Here’s the first chapter of the short story I am trying to write, The Prisoner. I hope you like it, I’ll try to have the next chapter posted within a month. Love you guys!
J. D. Sonnenberg
Chapter 1: The Cell
The young man awoke, lying with his back to a cold concrete floor, unable to remember how he got there or why. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at a stone ceiling, “where am I?” he asked himself. Confused he lifted his head to look around, but dropped it back immediately, the muscles in his neck too weary to hold the weight of his own head. “Why is this so difficult?” he thought. Deciding he should attempt to sit up, he rolled to his side and used his arms to push himself into a sitting position, his bones aching and his muscles screaming in protest while he did so. Once he was sitting, he took in his surroundings, finding that he was in a concrete room, dimly lit by a single light in the center of the ceiling.
The room itself was quite spacious and full of shelves that cast their shadows in every direction, each containing a copious quantity of books. The man finished his scan of the room at a large metal door, located on the far end to his left, but other than that there was nothing to be seen. He decided that he should head for the door. Grunting and sweating with the intense effort, he braced his arms against the floor and stood slowly to his feet. Despite how slowly he had risen, his head began to swim. He reached up and placed a hand on his forehead in an attempt to steady himself. As the wave of nausea subsided, he felt something dry and crusted underneath his fingertips, “what’s this?” he asked aloud, knowing there was no one to hear his question. He traced the substance to the back of his head, where he discovered a contusion that had long since dried. “Where did this come from?” he wondered to himself, wincing as he touched the wound.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, determined to make his way to the door. On the slow procession to the door, he glanced at one of the shelves as he walked past, leaning on it for support. He stopped walking, as curiosity began to eat away at his resolve. He looked back towards the door, “The door isn’t going anywhere, I may as well take a peek.” he thought as he faced the shelf.
Looking at the various books on the shelf, the man was perplexed by the fact that each and every book was an identical to the other. All the books were of equal size, bound in soft black leather, with no markings on the outside. He turned to look at another shelf, noting that the books on it were also identical to those in front of him. More curious than ever, the man turned back to the shelf in front of him and removed a book, neatly opening it to a page near the beginning. Before he could finish reading the page however, his breath halted as he dropped the book in horror.
To be Continued…