Thursday, March 3, 2011

Dillon's SAW #1: The Sole of Infidelity

The cell had been sectioned off, a young woman lying face first in the grime and sanguine liquid that had leaked from her wounds. She was a mess, but her exterior revealed only a fraction of the damage compared to the havoc the internal bleeding had caused. The perpetrator sat shaking in the interrogation room, fear, rage, and anguish running through her veins. She had walked barefoot to the victim's open cell and lambasted her with a boot. Paramedics had been called in, due to the lack of supplies and adequately trained personnel in the prisons health ward. The paramedics did what they could, but in the end it was for naught. The guard on duty that night stood and looked upon the scene with sorrow. He knew the woman, she had been arrested for participating in riots during the G8 Summit, charged with rioting, disturbing the peace, and resisting arrest. He knew her to be a good person none the less, she was kind and caring, always willing to listen and help. In truth, he had grown feelings for her. His life and marriage had been falling apart at the hands of stress and time. In his head, he told himself he was crazy. An inmate? Are you losing your wits? You can't be serious. His mind kept saying it, but the thoughts of her kept overcoming them. Suddenly, squawks of outrage came from the neighboring cell block. A slender woman with snuff-colored shoulder length hair, worn in a loose bun, came tramping down the catwalks. Her gaunt face was contorted in petulance. She wore a blue paramedic suit unzipped enough to give a glimpse of a locket on a braided silver chain, her black boots treading heavily on the metal. She had her eyes locked on the guard, who felt a deep chill run through him. The fire in her eyes burned brighter every step until she reached the sentry in blue. The chain was quickly unfastened and used as a flail as the locket slapped the sentinel's face. He was not sure how to respond. Should it be anger? Apologetic? Confusion? But he could not act and stayed stoic. She berated him with words in her fury and, surprisingly enough, was all she did. A ring fell the two flights down to the cement below, and she, in a fit of an unexplainable combination of emotion, was gone. The guard knew what had happened, she had overheard the killer's stories of the inmate and the guard. Perhaps this was for the best, ending something that could not be fixed or saved. All he knew is that this day could only get worse.

I don't like this story. I dislike this story. I hate this story. I feel that it rambled a bit, the ending was horrible, (I ran into a block there and just improv-ed it through with terrible results) and the sensibility was gone from it, but it was hard to put anything to it. It has the movie feel of "Who in the hell would do this?" It took all I could muster not to just have the prison explode and be done with it. Holy-Jumping-Fucking-Jesus the prompt was a hell of a challenge, and I suppose this will have to do. Next week I'm doing my own idea.

Challenge Completed

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