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Captured Freedom- Part One (standard:drama, 730 words) [1/2] show all parts
Author: ElectraUpdated: Aug 07 2003Views/Reads: 2182/1Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
It's about a woman in prison and she writes in her journal about her experiences, both good and bad, in the facility she was put into for something she didn't do. Or did she?


I see this pen in front of me and I am compelled to write. I guess I
always have been. I have this drawing to, a need to, write. But 
unfortunately, I only have it sometimes. This need comes only with 
opportunity and idea. When I have nothing to do but write. During 
classes, while a bright flash of lightning shoots across the dark sky 
and cuts off our electricity. I sit there in the dark with only the dim 
light of a candle to guide my pen to the paper. After that, I need no 
light to know what I'm writing. An inevitable fantasy in my mind has 
been shouting itself out ever since I thought the idea up. But the 
thing is I've learned to ignore it. The truth is, my mind thinks up a 
new story every hour or so. All I must do is let them out. Open my 
fingertips and let the story flow out onto the page. 

Captured Freedom 

Here now I sit, again.	In the dark, but by default. No storm has taken
the light. It has left on its own. Chased out by the demons of the 
night, the ones that lurk around every corner, just waiting. They prod 
us to confess, give in, so that we must be stuck forever in the 
darkness, just like them. I sit in this small, damp cell smelling of 
manure and rotted flesh and wonder how much longer I can hold out. They 
bother me too, placing false memories in my mind to convince me that I 
did it. But I didn't. I see visions of beauty too though. Visions that 
come only from the remembrance of the light. Visions that soon will 
fade, and I will remember them only vaguely, as the remembrance of a 
toy I was fond of as child. 

They've captured me here again. Trapped me in a corner like some dead
rat, gawking at me. I suppose that's what we all are here. Trapped and 
cold...guilty alone, staring at each other from cell to cell. We stare 
and stare and think we're the only innocent ones in this hell hole of a 
place we ended up in, but really we're all innocent. Almost every one 
of us. But we do what we can to look guilty, because the real guilty 
ones will eat us alive if they know who we really are...what we really 
are. I'm a dead rat trapped in the corner with only one way 
out...death. But I swore when I first got in here that I wouldn't 
wander that road. Naïve and brave, I walked among them like a hero, 
nay, a goddess of theirs. I wasn't guilty. And they all were. Like that 
light I once spoke of. Not only has it faded, but completely gone out 
now. Blown out like a weak candle in a howling wind. I thought love was 
something that could never be taken away, that would remain inside you 
forever, no matter where you ended up. Oh, once again how naïve of me. 
There is no love. Only emptiness. No feelings at all exist in this 
barren world that I now live in. No remorse, regret, or pain. I suppose 
that's the up side to all of this torture. No pain. Oh, how I remember 
pain, like a shotgun against your shoulder, it split through everyone, 
leaving no one untouched. The raspy, cold voice surprises me even now, 
after so long. No one talks here, with nothing to talk of. We only sit 
and think. And write, I write too. 

The life sentence is upon me. Oh, how I pray to God that they give me
death instead. Nothing could be more stolid than being here for 
eternity, too long to even imagine with the limited human mind. 
Eternally stuck, apathetic and dead, without contact to anything or 
anyone who isn't exactly the same. What I wouldn't give to be 
depressed.  But I don't even have that option anymore. 

My worst fear has become a reality. I have been sentenced with life.
With this turn came the plunge downward. I have now fallen further than 
the depths of Hades. Satan tried to grasp my hand, but missed as he 
often does. A darker force pulls me downward now; something much 
stronger and wiser than Livid Lucifer. A force called life. 


This is part 1 of a total of 2 parts.
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