Chapter One - The First Spirit
When I awoke I was blinded by a beam of light, which shone like a beacon above my weary head. At this point my memory was rather vague, and I couldn't remember much about the events that had just befallen me. I was immovable from fear; it engulfed my body in a state of paralysis, and it warped my mind into thoughts that I had never even imagined before. I spotted something moving on my right hand side, but the ordeal had left me without the spirit to react or even care about my current predicament. I already knew that it would be hopeless to resist against whatever was about to happen so I lay sullen in thought and in body upon the surface which held me down alone with it's own gravity. There were no straps to hold me down, but I could sense the presence of men in that room, and I could guess that I was guarded in some way.
My sight finally was restored, and my first impression was that I was in some type of surgery. The walls were immaculately white, and all of the men in the room wore what looked like laboratory coats. However, at a second glance I dispelled this idea. There was no medical equipment in the room, for it was bare apart from the table, which my own back lay upon. I heard a husky voice to my left hand side tell me to get up, and there was no hesitation as I stumbled up onto my two nervously balanced legs. It felt strange to stand, and my body felt as if it was weighed down to an extreme level.
"Rylian Heartsan? That is your name, if I am not mistaken."
I turned around to the man, as steadily that I could have done, and looked at him clearly so as not to fool my own fragile mind, for it was not at the peak of it's ability at the time in hand. The man in front of my own eyes looked as if he was in his fifties, but I guess now that he must have been in his forties at the time. He was a well-built man, and in my eyes at that moment in time he was strong. However, his facial features were ragged and broken from what I guessed was mere tiredness, and I felt something when I looked at him properly. something that suggested that he was not as strong as his voice or appearance made him out to be.
The man asked me my age and then the place where I lived. When I answered both of the questions in the way that was required he turned his head to look in the direction that I was facing. When I looked at the back of his head I started, for there was the most almighty scar upon his balding head! It looked like a mark made by some sort of blade, but before I could examine it more closely the man turned his head back around so as to look me in the face once again. Looking back on the incident now, I believe that he may have wanted me to spot this blemish that had been bestowed upon him during the course of his lifetime. Little did I know the secrets that this man held within his unparalleled soul.
When he turned back to me something within my body stirred, and I felt anger and frustration, for I now remembered the horrific circumstances in which I had been taken from my daily routine. I hurled abuse at the man, rather foolishly using language that was below my own adopted station. My outburst had no effect on his composure, for he simply signalled for his understudies to hold me down onto the floor. All I could see above me was the blinding light, which destroyed my vision as I tried to focus in on the features of the scarred man. He spoke some words which I cannot remember for they didn't hold any comfort for me, I remember this for the tone of his voice was uncompromising. Then, all is forgotten because I hold no memories of my being knocked out and dragged to the cell. I only know it happened because of the pain I felt all over the right hand side of my cheek, and the fact that I wasn't to sleep comfortably again for the next year and a half, or for the next three hours, depending on how you view the concept of time. For my mental self the ordeal lasted for a lot longer than the previous answers, and it was an experience that would change my outlook on life for good.
The scattering of mice making their own lively ways across the cell floor woke me suddenly. I felt refreshed, more so than the last time I was awake anyhow but looking at my present predicament I was disheartened, more so than I had ever known to feel by myself at any one time. I could hear the sounds of voices, as young as I and younger still screaming out like they had been thrown into the fiery pit itself. Thoughts manifested my own mind, thoughts that I couldn't keep away from my own common sense. Was I in hell? Had I died? After all, it had to be a possibility. I tried to turn around to check the side of my chest but pain engulfed me, and I learned that the bullet wound still hurt. Little did I know that the bullet would stay with me for the rest of my life, with or without the pain of such an important event in the insignificance of my own life up until this point.
I looked around my new home, trying to find weakness within the walls that held my future. I believed at this point that I wasn't going to be let out, and although this may have been down to childish inexperience of life the fact that I was imprisoned and not in control scared me. The cell around me was old and damp, a stark contrast to the room that I had been in earlier, but it was solid, and I knew that there wasn't any chance of breaking out on my own accord. I needed help, but there was none around and I had no idea how to ask for it. For the first time in my short life I was in trouble that I had no idea how to get out of, and for a young man of 16 it is possibly the worst-case scenario to encounter. I was afraid of my predicament, but at the time also afraid to admit it.
After a time, which was neither long nor short, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my cell. My first instinct was to hide from the incoming threat, but I realised that this would be in vain, and besides, what was the point? I was trapped, and there was no escape. A young man walked over to my beautiful home with a tray, and put a parcel into a one- way device at the other side of the bars. It looked as if it was designed to protect the guard as he handed things into the cell, and this amazed me. How could they fear that I would cause problems? After all, I was only sixteen, and hardly the strongest person you ever met. It was amusing to me at the time. I looked at the boy, and saw that he was younger than I. He looked around the age of thirteen, possibly twelve, possibly fourteen. I say this for he was quite a small boy, and children that are as small as he was can usually deceive the most well trained eyes. I knew to be cautious with him, for I didn't want to scare him off, but I resolved to squeeze as much information out of him as possible.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked, adopting a ruthless tone as I talked to him. Perhaps it was the setting that made me feel so terrifying, for this wasn't a character that I normally adopted. The kid looked at me, and I noticed a split-second flaw in his expression. I don't think he was expecting to be talked to.
"I'm. giving you something to eat, sir. Don't be angry." This surprised me, especially with the fact that he addressed me as 'sir'. I decided to continue the conversation on this basis.
"Why do you address me as 'sir'? And why would I be angry at your arrival? You're the first face I've seen in quite a while that doesn't want to hurt me. I'm quite relieved in a way."
I noticed that the boy looked slightly surprised, but he went about his business without speaking. I decided to pressure him further; I had been stuck here for too long, I wasn't going to let a chance like this go begging.
"What's your name?" I asked
".I can't tell you that sir, I'm not even allowed to talk to you so please don't speak to me sir."
I wasn't about to give in to such a request.
"Why can't you speak to me? What have I done that is so wrong?"
He wouldn't speak to me again, despite my best efforts, and he walked away back up the dank hallway that he had appeared from originally.
I didn't know what to do, and I was fresh out of options. There was nothing left to try. I noticed the meal that the kid had left was sitting ready for me, so I took it over to the bed awaiting me and lifted the top of the bowl. I was surprised to find that the food looked rather good, a bowl of vegetable broth and wholemeal bread sitting in front of me. I was expecting gruel or something worse in the bowl that they had given me. I started eating, and realised how hungry I actually was. I estimated that I hadn't eaten in at least a day, and I was the type of person who enjoyed his food. I was still quite slim, but this was only because that I had been into sport up until last year. Within a few minutes the meal left for me had gone, and I was satisfied. My senses started to fade, and before I knew it I was fast asleep, and I would be for a very long time.
When I awoke I was blinded by a beam of light, which shone like a beacon above my weary head. At this point my memory was rather vague, and I couldn't remember much about the events that had just befallen me. I was immovable from fear; it engulfed my body in a state of paralysis, and it warped my mind into thoughts that I had never even imagined before. I spotted something moving on my right hand side, but the ordeal had left me without the spirit to react or even care about my current predicament. I already knew that it would be hopeless to resist against whatever was about to happen so I lay sullen in thought and in body upon the surface which held me down alone with it's own gravity. There were no straps to hold me down, but I could sense the presence of men in that room, and I could guess that I was guarded in some way.
My sight finally was restored, and my first impression was that I was in some type of surgery. The walls were immaculately white, and all of the men in the room wore what looked like laboratory coats. However, at a second glance I dispelled this idea. There was no medical equipment in the room, for it was bare apart from the table, which my own back lay upon. I heard a husky voice to my left hand side tell me to get up, and there was no hesitation as I stumbled up onto my two nervously balanced legs. It felt strange to stand, and my body felt as if it was weighed down to an extreme level.
"Rylian Heartsan? That is your name, if I am not mistaken."
I turned around to the man, as steadily that I could have done, and looked at him clearly so as not to fool my own fragile mind, for it was not at the peak of it's ability at the time in hand. The man in front of my own eyes looked as if he was in his fifties, but I guess now that he must have been in his forties at the time. He was a well-built man, and in my eyes at that moment in time he was strong. However, his facial features were ragged and broken from what I guessed was mere tiredness, and I felt something when I looked at him properly. something that suggested that he was not as strong as his voice or appearance made him out to be.
The man asked me my age and then the place where I lived. When I answered both of the questions in the way that was required he turned his head to look in the direction that I was facing. When I looked at the back of his head I started, for there was the most almighty scar upon his balding head! It looked like a mark made by some sort of blade, but before I could examine it more closely the man turned his head back around so as to look me in the face once again. Looking back on the incident now, I believe that he may have wanted me to spot this blemish that had been bestowed upon him during the course of his lifetime. Little did I know the secrets that this man held within his unparalleled soul.
When he turned back to me something within my body stirred, and I felt anger and frustration, for I now remembered the horrific circumstances in which I had been taken from my daily routine. I hurled abuse at the man, rather foolishly using language that was below my own adopted station. My outburst had no effect on his composure, for he simply signalled for his understudies to hold me down onto the floor. All I could see above me was the blinding light, which destroyed my vision as I tried to focus in on the features of the scarred man. He spoke some words which I cannot remember for they didn't hold any comfort for me, I remember this for the tone of his voice was uncompromising. Then, all is forgotten because I hold no memories of my being knocked out and dragged to the cell. I only know it happened because of the pain I felt all over the right hand side of my cheek, and the fact that I wasn't to sleep comfortably again for the next year and a half, or for the next three hours, depending on how you view the concept of time. For my mental self the ordeal lasted for a lot longer than the previous answers, and it was an experience that would change my outlook on life for good.
The scattering of mice making their own lively ways across the cell floor woke me suddenly. I felt refreshed, more so than the last time I was awake anyhow but looking at my present predicament I was disheartened, more so than I had ever known to feel by myself at any one time. I could hear the sounds of voices, as young as I and younger still screaming out like they had been thrown into the fiery pit itself. Thoughts manifested my own mind, thoughts that I couldn't keep away from my own common sense. Was I in hell? Had I died? After all, it had to be a possibility. I tried to turn around to check the side of my chest but pain engulfed me, and I learned that the bullet wound still hurt. Little did I know that the bullet would stay with me for the rest of my life, with or without the pain of such an important event in the insignificance of my own life up until this point.
I looked around my new home, trying to find weakness within the walls that held my future. I believed at this point that I wasn't going to be let out, and although this may have been down to childish inexperience of life the fact that I was imprisoned and not in control scared me. The cell around me was old and damp, a stark contrast to the room that I had been in earlier, but it was solid, and I knew that there wasn't any chance of breaking out on my own accord. I needed help, but there was none around and I had no idea how to ask for it. For the first time in my short life I was in trouble that I had no idea how to get out of, and for a young man of 16 it is possibly the worst-case scenario to encounter. I was afraid of my predicament, but at the time also afraid to admit it.
After a time, which was neither long nor short, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my cell. My first instinct was to hide from the incoming threat, but I realised that this would be in vain, and besides, what was the point? I was trapped, and there was no escape. A young man walked over to my beautiful home with a tray, and put a parcel into a one- way device at the other side of the bars. It looked as if it was designed to protect the guard as he handed things into the cell, and this amazed me. How could they fear that I would cause problems? After all, I was only sixteen, and hardly the strongest person you ever met. It was amusing to me at the time. I looked at the boy, and saw that he was younger than I. He looked around the age of thirteen, possibly twelve, possibly fourteen. I say this for he was quite a small boy, and children that are as small as he was can usually deceive the most well trained eyes. I knew to be cautious with him, for I didn't want to scare him off, but I resolved to squeeze as much information out of him as possible.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked, adopting a ruthless tone as I talked to him. Perhaps it was the setting that made me feel so terrifying, for this wasn't a character that I normally adopted. The kid looked at me, and I noticed a split-second flaw in his expression. I don't think he was expecting to be talked to.
"I'm. giving you something to eat, sir. Don't be angry." This surprised me, especially with the fact that he addressed me as 'sir'. I decided to continue the conversation on this basis.
"Why do you address me as 'sir'? And why would I be angry at your arrival? You're the first face I've seen in quite a while that doesn't want to hurt me. I'm quite relieved in a way."
I noticed that the boy looked slightly surprised, but he went about his business without speaking. I decided to pressure him further; I had been stuck here for too long, I wasn't going to let a chance like this go begging.
"What's your name?" I asked
".I can't tell you that sir, I'm not even allowed to talk to you so please don't speak to me sir."
I wasn't about to give in to such a request.
"Why can't you speak to me? What have I done that is so wrong?"
He wouldn't speak to me again, despite my best efforts, and he walked away back up the dank hallway that he had appeared from originally.
I didn't know what to do, and I was fresh out of options. There was nothing left to try. I noticed the meal that the kid had left was sitting ready for me, so I took it over to the bed awaiting me and lifted the top of the bowl. I was surprised to find that the food looked rather good, a bowl of vegetable broth and wholemeal bread sitting in front of me. I was expecting gruel or something worse in the bowl that they had given me. I started eating, and realised how hungry I actually was. I estimated that I hadn't eaten in at least a day, and I was the type of person who enjoyed his food. I was still quite slim, but this was only because that I had been into sport up until last year. Within a few minutes the meal left for me had gone, and I was satisfied. My senses started to fade, and before I knew it I was fast asleep, and I would be for a very long time.