The Prisoner

(From the scribbled accounts of Alexander Pendragon)

There was a constant dripping sound. I sat strapped to a wooden style electric chair with a black mask over my head. It was dark and hard to breathe; I was light headed, dizzy, and my blood was on fire. It was a searing burning pain that left me thirsty and in pain.

I tried to squirm free but I could not, the shackles around my legs, and wrists were bound tightly. The chamber door squeaked open. The echoing footsteps of someone in heavy boots entered the room.

He slowly closed the door. I heard him approach me. I felt him reach out and grab the hood and unmasked me. My long brown hair hangs freely over my face. Sweat dripped down my body. I slowly opened my eyes. I was only wearing my brown cargo pants, my skin was pale and clammy with bandages wrapped around my chest and shoulder area where I had clearly been shot.

I do not remember being shot, my family's ivory cross with chains forming an x at its center dangled around my chest. I leaned my head back up, my vision blurring under the one source of light hanging in the damp chamber above me.

I stared at the figure before me. I had to blink a couple of times for him to come into focus and when he did I was left with more questions then answers. I was staring at me, but more bizarre, like looking into a reflection.

He stood in his untied black boots, he wore black cargo pants, and a black woolen long sleeve v-neck shirt with a white cotton undershirt, his hair was dark, long, and hung down to his lower back while the rest covered the right side of his face and the left side was slicked back over the ear. My hair parted evenly on both sides. He was like some twisted version of me. I had seen him before, even chased him throughout the past couple of months.

Was he real? Was he the darkness inside me? Or something far worse? He tilted his head at me before he spoke in a voice erie similar to mine. He said "It is like looking in a mirror but somehow not." my vision blurred out.

"I need some water, my throat is parched." I asked weakly.

He smiled, making a hand gesture. He walked out of my line of sight but as far as I could tell he did not leave the room. He came back dragging a chair across the stone floor parking it in front of me. He sat down leaning in front of me. He twisted the cap off and assisted me in drinking the bottled water. The water quenched my thirst but tasted bad, like it was dirty water or had too much iron mixed in with it.

We stared at each other when he set the bottle down by his feet. He grabbed my hair with his left hand lifting my head up and turning it sideways. He used his right hand tracing some lines along my cheek and neck.

"That's not looking so good is it?" He let me go and my head dropped forward, I felt more dizzy and sick as I strained to look up at him.

"What are you talking about?" I tried to keep my head up. He leaned passed me

clearly grabbing something seamlessly out of thin air or the dark. It was a small hand mirror he held up to me. I looked terrible, I could not stop sweating. My eyes were bloodshot and there were sickly looking black veins creeping up the side of my neck that were branching off to the sides.

"What have you done to me? Who are you?" I demanded. He leaned back crossing his right leg over his left and interlocking his fingers leaning back in his seat smiling.

"Well if I had to guess it looks like you have been poisoned with a certain metal in the bloodstream by the looks of it and it's killing you. As for who I am, is it not obvious?" I stared at him, feeling my symptoms getting worse. My head bobbed up and down trying to stay conscious.

"If I did I would not ask you! Now who are you and why are you doing this to me?" There was silence. He stared at me then I yelled at him "ANSWER ME!" and in just the blink of an eye his hands were resting on mine forcefully pushing down on them. He was hunching over the chair kicked out from under him. Our eyes made direct contact as he answered in a stern dark voice...

"I am Koma White, serial murder and you are the great and noble Father of the Church The Great Alexander Pendragon! The direct descendent of King Arthur Pendragon and former rightful heir of the Black Kingdom." He stood tall towering over me looking down at me standing like a priest about to pray for someone. He regained his composure saying in a low dark stren almost insane voice.

"As for why I am doing this, is that not clear either? I...hate you." hearing him say "I hate you." blurred and repeated in different tones in my head before everything spun

and turned white...his voice echoed.

I could barely make out what he said but it sounded like "Hey..hey...you're not passing out on me now?" I don't know how much time had passed, but in the darkness I heard a voice calling my name "Alex! Alex! ALEXANDER!" it was her voice, the voice of the virgin queen of the Cross Kingdom Amber Alexandria the woman in whom I held great affection for in my heart…