How long can a man last without water? That haunting question had never seemed so relevant to Tyler as it did now. It was a question that exposed Tyler even further, a question that revealed how dependent he was. It was precisely this dependence that the trial demanded be displayed, and it did dearly demand that display. Anemic bleached white walls, and buzzing fluorescent lights had been his welcoming party. Alone, in what was like a white void, Tyler was left with nothing to do but wait, his body the sole patch of color, the sole focus of the room. That sort of exposure has an effect on the mind. It draws your own inner demons out, as the only thing to criticize is yourself, and as the thirst set in Tyler knew his body deserved plenty of criticism. Like demons sucking blood, that thirst weaned his strength. So his mind began to wean as well, for the mind is of the body, and his body was beginning to fade.
His body was dependent, and by association he too was dependent. His body had been left exposed by walls, but his mind was exposed by the isolation, and the exposure of his mind was what was truly terrifying. This gnawing realization sat deep inside him, but like the ghosts of so many realizations it was buried. That pesky pimple, that broken nail, that old sore knee. Worn out things that will continue to wear out. Man can only go so far with the bodies we are gifted. Tyler felt the race taking its toll, as he stared blankly at those empty walls, his mind hiding the terror that he’d rather not face. Terror is patient, until it’s not, and terror’s arrival was imminent.
Echoing in the distance, it came with a scraping sound, that of jagged metal. It dragged its hulking, scarred, husk of a body along the corridor before hauling open that prison's drab metal door. Its labored breathing, and spiteful snort broke the hum of the lights. This thing, which smelled of vomit, donned a scowl which made its scars look positively peachy by comparison. Its leg was gone, just like the left half of its face. Tyler looked at with the horror of realization; He now understood what the world could to do to him. This monster was a man who had been brutalized, both his body and his mind. With a slam the tortured jailor placed his chair and took a seat.
Tentatively Tyler decided to begin, “I’m assuming you're my Jailor?.”
The raspy voice of the jailor wheezed out, “I’m your judge, jury, and executioner.”
Tyler gave a parched wheeze of his own, “I’m hoping thirst isn’t your execution style.”
“You’d better continue to hope. You're not getting an easy exit. Ya see this inheritance of yours isn’t free. You're going to earn it, If you get it at all.”
With a smile Tyler replied politely, “Well I’d very much like to earn it. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tyler. And your name?”
The jailor scoffed, “You're not going to get it like that.”
Tyler's eyes ever so slightly narrowed, “Well how do I get it then?”
At this, the jailor gave a jagged smile, “There it is. What you care about. You want it. You want your golden ticket. You go ahead and spill your guts. If I like what I see you might get it.”
Atlas_Analects OP t1_j4ejdx4 wrote
Reply to [WP] You’ve recently been promised a great deal of money, but to receive it you must undergo a trial. You’re to be locked in a room until you can convince your jailor to release you. by Atlas_Analects
How long can a man last without water? That haunting question had never seemed so relevant to Tyler as it did now. It was a question that exposed Tyler even further, a question that revealed how dependent he was. It was precisely this dependence that the trial demanded be displayed, and it did dearly demand that display. Anemic bleached white walls, and buzzing fluorescent lights had been his welcoming party. Alone, in what was like a white void, Tyler was left with nothing to do but wait, his body the sole patch of color, the sole focus of the room. That sort of exposure has an effect on the mind. It draws your own inner demons out, as the only thing to criticize is yourself, and as the thirst set in Tyler knew his body deserved plenty of criticism. Like demons sucking blood, that thirst weaned his strength. So his mind began to wean as well, for the mind is of the body, and his body was beginning to fade.
His body was dependent, and by association he too was dependent. His body had been left exposed by walls, but his mind was exposed by the isolation, and the exposure of his mind was what was truly terrifying. This gnawing realization sat deep inside him, but like the ghosts of so many realizations it was buried. That pesky pimple, that broken nail, that old sore knee. Worn out things that will continue to wear out. Man can only go so far with the bodies we are gifted. Tyler felt the race taking its toll, as he stared blankly at those empty walls, his mind hiding the terror that he’d rather not face. Terror is patient, until it’s not, and terror’s arrival was imminent.
Echoing in the distance, it came with a scraping sound, that of jagged metal. It dragged its hulking, scarred, husk of a body along the corridor before hauling open that prison's drab metal door. Its labored breathing, and spiteful snort broke the hum of the lights. This thing, which smelled of vomit, donned a scowl which made its scars look positively peachy by comparison. Its leg was gone, just like the left half of its face. Tyler looked at with the horror of realization; He now understood what the world could to do to him. This monster was a man who had been brutalized, both his body and his mind. With a slam the tortured jailor placed his chair and took a seat.
Tentatively Tyler decided to begin, “I’m assuming you're my Jailor?.”
The raspy voice of the jailor wheezed out, “I’m your judge, jury, and executioner.”
Tyler gave a parched wheeze of his own, “I’m hoping thirst isn’t your execution style.”
“You’d better continue to hope. You're not getting an easy exit. Ya see this inheritance of yours isn’t free. You're going to earn it, If you get it at all.”
With a smile Tyler replied politely, “Well I’d very much like to earn it. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tyler. And your name?”
The jailor scoffed, “You're not going to get it like that.”
Tyler's eyes ever so slightly narrowed, “Well how do I get it then?”
At this, the jailor gave a jagged smile, “There it is. What you care about. You want it. You want your golden ticket. You go ahead and spill your guts. If I like what I see you might get it.”
End part 1