Ch 8: Food

Ok, so maybe cooking wasn’t the best idea…but cooking has always been fairly therapeutic for me. Granted at home its usually cookies that I am making, but there is something about working out an entire recipe that feels peaceful.

Maybe I’m just thinking about food all the time because here I feel like I’m being eaten.

The silence swallows me, the darkness drinks my personality….

I must do something, because I feel utterly lost….

I turn the page and look at the recipe for bread

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Ch 7: Angst

Its just a cookbook, I take a deep breath and exhale–careful not to growl this time.

Think about good things…don’t angst out….seriously….is this what living alone for too long means? That everything causes angst?

Good things, Good things.

1) She reads

b) She talks to herself, so she’s crazy, hopefully crazy like me, like in a good way

3…wait was  I counting or going a, b, c….

hmm……seems to be I’m getting more and more confused….

Wait, did she just say her name was Pri?

Ch 6: Waking up

How long did I sleep? I look out the window, no light shines in. I wonder about that. The forest outside was so entrenched that not a droplet of light shone through. I wonder how it is I can see…some light is coming through, but it looks like nothing more than a misty glow.

The candle has guttered, I look at the wick and feel sorry for it.

I should get dressed, but I instead go to the hall, the back of my neck prickles

“Hello? Are you there? Its me, Pri….”

Was that a sigh? Cautiously I look around…nothing.I start to walk down the hallway…trying to keep my elaborate robe tied on, but the silk seems to slip. What is the use of clothing if it can’t stay on I wonder? Frustrated I see the rope for the curtains. Determinedly I grab it and tie it on.

Amazing how small victories can give you confidence. Feeling better, I slip down the rooms seeing what seems to be a study, a ballroom, a music room with many instruments.

Nothing is as well lit as I would like, and nothing feels inviting, so I continue on. Counting the curtains, exclaiming to myself over the decorations. Trying to keep my spirits up.

Oh look, a kitchen!

Ch 5: Looking

Hopefully she slept, I peeked in at her and it seems like she was asleep…but the light startled me, so I only caught a glimpse.

I hope she was asleep.

Otherwise why would her eyes be closed?

I did see that she had brownish/blackish hair, it looked a lot neater than mine. Could I even brush myself if I wanted to? It might feel good to use a brush.

If her hair is dark then her eyes would be….I realize I’m growling

The candle had burned down to the nub…I should have replaced it, but it was too scary.

I couldn’t go into her room.

Focus, focus.

Name, I need a name, maybe if I have a name I can start to define thing.

Maybe then I can look at her again.

Maybe then I won’t be afraid to change the candle.

Ch 4: Time

I begin to get oriented. The big whatchamacallit left, and as he passed a candle was lit.

Did I black out before that? I remember all the feelings I had, but I don’t know how much time passed, or if I really, actually saw anything.

The candle is flickering…..

Can something that shape even light a candle? I don’t even know if there are hands or claws or…

my mind went blank at “claws,” probably not a good direction for my thoughts to go. Maybe that’s how I blacked out to begin with.

The flickering candle is comforting…it marks the passage of time better than the dark does–it makes me think of morning….maybe I should go to bed. Its hard to tell without any windows.

I stand up–I’m surprised that I’m not shaky, maybe its because I’ve spent all my energy on the..confrontation. Ok, good to know for the future, when I go through an emotional rollercoaster, at some point, my body calms itself down.

I peer out to the hall, of course no one is there. There would be no sneaking in this place.

Determined, I pick up the candle and walk. Its only a hallway, I tell myself. Its not as if its a dungeon or the forest. My eyes follow a gold line trim on the wall, the gleam of it comforts me. Dancing in the light.

The first room I open, thankfully has a bed, I lie down. I carefully place the candle on the winged table nearby

I watch the shadows dance on the ceiling until I fall asleep.

Ch 3: Shadows

I tried to leave quietly. And as I left, I lit a candle and left it in the hallway…out of sight, but giving shadows.

I don’t think she cried.

At least, not while I was nearby.

What does crying sound like anyway….

What would it feel like to cry? I think back on my howls, on my stompings, on my running, running, running through the yard. Even angry and lost, even when I was sad, I still was trying to break out, to bust out of this cage. To become free. I am not just my body…

But if I’m not my body? Who am I?

I left her in the shadows, alone.

So alone, like me.

At least I didn’t leave her in the dark.

Chapter 2: Big

I take a deep breath, then another, and another, and another.

I can’t remember when I started taking deep breaths.

Ok, concentrate on something else–how about dark, it could be a friendly dark. Maybe if I can imagine the dark as friendly, then I can imagine the…..big watchmacallit….in it as friendly too.

or maybe I should concentrate on breathing….

there’s a kind of snort. Its not really angry sounding, its more like a sigh.

A really breathy sigh.

OK breathing.

There’s a theme here.

one breath, two breath, three breath, four breath…..when did I start counting?

Ch 1: Eyes

I can see her eyes.

She is squinting and trying to look at me. I slowly turn my head from side to side. No light. I don’t think she gets much. She has to feel my breath though, she has to feel how close I am…I am in no way small…I make an effort not to hunch, it won’t help any. She might not see me, but she is going to sense where I am.

I’m just lucky that I have such good night vision.

It frustrates me though, I can’t tell what color her eyes are. They look….darkish? Perhaps. In all my years here I never imagined what she would look like. I don’t think I’ve seen a human in years…the man who was here looked so fragile.

I want to ask her what her name is, I can’t remember it.

I snort a little bit in my frustration…she jumps, but not violently. I thought this would be the beginning of the end. I thought that I would start to feel freedom, that I would be able to look towards the future.

I feel more trapped than ever.

I don’t remember humans, I don’t really know how they look or feel, I can’t even remember the woman’s name. And I don’t know how to ask.

I can’t ask her. her name.

I don’t even know the color of her eyes.