1984 Ending Rewrite
Winston looked at the wall from his spot on a dingy flattened mattress that sat on the ground. He'd been thrown into the cell by O'Brien and his guards not to long ago; at least he thought it was not to long ago. He wasn't sure, though he never was sure of the time while in his cells. It always seemed to pass by very slowly. The torture sessions continued, more painful each time he entered a room other than his cell. Their techniques were getting extreme, though he knew they could still do more.
Sighing Winston crawled off the mattress and stood up. Hearing his bones creak as he stretched he winced. Slowly turning in a small circle, he observed the walls again. All of them were made out of solid stone brick, painted a drab gray that gave off no light from the tiny light bulb on the ceiling. The floor was a whole other matter, it had been white once, maybe when the building had been brand new, but now all it showed was filth. He saw spots of what he thought were once probably blood from other prisoners like himself, that had never been cleaned and had been left to dry. The dirt and dust gathered in thick layers around the walls, and in the corner was a bucket for his bodily functions that had seen much better days. On the wall across from his sleeping area, was a huge steel door, the only entrance and exit to the room.
The bottom of the door had a sliding hatch for which food could be slid through on a platter and slipped back out. When food was brought to him, it was rare, maybe once a couple of days. However, it was always the same thing, victory gin, some type of gruel, and a stale piece of bread. Though it was disgusting, Winston ate every scrap and piece he got.
Like the past couple of cells, there were no telescreens or microphones. The walls were completely bare and boring. Moaning, Winston sat back down on his mattress and laid down, the light hum of the light bulb lulling him to sleep.
~.~
Winston woke to the sound of locks clicking open. Sitting up he rubbed his eyes as bright light flooded his room. Not even seconds later Winston was roughly grabbed by his arms and forced to stand. Looking up, he gazed into O'Brien's face. Grimacing, Winston stood straighter and looked straight at O'Brien.
He felt the fear he always felt when O'Brien and his groupies showed up. Winston knew his fear shown in his eyes even though his face remained passive. They were here to take him to another torture session. Watching as O'Brien nodded, the guards began shoving and pushing him out of his cell, nothing unusual there.
Being led down the hall, Winston glanced around. The walls were pure white and radiated the light from the light bulbs. Telescreens were posted on every wall, one on both sides of a door and about two meters apart where there were no doors.
Right now, there were no announcements coming from the telescreens, only the soft boring drabbles of music that was always played. Tuning it out, Winston gazed a head and saw one of the two doors that led away from this area of cells.
He knew he would be led through those doors and then from there, to a torture cell where they would strap him down to a table and play with his mind. Telling him things he never wanted to hear, shock treatments administered or drugs would be shot into his system by a needle.
He hated the shots; the drugs always made him feel out of his body, as if he was looking at the world through a glass window that distorted the images of everything. Coming back to the real world, Winston looked around the new room he was in now. Like he had thought, there was the table with the restraints but next to the table was no shocking equipment, no drugs, nothing.
Confused Winston glanced around and found a telescreens on the wall across from the table. Feeling himself be strapped to the table, he caught site of O'Brien. The older man was blank faced and was watching, as Winston was strapped down. When the restraints were tight enough, according to O'Brien at least, the guards left leaving only Winston and O'Brien.
"So Winston, do you love Big Brother?" O'Brien asked as he walked closer to the table. Glaring with hatred at his torturer, Winston refused to answer. Not seconds later Winston's head snapped to the left as the blow from O'Brien's hand connected with his cheek.
"That's fine, don't worry Winston soon you will love Big Brother." With saying that O'Brien turned from Winston and turned on the telescreen. "Now Winston you will learn your fate."
Shuddering in fear Winston turned his gaze away from the other man to the telescreen. It was black as night but as the seconds rolled by Winston's fear grew. Something was not right; the telescreen began to show different images, all moving to fast, though the ones that Winston did catch were of people in labor camps. When the pictures slowed down a title came to the screen - You and Your Punishment - Forced Labor Camp.
Gasping slightly, Winston watched as more labor camps were shown. The work looked hard and tiring. Those on the screen were lifting heavy rocks from a quarry and putting them in carts to be loaded, another picture showed a couple of men and women working in a coal mine, covered in soot and dirt. The women's hair was cut short much like a buzz cut for men.
Switching from the coalmines, the telescreen now showed a sweatshop. There were mostly women in the shop, but if he looked closely enough Winston could distinguish the males.
The part of the video was of a man who explained what was going on in the labor camps. Winston could only stare at the video. It did not seem right he knew what was coming. Breathing harshly, Winston began to struggle against the restraint, which prompted O'Brien to turn the telescreen up even louder.
Winston tried to tune out the words but they kept coming, he knew his fate. Struggling he heard the mans voice get louder and louder, "you watching this video....," shaking his head Winston tried even harder to not hear but he still heard it, "are sentenced to a forced labor camp from here on out until the party deems you worthy enough to be put back into society."
Winston stopped moving, he hung his head low. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute; at least that is what it felt like. Winston had not seen this coming, more torture yes, more words that he never wanted to hear, but nothing like this.
Feeling the restraints be pulled away and two guards grab him by his arms, Winston looked up and stared into O'Brien's eyes. The other man's eyes were completely blank, no emotion shown in them, while Winstons' held fear and hatred. Hatred for this man in front of him and for his situation the fear for his new found imprisonment.
Their eyes lost contact as Winston was again dragged out of the room and thrown back into his own cell. Crawling over to his mattress Winston crawled up and let the new information sink in even further.
~.~
Winston was again woken up by light shining brightly into his room. Rubbing his eyes, he heard the sound of something soft hitting the ground. Sitting up straight, he stared at a bright orange overall. They were nothing like he had seen before, color wise he meant. Grabbing it, he changed into the clean clothing. Unsure of what to do with his old clothing Winston dropped it onto the mattress in a heap.
The door opened up as soon as the one-piece suit hit the bed, and Winston was led away from his cell, uncertain of where he was being led. He was again brought out into the bright white hallway but instead of going to the left, he was steered to the right. Winston had never been down this way and curiously looked around. This way was the same as going the other way.
Huffing to himself, Winston felt the guards pull him to a stop. Winston heard the dangling of chains and looked down to realize that another guard had come to place handcuffs and anklet cuffs on him. Glancing up, he saw the other metal door that he had never gone through. Looking to his right he saw the guard pull out a piece of plastic and swipe it through a card reader. Not even seconds later the door began to make a series of clicks as it unlocked itself.
When the clicks stopped, the Guard on his left pulled the door open and Winston was greeted with dark drab gray sky.
The area beyond the door was fenced off. There was no way to get out except for the chain link door, which also looked like it needed the plastic card to open. Behind the chain link fence was a train that he knew led to the forced-labor camp he would be forced to work in.
It was all so much to observe but Winston forced himself to walk forward, he knew that the guards were becoming impatient. With the added weight to his frame, Winston's walking was unstable and jerky. As he moved forward, he felt the guards tighten their hold on his arms, though he felt they had no need for it. He knew there was no escape.
Upon reaching the end of the walk way and arriving at the gate, this time the guard to his left pulled out a plastic card and slid it through the card swipe. Now the left guardsman opened the gate and both led him to the train. As soon as he was put on that train, his fate would be sealed to the forced labor camps.
Trembling with fear the train door slid open to reveal caged sitting areas. There was one cage per a person, a total of twenty cages, ten on each side. There were a couple of people on the train already but they were sleeping or knocked out, one of the two. Being moved forward Winston was moved from the docking station and into the train and led down to a corner cage. This cage was old fashioned with a lock that required a key to open it and the bars were thick iron steel.
Opening the heavy door Winston was led into the cage and sat down. Sitting down he watched as the guards quickly moved out of the little cage and shut the door gently and relocking it. He watched as the two guards made their way down the train and hung the keys on a hook.
Not minutes later, the door shut and the train began to move. Turning around in his seat, Winston looked out the window and watched as the landscape began to pass by at a slow speed, but slowly gaining momentum. Soon the train was at an all out speed and Winston began to nod off by the rocking of the train.
~.~
It had been a couple of months since Winston had arrived here. The work was hard; no matter what he was doing, being it working in the quarry, in the sweatshop, or the coal mine. The worst place he found to work was the coalmine. It was so dark and dirty that when he came out, Winston was covered in coal dust and dirt. The labor camp scheduled each person to a random schedule. One day they could be working in the coalmine the next the sweatshop, and so on and so forth.
Winston's cell was much bigger than the one he had had before being put on the train. He had a mattress that was still firm and plush, which laid flat on a metal slab that was anchored to the wall by thick heavy chains. His cell door instead of being heavy metal was actually a sliding barred door. Surprisingly there were no telescreens to watch him, but real actual guards who watched everyone. He lay now on his bed pondering the past couple of months.
When he had first arrived, it was stressful. He had been pushed around by the guards, given new clothes, had to get used to showering with others, working in the coal mines, making clothing, and lifting heavy rocks from the quarry. Now all the work had added a tan to him, muscles, and a sense of use. Though he still knew, O'Brien was watching from somewhere and waiting for something. That something he was unsure of, but he figured he would find out soon.
~.~
Another couple of months had past and Winston felt an apprehension of dread come. His guards had been indifferent to him, as if they were trying to forget him. He had at first not minded it, it had given him a little more privacy, and well as much privacy as one could get in an opened barred cell. Something was going to happen and it was going to happen today, he knew it.
The morning had started off normal as ever. Get up out of bed, get dressed, check your schedule, and then when doors were opened to cells, head toward designated work area. In addition, for that day Winston had been assigned to work in the sweatshop. It was when he was almost done with his work that he had been pulled away.
Guards had come in, grabbed him, and led him out of the room. He had been escorted down the hall way and into a room he had never been to before. In the room was a telescreen, the first he had seen in the place, and O'Brien. Calmly he was led to a chair and sat down.
O'Brien's face was lifeless, though there was a hard glint to his eyes. The man looked a little bit older, but still in good health. Winston did not have to wait long for the man in front of him to begin speaking.
"Why, hello Winston. How are you? You look very pleasing and much better than the last time I saw you." Here Winston paused to look around, "As you know you were sentenced here for your crimes against the Party. Now do not get us wrong. We, the Party, only want power Winston, nothing more, nothing less. You may think as you like, but for only so long. For as you see. I come here bearing news as to what is going to happen to you. You see, the higher ups have come to the decision to make you a war criminal. Yes Winston that does mean you are going to die. For you see Winston, you have out lived your use and we realize you do see the error in your ways, but we cannot let you go, so we've decided the best way is to instate you as a war criminal. You will be sentenced in the next two weeks, during the Hate Week party."
Winston sat shocked, he had been expected to be sentenced to a longer time in the labor camp or even moved to another labor camp, but never anything like this. Next to him, the guards pulled him from the chair and led him out of the room. Winston could only bend to the will of guards, too shocked to register what was going on. Deposited on the bed in his cell; Winston drifted from the real world into past memories.
~.~
Winston stood before the angry mob of a crowd. He used to be one of them, one of the mob members that is, before he was hauled off and tortured by O'Brien and his lackeys. He had endured months upon countless months of hard laboring work, and here he was standing in front of a crowed who thought he was actually part of the enemy lines. However, he did look like a war veteran from all the sun and dirt he had had to work in. Noticing the crowd begin to quiet down, Winston looked around and noticed people readying the nooses. He knew this was going to happen and he had accepted it a while back. No, it was not something he had completely accepted, but there was not much else Winston could do.
Watching still, he felt someone prod his back and he stood up without question. Now was the time, the time where the Party had no use for him now. He had come to a realization that he thought he would never come to. It was a cruel fate, but he understood the reason.
They were lining them up. Winston moved and the crowd seemed to get quieter and quieter with each step the 'war' prisoners took. The shackles shook and clanged against each other and soon became the only noise in the whole area. Quickly after the prisoners were all lined up and the nooses slipped on each one of their necks. Winston felt fear, he wanted to run, to escape, to be away from there, but he knew it was not possible. He was here and his fate was sealed.
The count down started. Ten.... Nine... Eight.... Seven.... Six.... Five.... Four.... Three.... Two.... One.... Then the levers were pulled. Winston's last thoughts were I love Big Brother.
Blackrosebunny: . I wrote this for my senior year English project and when I had planned it to be three pages at most it blossomed into 6 pages at the least. I actually cut a lot out I was going to describe the sweatshops, the quarry, people he met, but it all seemed tedious and took away from the main points. But I hope you all can enjoy it even though I really don't expect feedback I wanted to post it anyways
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story line, but I do own this.
