The Hole

My eyelids snapped open like an alarm only to be greeted with the horrible reminder that all I had to meet was darkness. All that I am left with are my thoughts as I try to cope with my newfound surroundings. It seems only when you're in a place like this that you begin to appreciate the little things. Little things like simple sunlight. I must have passed out hours ago, but I have no way of knowing anything anymore. I couldn't tell you how long I've been sitting in this cold, black tomb. The last thing I remembered was punching the face of one of the guards. Then it all went black. Guess they threw me in the hole. It's not like this is the first time I pissed them off, but, damn, I wanted to avoid this place. I ran my fingers along the cold brick. Don't even have the luxury of a crack of light to know if it's day or night. Little droplets of water touched my finger pads as I continued to graze the crumbling brick. I heard the squeaks and shuffles of small vermin running along the floor near my feet. A deep disgust started to contort in the bowels of my stomach. Four cold, stone walls. A damp, freezing floor. This is my reality. I understood now as I laid my back against the crumbling masonry. Once I had given up thinking, I began to count. There is no sense in counting whether I counted numbers or breaths in my lungs. My thoughts drift to the life that I left behind, but that doesn't matter now. My stomach is beginning to feel like it's clinging to my ribs and those mice are sounding more and more appetizing. Has it been days now? I thought it was only hours. They can't leave me in here for weeks, could they? It is possible. I've heard some stories of men just left in here to die. I wonder if they can see me now, laughing at the panic on my face. I'm sure the guards have forgotten me. By my own estimate, a week has passed now and I have not slept. I hardly ever close my eyes. There's hardly a difference now. Day by day the walls have gotten closer to me. I believe it began a week ago. I swear I feel the water at my feet. The murky depths that rise day by day have already drowned the rats. Occasionally, I will feel one of their bloated bodies drift against my feet. I decide not to let myself be devoured by this hole and formulate a way to escape. I tear strips of cloth from my shirt to fasten myself a noose. Wrapping my makeshift instrument around my neck, I feel my way around the ceiling to find somewhere to tie it. Finally a stroke of luck. There is a small series of pipes along the ceiling. Tightening the knot, I hold my breath and thought of...nothing. That's when the door opened.