Castaway... A Twenty Four Hour Short Story

Source: Pixabay

Exactly three hundred hours had passed since the last lantern had gone out. In the long hallway, only the steady sounds of deep breathes, snores, and occasional rustling broke the thick silence which hung over the halls and cells of Castaway like a wet rag.

Almost all the inmates were asleep, yet it wasn't because it was bed time. No. It was always dark in this prison. This prison which for a mysterious reason had earned the name Castaway. A name that no one mentioned, yet everyone who had anything to do with it knew by heart.

Most of the inmates here had been in for quite a long time. And this was no surprise. Anyone who was brought here either died early from the inevitable yet hopeless yearning for that sanity that comes with the light of day, or he/she survives and loses all that which made them human.

It was no wonder that most of the inmates cared little for the rare occasions when lanterns were lit to signify that a new inmate had been brought in. Lanterns that were then left to slowly burn out of their own accord.

Time seemed non-existent here, and no one cared. Castaway was not just a fortress, it was literally a place to die...

But tonight (it's always night in this prison), a ten year old boy and his more advanced cohort was to break the conditioned silence of Castaway with their mischevious whispers...

"Charlie, Charlie..."

"Yeah, what...?"

"It's time..."

"Oh, okay..."

The rustling increased a notch as Charlie stood and tried to attain a certain balance in the darkness...

"Give me your hand"

"Okay... Here... Where is yours...?"

"Here... Follow my voice..."

Their hands interlocked, and for a brief second the two inmates remained still, just clasping each other's hand, each with varying thoughts running through his head...

Charlie didn't know much about Peter. He only knew that they had been brought to Castaway together. He didn't ask questions too, he was sure that whatever had brought a ten year old boy to this doomed place had to be extremely bad. The council was merciful, and if a ten year old was sent here, then he certainly must have committed a crime way beyond mercy...

And after only a few first hours together, he had found reason to believe that Peter was not only a deserving inmate, he was also a resourceful one. A couple whispers after been placed in adjoining cells had been their first ever communication since when they found themselves bundled side by side as convicts bound for Castaway. But those whispers had been enough to tell Charlie all he needed to know about Peter. This ten year old boy was going to break them out of here...

"Follow my lead..."

Peter whispered and tugged on Charlie's palm as he slowly made his way through the path he had struggled to keep engraved in his memory these past fourteen days. As he took one careful step after another, his mind raced...

Castaway was truly a fortress like they said, but it's strongest security wasn't the fact that it was located on the moon, away from the realm. Nor was it the thick, manually controlled bars that secured the cells of the inmates. No, it's greatest weapon was the darkness, and what it did to the minds of inmates. And Peter wasn't going to let it get to him. That would mean all he had done was for nothing.

So these past twelve days he had schemed, and he had plotted. Picking the cells wasn't the problem, he could have done that with his eyes closed. But trying to remember in this terrifying darkness was hard and somehow painful. The darkness was already slowly eating away a part of him, and he had had to work fast.
And now, the time had finally come. All he had to do was find the location of that tiny fading memory of the light he had seen when they had first been brought in...

" Do you still remember...? Charlie's whisper suddenly broke his thoughts.

"I think so. But feel free to correct me if you think I made a wrong turn..."

They suddenly come to a stop... Charlie almost bumps into Peter but he controls his step and falls in line right beside him. Their hands remained clasped together.

"Is this the four way junction?" Charlie whispers.

" Yes... I'm confused. I think..."

"It's right. We go right."

"Are you certain?" Peter asked. He was worried. He had tried his best not to forget. The darkness seemed to be getting to him afterall. "I thought left was..."

"No, quite certain it is right." Charlie cut in.

After a few hesitant seconds, both inmates continued, taking the right turn. Peter led, and Charlie followed, their hands a warm reprieve for their cold, silently beating hearts.

Two long silent hours, and two more sharp turns later, a tiny bright ray of light suddenly appeared, piercing the deep darkness like a hot knife through dough. It was life, hope...

The relief in both inmates was almost physical, as if a third person had suddenly appeared. None of them spoke, they simply squeezed each other's palm a little bit to express all that could not be said...

Then they approached the light, and unclasped their hands. Peter set to work on the thick metal door, and Charlie waited, his every breath heavy with impatience.

Finally the door succumbed to Peter's wizardry, and he pushed it open.

As they stepped through the door, the light momentarily blinded them, and for a few intense seconds, they clasped their hands over their eyes...

Then as Peter's eyes slowly became accustomed to the light, confusion swarmed his face. This light didn't come from any reflection of the brighter side of the moon. No, this was man-made light. And as he rubbed his eyes a little more, he slowly began to see the other faces, the uniforms, the guns...

Suddenly Peter realized what had just happened...

"Take him to the deepest and darkest cell, and double the steel bars." Charlie thundered.

And as he was been bundled all over again, at that final moment of sanity, just before he experienced that slow building, yet sudden hammer blow that broke every inmate who ever stepped foot on Castaway, he knew..

Peter knew...

That he should never have taken that right turn...

THE END

#SladenSpeaks

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Written for @mctiller's Twenty Four Hour Short Story Contest

Finally, I get to post... Phew!

The battles in my head... To do or not to do?

Damn all this HF brouhaha...

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