16 Feb 2015

Short Story | The Black Walls

For a long time now I have been writing endless stories in notebooks, my laptop, my school books...anywhere there was a pen available. It's a such a creative output and beneficial hobby to have. But best of all, there are no rules. You have the freedom to let your fingers do the talking- your brain monumentality lost in the world of the character's you have created. And there is nobody but you to judge. I have always had the underlying ambition to become a publish author but just been to afraid to share my work with the world. I write about my life everyday, yet I can't bring myself to show you my more creative side. So today I have sucked it up, so to speak, and written a little something for you all. 

This is not a particularly nice story, I should warn you, but it came about as I sat here thinking about all of the people, past and present, who have been accused and killed for a crime they never committed. The reality of that is so sad and unjust. An innocent person exploited by the law. So I wrote this, although I am still unsure whether the character is a girl or boy. 



The mist lifted, as if a curtain was being parted, and the rusted iron gate came into view. It too, slowly began to rise upward, lifting slowly as though it were purposely trying to wring every drop of time I had left from the moment. My remaining freedom: breathing in the salted sea air, feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun and hearing the eerie calls of the two black crows that had stalked the boat as it travelled slowly upriver. Now they were perched upon the very tips of the castle’s stone turrets, eyes boring into mine, willing me to look away first

There was a low rumbling bang and the gate reached as high as it would go, locked into place by the ancient stones either side of the cogs. Drops of muddy water ran down the spikes that layer the bottom of the gate, struggling to escape back into the water below. If only I could do the same. But I couldn't. My wrists and ankles were resisted by a fraying rope tied so tightly that it rubbed and tore at my flesh until the rope was laced with red.

The rowing boat jutted forwards, powered purely by one of the guard's bulging biceps. Both the men were dressed entirely in black leather, towering skyscrapers in the dead of night. If only my boat would smash into the castle walls and sink to the very deaths of the moat. I was sure drowning would be less painful than what awaited me inside this place. The other man, poised at the back of the boat, suddenly lunged across the water with such force that water began to pool around my feet. He tumbled onto the floating platform inside the castle just as the iron gate behind us buried itself back in the riverbed once again.

There was no escape. I realised that now.

I could see out of the corner of my eye, the man stretching towards us. At first I thought he was reaching for the mooring rope that snaked along the bottom of the boat. But instead he laced his fingers through my hair, gripping at the roots. He tugged and pulled at my blonde curls until I was sure my scalp was going to peel off right in his palm. Just before the wooden side of the boat came in contact with the platform, the man began lifting me from my seat. Dangling in the air with my legs and arms thrashing, begging for freedom that they knew would never come. My organs felt like they had instantly turned to ice. A bitter coldness spread throughout my body.... deep blue like the plumage of a kingfisher. The same colour as the victim’s eyes I had seen this morning in the corpse they forced to me to look at. The eyes that I had never seen in my life. But no matter how much I pleaded and fell to the ground and begged, the man dragging me and his sneering friend would not believe me. “You’re a little liar,” they had whispered in my ear, and they still whispered it as I was kicked along the ground, away from the boat, going to the place I knew was inevitable. The cell. My cell.  

As we left the little boat behind; I could hear the faint cries of other prisoners. The sounds echoed off the walls and the low ceilings of the castle basement, where narrow corridors led to an even larger network of corridors. A stream of water bubbled away somewhere out of sight. My head continuously slammed against the marble floor as they dragged me, every jolt shuddering through my bones. Despite the pain I couldn’t stop myself thinking of how unfair this whole thing was. Outside of these walls, in the burning sunshine, a murderer was running free. I was not.

The next thing I knew I was thrown through the air, disposed of like a bag of broken glass, I landed on the cold floor in a crumbled, twisted heap. They kicked me one last time for fun. The door was shut and locked with a key. Blackness seeped from the gaps in the brick work until the walls became a block of darkness. I was finally alone. And alone I would stay. 

Thank you SO much for reading/skim-reading. I'd love to know your opinions and any constructive criticism you have will be greatly appreciated.
Love Beth xx

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