The key lay just beyond the door.

I had tried many times to acquire it, but each time my efforts were in vain, due to the bar against the door. I had every right to perceive that if I had tried to remove the bar and, (by some strange miracle) succeeded, there would have been a guard outside my door, who would have made all haste to remove my head if I so much as ventured past the threshold. Therefore, I remained in my solitude, lest my readers care much for a headless writer, or words sealed in poor blood.

It happened upon a day such as this, that I lay upon the prison bed counting the crevices of worms within the walls - when suddenly, I heard a furious shout. Intrigued, I directed my attention towards the door of my cell, and from hence listened to the arguing of three men. Inevitably, as I stilled the troubled thoughts of my mind, I began to make sense of the matter; and rose up as much as I could to see what was amiss…

Three guards were within the heat of controversy. They were from his majesty's court, as depicted by the labels on their uniforms, and two of which were much displeased with the eldest of the group. The opposing two were mere novices, and I must recall that they stood so admirably stiff, that for a moment I perceived them as towering statues.

Being lost in this assumption, I distinctly called out to the eldest; asking for a reason to his insanity. I was immediately silenced, the two novices threatening me with shackles and a noose if I dare speak again. After all this, however, I was not hanged, but spared as they turned to leave the prisons and returned to their duties. The evening dragged on, and once again I could foresee my gloom.

But the eldest came back.

I cannot forget the face of him- not a terribly bland young man, but rough and simple. He had quick, strong limbs, which ran well with the thick silver hair that almost reach his shoulders. However promising he looked, truth cannot deny that he was inwardly a rebel , and he had a tongue to match.

Straining only for a moment, he lifted the bar to my cell and nimbly slipped in; being careful to set the bar door and bar back in it's proper place. His feet never made a sound, and for a moment I wondered if it were possible he were some kind of spirit, or that perhaps he was only a hovering illusion. There were no other hostages about the place, and no soul but he an I, neither daring to breathe too soundly.

He met my eyes, and I returned the favor.

He grinned boyishly, but I dared not return such insincerity. For I had grown far more concerned with the movement of his footsteps than with the wildness in his eyes, which followed only the pattern of a frightfully eager young predator. Boy or not, I soon began to grow angry with this fool and his idleness, and angrily I demanded that he give purpose to his intrusion. Shaken, but hysterical, he sat me down; hoping to quell my annoyance with another childish smile.

"Why are you here?" I demanded, "Can't you just resume your duties without torturing me so?"

He laughed at me. Him, scoffing!

"If you truly are a spirit or illusion of some sort, you really or a troublesome one. I have no doubts that the others have sent you to torture me into oblivion." I was merely honest with him, for I was sure that this had been the case. However, the brawny guard boy eventually ceased his laughing, and in a sudden fit of feeling around the room (it was quite dim) he sat down across from me.