goosebumps appear on his skin. He shivered at the mere sound ofMcCallugen's voice. His voice sounded cool, almost sleek black. The janitor tried replying but his throat was flat dry. The large room now seemed smaller than an elevator. The janitor opened his mouth and stuttered, “My na...name...My na...” He mentally shook himself as he thought, 'I am dead meat if I continue at this rate'. “My na...my name…” He cleared his throat nervously at last. “My name is Sebastian.”
“Sa-ba-s-tein.” McCallugen says slowly. The janitor was about to correct him when a voice in his head spat, 'Correct him and die!' Moments decide fate.
“Sabastein, what you do?” asked McCallugen quietly looking at the notes scattered all over the floor at the janitor's feet. He said it so quietly that it almost sounded kind. The janitor was shocked at the tone. He expected to be scared but it actually gave him the impetus to think he could actually reason with this hardened criminal.
“Well...” The janitor began, after weighing his options - the little he had. He recounted how he had been called to clean the cell and had found the notes whilst doing that. He spoke of how he always felt the pains McCallugen felt. The janitor paused from time to time and sawMcCallugen listening with rapt attention. The only sound other than his voice and their breathing was the ceaseless sound of the beagle. The janitor laughed nervously when he mentioned that some of the killings were too hardcore for his liking. And then, withoutthinking; like the drunken joker in the king’s palace, he mentioned the name Claire, the slain love of McCallugen's life.
“Stop!” exclaimed McCallugen as he exuded fury. McCallugen vented as he grabbed hold of the cell gate and with a loud scream he began squeezing it, eventually breaking the whole gate from the wall. At this surge of new rage, the janitor, for the second time that night, pissed himself. He felt his knees buckle as he became aware of his exceeding stupidity. Hehad taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit. Now he was seeing evil.
His head pounded as he heard McCallugen’s breathing come in heavy sounds. And then the words of his preacher came back to him. “Jesus will save you. He is your ever present help in the time of need” said the preacher that Sunday morning. “Preacher, is your Jesus stronger than McCallugen? Is he?” said the janitor as he began crying.
He looked up and saw McCallugen looking up to the ceiling, heaving heavily, his shoulders rising and falling in anger. The janitor for a fleeting moment wondered who Claire was. And then his mind quickly re-adjusted as wondered if this Jesus could really save him. In resignation and acceptance he closed his eyes and said “Jesus, save me!” The janitor opened his eyes slowly and McCallugen was gone! He looked down and the notes were gone as well.“Huh, was I drea…”
The janitor blacked out.
T H R E E M O N T H S L A T E R
“On the news today: It has been 3 months since the horrendous escape of World Number 1 Most Wanted: McCallugen Kam Timothy from the All Saints’ Prison. McCallugen Timothy broke out using the most ingenious of tactics and the vilest of brutality. The police authorities are promising…”
The news went on and on. The nurse turned off the TV set. “You shouldn’t be watching that. You are lucky to be here. Just in case you don’t fully understand, you are the only man in history who has survived an attack from that Timothy fellow. You should be thanking your stars.” chirped the nurse as she tucked the patient in.
The patient looked on blankly. He didn’t understand what was going on. One day he woke up from a deep sleep which had left him unable to move and he found himself in a prison hospital. He had been told by other patients, nurses, doctors and law enforcement agents; the Independent Detectives Squad (IDP) and the Special Crime Unit (SCU) that he had been attacked by a certain McCallugen Timothy who was allegedly the greatest criminal and he had survived.
It was a miracle, they say. The press had been swarming outside the prison walls to gain entrance in and hear his story. Nobody wanted to believe he had survived. They all chose to believe McCallugen had simply refused to kill him. Some went as far as to purport that he was in on this criminal’s escape.
They all seemed to miss some things though. And one of them was that he was suffering from retrograde amnesia. He seemed to remember only one thing with regards to his life; aphrase and a plea. If everything that had been told him about McCallugen was real, then that phrase contained a certain key.
He couldn’t tell anyone though. He couldn’t mention that the only thing he remembered from his life was him muttering the phrase “Jesus, save me!”
“…so yes, rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your midday medicine.” The nurse concluded.
The patient looked on and then “Please.” he said quietly “who is Jesus?” The nurse looked at him, and smiled.
In a far way resort, a large man lay on the beach. He looked around him and saw people.People walking with people. People talking with people. People being with other people.People in pairs. He gazed at the birds up above. Even they were flying in pairs. A saddened look fell upon him. He picked up a set of notes from the beach sand. And he wrote the word…Claire.
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