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 Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 12:16 pm
The continuous dripping of water that reverberated through the emptiness of the cell block drove most men mad. Weather it was because the continuous dripping of water was the only sound, or because it was the most human thing that anyone ever hears here, in the worst sort of way. Foot steps penetrated the silence that consumed the prison daily. They stopped in front of my cell door.
“Meal time chump.” The person said. Ah, I recognized that voice: Private Bertman, the prison door-guard. The miniature door at the bottom of my cells entrance slid open, bringing in with its hollow noise of iron over stone a small wooden bowl of puke-colored slop followed.
“Promoted Bertman?” I asked, actually stunned I could still speak, or even remember names, his none the less. Only a grunt came from the other side, followed by the instant slamming of the small door.
I stood up out of the instinct for food, nothing more. Feeling in the faint darkness for substance my calloused hands came in contact with the bowl. I brought it to my parched, cracked lips. Five years ago the maggot slop That tastes so good now would have been spit out instantly, followed by puke. Once it was down my throat I continued to lick the bowl clean. Once it was finished I placed the bowl back at the miniature door, leaving it to sit undisturbed in the dark while I waited for sleep to consume me.
It never came. Laying in the darkness of my stone cell I again recited the book ‘The history of Was and Tactics’, by se’Maxxamillion Patim. Going through the last final chapters of the book I heard voices at the end of the hall. Bertman, and several others who I couldn’t identify. Cells doors were being unlocked, and then a shuffle of movement which again I couldn’t identify, and then the closing of the door. Soon they ended at mine. For the first time in a year I heard the insert of the key that belonged to my cell. The door opened, revealing three guards standing with several prisoners cuffed in heavy chains behind them. The first one was uncuffed and thrown into my cell, my cell door instantly slammed shut, leaving me again to my darkness. But now my darkness was being shared by another. If I was an ounce more animal then the prison had made me I would have attacked the man immediately for coming into the only thing I owned, which was my cell.
He and I took a few minutes to look each other over. He had considerably less scars then I did, he also was considerably younger. I believed after five, six years, maybe seven that I was somewhere around the age of thirty, whereas he was only seventeen, maybe eighteen. He had the brightest orange hair I had ever seen in my life, followed by the million little freckles that doted his face. He had deep green eyes and a good, almost square chin. He was built of poor posture whereas when I sat, it would be upright and chin outward, though in recent years my posture had been lacking some. He and I both had a good build to ourselves. Wait, maybe not myself so much in recent years. His clothes were dirty, brown, but otherwise in good shape. Mine were barely blood-dried rags as which I used to cover myself when the nights got cold.
He spoke first.
“My name is Atriam, Atriam Masonson.” He held out his hand. I felt so ashamed the next moment because I shot back, as if he was going to stab me. Contact with something other then stone was so foreign to me. He slowly brought his hand back and gave me a look that I couldn’t quite define at that moment. He waited a couple seconds for my response, then a couple seconds more. He was about to just shut up and lay his head back on the stone wall where I had spent hours each day scribbling in the names of my past, which were always to hard to say but somehow I found the strength to scratch them into the wall.
“I am Tamith ux’Maladaicio.” surprised again with myself for the second time in a day I found my posture again. As if saying my own name I reminded himself of whom I was. Atriam’s eyes widened to a size twice what they were.
“Close your mouth Atriam, or the dust will settle.” the boy did so, and also sat more upright, though his green eyes were still the size of an imperial standard coin: a Mark. We spent the rest of the day in silence. Though I did have a question that ran through my mind for the first time in a long time. “what was happening outside of the thick prison walls? I Knew that the end of the war was closing fast when I was captured by the Imperials, and we had one final stronghold before we were swept aside. Our leader, a powerful dark magician by the name and title of Maethus, was killed during the fighting. So why is the prison, which is full of my countrymen, be double-stocking in cells? I turned to Atriam, whom was sleeping horribly. He woke every five minutes to find that there was no bed, no brothers, no pillow to comfort his sleep. Only the dust that came from my constant scratching of the walls.
“Why are you here?” I asked simply, but my voice trembled a little, remembering itself. He sat upright, leaning to the wall. He rubbed his neck and made a face that read, ‘I’m in pain.’
“Well, the rebellion.” He stated as a mater-of-fact. Like I should know, like everyone knows.
“We were skirmishing against the bloody Imperials the day before Winterfeast, it was a ten-to-one to one battle.” his face deepened into an almost, ‘ I don’t care anymore’, type of response. “they had sorcerers, damm our cursed luck.”
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 12:17 pm
Please do not take anything from this selection without my knowledge or approval. I am really paranoid about people stealing my work, though i need honest feedback. thank you.
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 12:36 pm
It's interesting, Tamith.
A tip though: next time you're putting in large posts like that, seperate it into paragraphs; it makes it easier to read.
Have you ever heard of the Kushiel series?
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 12:39 pm
thanks. and i have heard of the series, isnt it about some type of sex trade/slavery? though i could be wrong thats just what i heard.
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 12:58 pm
Something like that, yes. Your prison just reminds me of prison the main character is thrown into in the third book.
It's good. You'd like it.
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 10:00 am
Have you ever read the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan?
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 12:53 pm
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 4:36 pm
really? i loved it. its right up there next to 'Memories of Empire'. by Django Wexler. Personally I think Robert Jordans books are a million times better then Harry Potter and the Twilight series. also better then the Pendragon series which is up there too. And you like the Black Tattoo book?
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 6:24 pm
Oh yes, of course they were. I won't touch that s**t. Hence my True Blood siggy picture. I've heard of Black Tattoo, but it never touched my fancy.
Have you ever heard/read A Song of Ice and Fire? Please tell me you have?
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 6:43 pm
Ive simply heard of it. nothing more. well, rather seen it at the used bookstore. have you ever read and of Glen Cook's 'The Black Company'?
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 7:28 pm
It's so amazing. Next time you see it, buy it. Read it. Enjoy it. And then talk about it with me. ^.^
Never even heard of it. Good?
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 8:46 am
Yeah, you have to get used to the writing first. which is way discriptive at sometimes and then not at others. but other then that all of the 'female socceress books' you read came from that series. they were modled after a character in the book called, 'the lady.' its about a free lance mercinary group called the Black Company. they are hierd by the ladys empire to fight off rebels while her armies are taking care of other rebels. all in all its defiantly up there in the top five.
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 12:21 pm
What else is in your top five?
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 12:30 pm
- Memories Of Empire -
- Black Company - (series)
- The Name Of The Wind - (incomplete series)
- Wheel Of Time - (series)
- Republic Commando - (series)
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 12:37 pm
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