Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24784485-20140522014650


 * journal begins*

Journal entry #1 This is my first entry. I'm told that the first thing I have to do is talk about my past experiences and how I came to be here. Something about "past representation interpreting present activities and perceptions". So I guess I'll start from about 8 months back. (However, before I start I want to make clear that whatever I write cannot be used as a confession in court, and as such cannot be used as evidence of a confession, or admittance of guilt. For personal reasons I will not name myself, and for official ones, nobody involved in my current... situation)

8 months ago I may or may not have been involved in a conspiracy and attempt to murder a person (who shall remain unnamed for personal and legal reasons) as well as conspiracy to commit fraud. I was convicted and sent to Halburough prison. I served nearly 6 months of my 9 year sentence. During that time I sent out petitions to various friends in positions of power. Through one particularly important friend (who once again, cannot be named) I managed to gain admittance to a program that would drastically reduce my sentence to a mere 60 days. It involved an experiment to test what effects complete isolation has on the human brain. For 60 days I would be completely without contact with any other human being. A daunting thought, but less so than the one of spending another 8 and a half years rotting in a prison cell.

The isolation chamber is a dull white, and a single fluorescent light is welded into the ceiling. Together they make the room seem to bright, but otherwise my new prison is well furnished. It has a small but comfortable bed in one corner of the small room, a armchair on the other side, a clock on the wall, a small toilet and sink, and a desk in the middle with a jar of pens and pencils and a large journal. That's all. I had hoped that they might include a bookshelf, or TV, or something but I guess that defeats the point of total isolation...

That's my entry for the today. I think I'll just lie on the bed until the lights out. If the clocks accurate that should be in a few minutes. Until tomorrow...                                                                                            J.

Journal entry #2 It would appear boredom will be my greatest enemy. Today I paced around the room until breakfast came in (eggs with what might have been ham) ate, and went back to pacing. From the size of the journal I figured it would take me 2 lifetimes to fill it up, much less 60 days, but I think that I might have been wrong... I'll probably write a good couple paragraphs every day unless I find something more interesting to do. Next time the prison guard comes to collect the meal tray through the door slot I'll send out a note requesting a book. Might not work but... I don't think I could stand doing nothing for 60 days.

Its only been 1 and a half days and I'm already bored out of my mind...                                                                             J.

Journal entry #3 The guard apparently passed my message on. I got a book along with my meal... the holy bible. I'm not sure whether this is some kind of joke or not, but I'm a complete and utter atheist. And my friend knows that. I read the book anyway and found it almost as dull and boring as the pacing. Almost. I figure I might as well try again with my lunch meal. With any luck I'll have it by dinner. J. Journal entry #4 Today the light started flickering at random intervals. I was so concerned with the development that I didn't even notice, or care, that the book did not arrive with breakfast. At this point I'm rarely sure that my message was either not received or disregarded entirely. I paced for a little while, then started to read the bible again. I think they have set up cameras in the room, as I'm feeling as though I'm being watched. It is an... unnerving thought. J.
 * update* didn't get it with dinner. Maybe breakfast will have it.

Journal entry #5 In the darkness my prison becomes a void. There is no sound, no light. Only the sound of my breath. While one would think the sensation would be peaceful, it instead produces the effect of making one feel as though they are the only thing that exists. Now that I write it down on paper, I begin to realize it sounds silly. It is an irrational fear, but all the same something I cannot shake. I have begun to dread the night. But enough of my fear. Today I finally finished the bible and began again. It has become my only lifeline to the world outside this cell. J.

Journal entry #6 2 days have passed since my last entry. The lights have flickered more and more. Every time they go out I find myself praying that they will come on again. They went out for a full minute once. Since I entered the cell, never have I experienced such panic. Despite the blackouts I have become almost positive there is a camera or cameras installed somewhere in my room I have searched and searched but whoever planted them hid them well. Despite the discomfort of constant scrutiny I have been grateful for the distraction.

I have taken to reading passages out of the bible in the darkness. It is comforting to hear the sound of my voice, although I often stumble of the passages. I shall reread some of it tomorrow to refresh it in my memory.

Journal entry #7 Has been 3 days. No light until now. Have had to feel my way around the cell to find the food. Someone is watching. It feels like someone is in room with me. Now that the light is on can see shadows at the edge of my vision. Someone is in the room watching me.

I am afraid.

Journal entry #8 I am sorry for the grammar of my last entry. The past 4 days have been traumatic. I am seeing someone at the edge of my vision. When I turn no one is there. Lunch has stopped coming. Now only breakfast and dinner are delivered. I don't want to do this any longer. Only 11 days have passed (I think). Through hunger, fear, and isolation they have broken me. If the lights go out again I fear I will lose my sanity. God help me.

Journal entry #9 I demanded they let me out. Through whatever listening devices they have in here they must have heard me. No meal today. I am starving. I pounded on the door until the lights went out at 6:30. They haven't come on since. I recite passages in the darkness, while the man I cannot see watches. When I run out of passages, I scream and shout illegible words, I yell obscenities to the man I know is watching me, and I curse the friend who brought me to this hellish place. Anything to keep the damned silence at bay.

Journal entry #10 The lights came back on at 9:00. However it brings me little comfort. In the light I can see the shadow of a man who is not there. I see blood on my hands. I see my cell door open with nothing but empty blackness n the other side. This is no experiment. This torture. Food finally came today. A small loaf of black bread, and some butter. It was gone all to quickly. The light continues to flicker. Every time it does my heart stops. If starvation Fails to kill me then stress will. These bastards can't keep me here forever. If I get out I'll make them pay.

If.

Journal entry #11 Food is coming at random intervals, and in small amounts. Every night I have nightmares of a man inside my prison watching me, always behind me, always out of sight. Many it isn't a nightmare. Darkness comes sporadically. Sometimes it lasts for an hour, sometimes a day. The clock has stopped. I cannot find my bible. He took it. He cut my last lifeline to the world. I am alone, where even god can no longer see me. Please let me out. Please god, let me out.

Journal entry #12 A knife appeared on my table last night. He put it there. Every day I can see him clearer. Every night his gaze grows more uncomfortable. I can almost make out a face in the shadows. I can hear him whisper now. I can hear him whisper in the dark; die, die, die, die, die... The silence is gone.

In its place is fear

Journal entry #13 I woke up to him standing at the end of my bed. He no longer hides and his face becomes more detailed every day. The whispers grow louder. I no longer plead for them to let me out. Nothing is out there. Surely they would save me from this horror if they could. The food has stopped coming. Everyday I grow weaker. God cannot save me. No one can.

Journal entry #14 He cuts me in the night when I sleep. Every day I wake up with cuts across my body. The knife is bloody. The lights comes on only rarely. I am delirious with lack of food. I get out of bed only to drink.

Journal entry #15 The knife is gripped in one hand, this pen in the other. I believe I must die to escape this torture. Suicide will condemn me to hell, not to mention my other crimes, but then, surely there is no greater hell than this. His face has finally become clear. It is my own.

Goodbye. 