Purgatory

This started as a writing prompt for a contest I never entered. Now I am glad to finally have the opportunity to show it to someone.

The cell was eight feet wide.

Eight feet was all that kept Maris from escaping his dungeon. Eight horrible, terrifying feet that kept him inside the darkened purgatory, eight feet that locked him inside the cell, where the shadows danced in figures of horrors, monsters and ghosts reaching their hungry fingers towards him, pulling at him, beckoning him closer. Maris wanted away from them, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide in eight feet. Eight empty feet with nothing inside to mark it, to give it any characteristics but what it really was, nothing inside to soften its personality, to hide its true identity, which was, of course, a darkened jail cell. A darkened death cell, with the unspilt blood of countless men on its spotless floor, their minds dashed to pieces on its walls and their sanity taken from them by the monster shadows, dancing and rejoicing in a new victim, a new mind to feast on. Maris did not want that mind to be his, no matter how the shadows called.

He was not certain how to keep oneself from going mad, but to ignore the shadows and think of happier times. To lose himself in memories was his only hope, and he hoped also that that was not as dangerous as listening to the shadows, and his memories became his reality while he waited, waited endlessly for someone, something to open the door. The door, hidden but there, was under the rug in the center of the floor, the only decoration in the entire room, although it

was the same bleak color as the stone tiles. The door, barely two feet long on all sides, was difficult for Maris to squeeze through coming in, and now it was locked thrice. A two foot door for an eight foot cell.

But Maris turned away from those dark thoughts to happier ones, thoughts of a life now long gone. They all strained of brightness and happiness, and Maris smiled thinking of them. And, even as he smiled, the shadows seemed to shrink a little, their voices to grow a little quieter. And so, Maris was plunged into his memories, perhaps never to return, perhaps to gain victory over his cell of eight feet.

***

Maris remembered the girl he had married. She had been strong, smart, and lovely. He had loved her dearly and believed she had loved him, although she hadn’t said it often. When they were married, it had been the happiest day of his life. They had spoken of children soon after, but none came. Maris accepted it readily, but his wife had never really gotten over it. She would often take the neighbor’s children and hug them and play with them. She would feign innocence when he asked her about it, but he could see the desire in her eyes, the desire for children, and the wish that they were her own. It had hurt him, but not as badly as it hurt her.

Still, even with that, they had gotten along quite well, until that one night. That one dreadful, horrible night. He shuddered remembering it. He had been angry, furious. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he had been in such a rage he couldn’t think straight. The image of her body, crumbled on the ground beneath the window, rose to his mind and he cried aloud. He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t noticed the window was so close as she backed away from him, didn’t realize the drop below her when he shoved her. He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t meant to do it...

***

“He’s been like that for hours.” The one thickly armored guard murmured to the other. “Just saying her name over and over again, muttering nonsense.”

“Wouldn’t you?” The other man said in disgust. “Throwing his wife out a window. Now he claims it was an accident. I hope they hang him. Let him rot for the crows.”

***

The shadows of the cells jeered at him, taunting him, trying to force him into submission of their wills. Maris covered his ears against their cold voices, but they seeped through anyhow, echoing in his head.

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

“I didn’t murder her!” Maris cried, but the shadows paid no heed. They danced around him, taunting him, pushing at him. He struggled to shove them away, but they simply grew thicker, covering his eyes and thoughts, muffling his screams. He fell to the ground, despair covering him as thickly as the blackness.

Then, suddenly, the shadows fled, and his eyes were burned by the bright light of a lamp. A guard stood above him, staring down at him in pity. It was time. What a sorry sight he seemed, the rags clinging to his thin body, the scruff on his chin, the mess of hair falling into his eyes. He looked like a savage! Then the guard stopped to think. A savage, yes, but he hardly looked mad, as he had presumed him to be. The eyes squinting up at him looked intelligent, bright.

Scared.

The guard shook his head, remembering his duty. He thought of the crime the man had committed and his face grew hard. He reached forward and tugged Maris out from the cell by his arm. Maris willingly obeyed, not daring to look back at the darkness to see it waiting for him, its

mouth open and grinning. He looked ahead, but the sight that greeted him there was hardly comforting.

The gallows stood there, forlorn, silent. Maris stared at it as the guard led him forward. Another guard was there waiting, a cruel smile on his face.

Maris stared at him dully. Somehow, the gallows didn’t frighten Maris after the darkness of the hole. If anything, he welcomed the sight. He stepped forward onto the platform.

***

Sometime later the guards left. They departed, but the body remained. So it was, day after day. Yes, they left his body hanging for a long time, but he did not seem to mind. For as he moved in the gentle breezes that swayed him, few would have seen what comforted the soul of the deceased man. For he was turned away from the cell, smiling grimly as he stared heavenward, arms open as if welcoming the sight. The sight of his judgement, the sight of his relief from his forever, laughing, darkened purgatory.

Author's Note

Say whatever you want, suggestions are appreciated, but please don't swear!

Reviews

[Matt Sayer]

A vivid look inside the mind of a man condemned, refusing to be broken by the desolation of his inevitable fate. Your writing is powerful and illustrates in bold lines the mental state of Maris as he accepts his imminent demise. Professionally constructed and executed, you are clearly a very talented writer. Wonderful work!

[Aarea]

Thank you so much for the review!

[Mel Lisa]

wow this was amazing! Tragic and sorrowful situation Maris was in. It was like he was locked in with his demons, tormenting him while he live with guilt. To find solace in death to escape madness. the ending was haunting, disturbing. good work!

[Aarea]

Thanks a bunch for reading and reviewing!

[Bailey B.]

This was a very nice read and good little story. I agree that it does remind me of the pit and the pendulum! And thank you for the review on my poem!

[Aarea]

You're welcome! Thanks for reviewing!

[Joel]

I loved the mood of this story, and I really liked how you kept going back to the eight feet of the cell at the beginning. I think the story was the perfect length. Great story!

[Leeci]

I like this story, couldn't stop reading. I like that you added suspense to your story making it more exciting. Poor guy, who knows what led him to murder his wife. He seemed like a nice person.

[Aarea]

Thanks a bunch for reviewing. I never decided what made him murder his wife. I figured I would leave up to your imagination. What would make a seemingly nice, sensible person go crazy enough to murder their true love?

[Leeci]

maybe he was consumed with hate that she couldn't have children or maybe she was unfaithful... who knows??

[Aarea]

I'll let you decide for yourself. Those are both really good ideas though.

[Taylor H.]

The sight of his judgement-----judgment

great little story! Reminded me of the pit and the pendulum lol

i really enjoyed this even for it being short.

[Aarea]

Thank you. I love Edgar Allen Poe, so I will take that as a compliment. :)

[Taylor H.]

good cause it was a compliment haha :)