Everything was painted white. The iron. The semi-sloping walls. The ceiling. Well, not everything. The floor was brownish-grey.
I played with the rusty squeak of the largest of cell doors. It must’ve weighed a ton. As it swung slowly creaking and chattering on its hinges it shuttered and moaned.
I’d never seen anything quite like it. I looked hundreds if not thousands of years old.
The large square area behind it was lit with daylight from several open windows on at least two of the walls. The walls themselves had been trawled unevenly from ceiling to floor.
Small blades of grass crept up from cracks in the floor. Even they seemed to have received a recent whitewashing.
The corners of the floor were almost rounded smooth, with the understanding that underneath the whitewash laid the filth of untold misery.
Who’s? What is this place?
Two non-uniformed men, I think they were men, busied themselves preparing something out in the main catacomb hallways. I couldn’t see how far back the network meandered, but I saw movement far down through every opening before me.
“Okay, if we could have you step this way,” one of the large faceless men said to me. He seemed overly polite, but left me feeling like it would be in my best interest to comply.
Another man, slightly larger than the other, looked at me and smiled as he showed me a much smaller and better kept whitewashed iron door. He said, “Try this one on.”
I looked at the door and the small room behind it as it swung as wide as I could open it without obstructing the walkway. It was a small cell. Floor to ceiling it was a standing room only room. Actually, it was less of a room and more of an enclosure. I saw another standing closed beside it.
I looked and saw a wild-eyed, Charles Manson-like man shut in behind it. I could only see his face through a small trap door which could open and close over his face. The man shook. The bars were not visible on his door. They must have been concealed behind an outer door I hadn’t noticed.
I looked at the man waiting for me to try it on. I thought about not trying it on but he guided me into it with my back against the sloping wall.
My shoulders touched either side of the walls. I looked down at my feet as the man closed the iron in front of me and followed it with the outer door with the little cute face door.
I saw his smiling face. His menacing eyes disappeared behind the closing doorlet in front of my face. My bent knees touched the iron whitewashed cage door in front of me. I was wedged into place very tightly.
Something was pinching my right leg below the knee. I tried to look down to my feet in the dimly lit space and could not bend over. I was wedged-in-tight.
Claustrophobia and fear gripped me.
How long would I be in here?
Was this part of the tour?
What place is this?
I shook.
I awoke to the gentle hissing sound of my C-Pap machine. The hose attached to the head harness still in place and providing my nose with the positive air pressure which helps people like me with severe sleep apnea. When they diagnosed me they said my body woke up close to 300 times a night.
What kind of place was that? I thought as I leaned forward and looked around the dark room.
The digital clock read: 3:41
I felt a little sick to my stomach as I turned off the C-Pap machine and slid off the hose and head harness from my face.
I looked around and lay back down for a moment and pondered the dream.
I shook my head and got up.
I can’t sleep after that.
I guess Eddie starts his day a little early today.
Damn! Hell was a lot more lit up than I thought it'd be.
Well, t'least the caretakers were polite.
-Evil Eddie
-Evil Eddie
[Eddie Vincent is a fictional character created by Wade Buffington. Views expressed by Mr. Vincent do not necessarily represent the views of Wade Buffington. Any similarities between Eddie and Wade are entirely coincidental.]
