By Neel Anil Panicker

In prison, life unfolds in excruciatingly slow motion.

The first week of my incarceration was hell.

Harshly extricated from a world where a walk in the park, yoga on the mat, three hour business meetings with similar other suits, digging teeth into the best of Lebanese sea food and other rare gastronomic delights, and then come evenings letting ones’ hair down with the best of Scotch with Aka crooning hungrily in the background “Baby I Want You Tonight” were the norm and finding myself dumped in a six by six near darkened iron bars encased corner cell where the only sound that you heard come day, come night was the howl of your own agony filled screams was a huge come down; a colossal extreme from what life had so far meant.

At the end of Week One I gave up. Well, almost. Devoid of all human contact, my mind a turmoil, a million miles away from home and hearth, and subsisting only on two near uncooked rotis and a semi-liquid spurious watery concoction that I suspected to be at least a month old, I shut my eyes to all reality, praying to all Gods, known and unknown, to help rid me of this sodden existence.

Deliverance came on Day Eight, when I opened my weary near blinded eyes only to find myself staring at the ceiling__towards a small slit between the all black stony rocks that held it, at a skein of near invisible beam of light.

Sitting up straight, I ignored the sound of my bones cracking and the benumbing pain that had taken roots in my lower left back and concentrated on the vision.

Too miniscule to even make it possible for me to see the lines in my hands, or the muddy floor on which I lay, weak enough to even illuminate the iron bars of the solitary gate that entrapped my existence, the light__this light which I was seeing__still held for me a ray of hope, it birthed in me a belief (even if it were fragile and flickering) that there could a way out of this hell, that a mere sigh behind my darkened existence awaited light.

All I had to do was not give up hope and reach out.

‘It was then and there that I decided to make friends with this ray of light.

Little did I know then how valuable a friend it would turn out to be, ultimately even helping me to plan my escape from this underground 17th century cell in a God forsaken island off the coast of Maldives.

#neelanilpanicker #shortstory #fiction #flash #flashfiction #mindlovesmisery #light

Tale Weaver- #171- May 17th – Light

2 thoughts on “neelwrites/light/prisiondiaries/escapefromhell/fiction/shortstory/mindloversmisery/22/05/2018

  1. Excellent response Neel, I very much liked how you explored light and its importance in your piece.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I very much appreciate you taking time out and reading my story. Your critical analysis is invaluable. Thanks a lot, Mike.

      Liked by 1 person

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