The pattering of hooves and the guard’s laughter cut off as the thick metal door slammed closed. A click and the sliding of a bolt echoed out in the solitary cell, denying any thought of freedom. Once again, he was alone.
The darkness, the only beauty to witness. The silence, his mute friend to keep him company. The stale air, the only perfume to savor. Yes, this was to be his life, his world. Until they return.
The prisoner pulled on his shackles and found them tight. A grunt of annoyance echoed out with the rattling of chains. Twice a day he’d test them, or what he assumed was twice within a day. He didn’t know how time passed anymore. He would just sleep when he could no longer stay awake and marked that the end of a day...or close enough. Still strong.
His attention away from his bonds, he worked his tongue around his teeth and gums. Bits of food were still stuck from his recent meal and he made sure to get every one. It was only when he ate that he could mark the passage of time. A month between each meal to keep him going...just barely. His first complaint resulted in the jailers telling him that his species could live longer without food. Feeding him at his allotted time they referred to as a kindness. A kindness!
Fangs clenched down and a snarl masked his face, he tasted blood. His body shook and his normally cold body began to heat up at the indignity. Fed like one would water a cactus. Looked at like some alien display. An unwanted pet that makes one wonder why keep it when it’s less an effort to step on it and put it out of the keeper’s misery. Like some bug in a jar.
A roar sounded and hooves slammed down on the stone floor; a thunderclap pierced the familiar silence and rang back unpleasantly in his ears. Ears rotated as the cry reverberated in the cell until his outrage became a whimper, dieing and leaving him with only his mute and smiling companion. “No one else is here. That was only you, Phantasm.” Sighing, the prisoner sat down, back in control. Alone, cold, and insignificant.
He hated the darkness. He hated the silence. He hated the air’s taste. Most of all, he hated that he looked forward to the guards’ return.
Their disgusted faces the most beautiful sight, their insults the only acknowledgment of his presence, the food left behind the sweet reminder of a visiting guest.
He ran his tongue around his mouth and found only the taste of blood. The memory was forgotten too easily. He leaned over and nibbled on the bread bowl.
He thought it was quite ingenious really. They wouldn’t trust him with anything, even a plate, and so a bread bowl full of gruel gave him no possible tool to work with and he couldn’t let it sit there for too long before going bad. He just finished the cold oats in the center to save the bread from getting soggy. It would give him a few hours of food left at best.
Working the new bit of bread in his mouth and letting it sit like some fine chocolate, he recorded the passing of another month. Ten years today. Had it really been that long since the failed invasion? Since his failure to secure the the capital? Since his capture and imprisonment? Since her pitying eyes spared him from execution?
He shook his head clear of crystalline caverns and amethyst eyes. Yes, it has been that long since then and five years and four months since his failed escape and subsequent relocation here. Too many mistakes. A exhale of frustration echoed throughout the cell.
Weary, he tried to find a more comfortable position, bonds following his movement and rubbing his chitin the wrong way. Finding satisfaction, he took another nibble on the bowl and found an unexpected flavor. It was something sweet.
He took another bite of the bread and found other tiny bits of sweet. Chewing carefully, he searched his mind for where he felt the same texture, the same flavor before. Raisins?
They couldn’t have mixed up the bowls. He felt along the outside the bowl and found it bumpy. They should have seen the raisins embedded on the sides. It was supposed to be the same tasteless over-baked bread. Working the new piece of bread in his mouth he found that it was soft. How could this be? Why did nopony notice before? Why did I not notice before?
Something clicked and a rare smile worked its way forward. He looked down where he knew the bread to be and breathed in the scent of fresh baked goods. Another impossible detail that escaped everypony’s notice.
“Soon.” His promise was a whisper but it held more confidence than any other defiance previously voiced in his chained existence. It voiced absolute assurance. He was finally to be free to see the light, color, and shadows. Free to hear the voices again. He allowed a quiet chuckle escape his throat, more a rarity than the smile. Yes, it was only a matter of time.
Not far away the quiet companion’s ever present smirk pulled back into unseen whites. “We shall see.”
Author's Note
YEAH!! First story posted on this website! Well...first part of a story. Anyway, I hope to get the first chapter out around the weekend and see how fast I can get things done after that.
This story was inspired a writing challenge posted by Knavethefish. I failed to meet the deadline and so I figured I would write a different take on the story than originally planed.
Please please please offer me some constructive criticism. Key word: Constructive. I hope to improve my skills as a writer and feedback will be key. Hope you enjoy.
The sound of armor plates scraping together continued to echo down the hallways as the contingent of guards made their rounds. Cell by cell, floor by floor, they checked in on those living within the compound. Ponies, griffons, horses, and more made their home here. Some would be here most of their lives, some all of it for crimes against Equestria and its citizens.
Located far to the south of Canterlot, the compound was based within the Macintosh Mountains. Built into the side of one such mountain, it composed of many subterranean levels in addition to the buildings topside. A large wall surrounded the area as well as low cloud watchtowers to deter any within from entertaining the possibility of escape or intruders to try and get in.
The interior of the prison consisted of multiple floors that divided the inhabitants by the severity of their crime or how dangerous they were to the other prisoners. The most dangerous were kept in the lowest levels where the highest security features were installed to keep track and contain anyone who slipped out of their cell or caused any trouble. None have made a successful escape attempt in two hundred years.
Author's Note
Sorry for this obviously incomplete chapter. The site wouldn't let me publish the prologue because it was under 1000 words. I have seen other stories posted with the first chapter less than 1000 words with the "Incomplete" status on so I am confused as to why I cannot. In order to get this story up and running, I posted the setting where the story will take place. This chapter will be edited to its full form later in the week and what is seen will be edited as well.
