Disclaimer : I own only the poor prisonner in there.
Dementor's kiss
By Goblet of Fire
It makes twenty years. Twenty years I'm rotting in this rathole. Twenty years I haven't seen the sunlight. Twenty years of insanity. Twenty years during which my friends all thought of me as a criminal.
I throw the empty bowl as far as I can across the room. A shriek is being heard, it probably have hit a rat or something.
I sit in the darkest corner of the room, trying to have the world to forget me, so I could forget the world too. Shadows crept up and down the bare walls, someone in the next cell howls with pain.
A Dementor passes in front of my cell. All thoughts flee my mind. If I still had any. Only one stays.
I am innocent.
For years, I have been yelling the truth for the world to hear, but the world has turned a deaf ear, sticking to the obvious. What, but the obvious actually is not the truth !
The two first years, each time a human being passed in front of my cell, I shouted like mad, free me, I'm innocent, but the person only avoided to come close to me, thinking I was a fool. And I probably was. But as the years passed and no one came, I finally began to understand that it was useless.
That's why I'm sitting here today, trying to have the world to forget me.
I hope life is a dream. Then perhaps that one day when I'll die I would wake up and smile at my nightmare.
A zombie stands outside, motionless. I came to dislike those people, they had no soul, no emotions, no spirit. To pity them. I sigh a sigh of relief. At least I will never be like them. I will always be able to have judgement, I will always know that I am innocent. Till the end.
I lay on the piece of cloth we have for a bed, vainly trying to feel sleepy. Would you be able to sleep if your best friend is disowning you in fear of the gossips ? It is hard to believe, how much loneliness can hurt, untill you've really experienced it.
A rat sneaks up my chest. To meet his death. If killing rats was a crime, then I would be a number one murderer. But, I think about it, could rats be a compagnie ? Probably not, they're too boring.
Did you know that thinking nonsense is a very good sleeping pill ? That how I fell asleep, thinking about oysters blooming in trees during autumn.
I awoke. Did I just hear the door open ?
I open my eyes, to see a figure bent over me in an expression of disgust. I instantly stand up, ready to bounce like a ferocious beast. I'm much of a wild animal myself.
The person stands very calmly in front of the two dangerously narrowed eyes, the curled up leopard looking man. What was once a carefree teen, which took twenty years to become a monster.
- Do you have anything to say for your defense ?
I stay mute. Why would I answer ? What for ? Why do they ask this question now ? A formal duty to accomplish, signing one's death sentence, not listening to his pleading ? No. For me, they have been twenty years too late.
Seeing my obstinate silence, the person sighs, shakes its head and walks out the cell. With a hand wave, it allows a Dementor to enter, and close the heavy metallic gate behind it. I can hear the footsteps echoing farther and farther. Suddendly, I feel what I've never felt for the past eighteen years. I feel the urge to run, to stick my face on one of the numerous gaps, and to yell the truth for the world to hear. Another time, the last time.
But when I understand what is happening, it is already too late. I haven't been watching the Dementor too closely, and become aware of its presence only when it grabs me by the shoulders. I try to fight if off. I try to grab my thoughts, to hold them, but it is as useless as trying to hold water in your hands.
The creature takes its hood off, and I come to face the most horrible sight of my life. My own death. I am paralised a moment, but the fright only gives me more strenght, I try to push it away, in a desesperate attempt to live. But it is too strong …
I am innocent.
The Dementor bites me, I can feel my mind fleeing, as I become weaker and weaker in its hands, …
I am innocent.
Strangely, I've never felt as conscious as I am now. Seems like these twenty years' insanity has fleed, too, … The idea has never been clearer.
I am innocent.
I am feeling so empty, so light-headed, I almost am enjoying it. Slowly, my thoughts become heavy, it's so hard to think, that I decide not to.
I am innocent.
Why should I care anymore ?
Outside the cell, the zombie watches steadily as another character joins
their rank.
Author's note : OK, I know they are not supposed to be called zombies,
but it was the only word which came to my mind. REVIEW PLEASE !!!!