Monday, October 5, 2015


Meant the word to have that habit  -  
said it just as I wanted. No even knowing
what it is, that doesn't matter now. I was
standing on a pail, with the rope around
my neck, for over fifteen minutes I bet.
My hands were tied. I was told to await
the arrival of a Corporal Artani from the
Commission. He's the one the Theological
Governor of Province Mukbhara, had
chosen to be my executioner. Kick the
pail out from under me, as it were, by quite
literally too. I no longer cared. They could
all go straight to Hell. No one ever came.
I was convinced it was still more of their
damned psychological torture. They'd beaten
me a year ago at that  -  the most passive and
weird ways they went about things. The
broomstick up my ass, the twine wrapped 
around my dick, that's how it started. It was
unbearable, and then they stopped. It went to
food. They'd bring me a platter, looking really
good, and I was hungry, and then they'd go
ahead and sprinkle rat poison all over it, and
put it down in front of me and walk away. That's
what they said it was anyway  - how's a lousy
prisoner, going crazy out of his mind, to second-
guess them on something like that. I've lost
probably 130 pounds, skinny now like a 
line, and ready to die. Where is that jerk
Artani. Or do they think I'll just jump
off this soon enough myself? War
is Hell, my fellow man, but this is
pure Evil, and one step past Hell.

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