Derry Sceal
Alone and Condemned
The heavy steel door of the punishment cell slammed shut behind me. In a bewildered daze I vaguely heard the jingle of keys and the steady footsteps fading away in the wake of its thunderous echo. An ungodly silence fell, leaving only the sound of my sharp rasping breaths.My eyes flashed at the bareness of my humble surroundings. Awooden board for a bed, a concrete block for a stool, a concrete slab as a table. A bright light burned high above me, reflecting off the chalk white walls, and the severe cold bored through my body and numbed my bare feet. Naked, alone, and condemned, I began to pace the small, freezing cold cell; my thoughts in an entangled mess, riddled with panic, worry and fear. Condemned! ‘We’ll be back in eight hours’, that’s what they said. Jesus, what time is it now? Eight hours, that’s all I’ve left.
It will hurt. I know it will hurt. Everyone says it hurts. Oh God, it’s not happening to me. It’s not happening, I’m trapped. Entombedl No escape I Nowhere to hide. And nowhere to run. I’m condemned to face what awaits me in eight hours. I can’t appeal, I can’t plead, they won’t even listen, they just laugh, they’re glad, they revel in it. That’s why they give me a warning of eight hours, to watch me sweat and worry.
They have it well planned. They’re watching me now. They’re watching me through that little slit in the cell door. They won’t give me peace, but what peace can I find? I’m so scared, I can’t even think right. I wish I was at home. I wonder what the family are doing now? Sitting around the fire in a nice warm room having tea. Jesus, it’s getting colder. My feet are blue. I wonder what they are thinking? What would they think if they knew what is to happen to me? It would only make it worse, they would suffer, they would worry so much, but maybe they have secretly been expecting this, and never said so. Maybe it’s better they don’t know.They won’t break my spirit. I won’t let them do that. They can do what they will with me, but I won’t concede my spirit. Yes, that’s it. Calm down, fight back, show them your spirit, settle down, and get ready for them….. There’s a bible in the corner – flick through it and stop thinking about it. Six hours! Take heart…. The prophet Sirach: ‘Blessed is he whose heart does not condemn him, and who does not give up his hope.’ Remember that. Remember those words. I’m alright.
I won’t give up hope. No, I won’t give up hope. They’re watching again. Ignore them. Let on you don’t see them. Jesus, it’s freezing. It’s so quiet, it’s ghostly. Walk again, keep moving, get your body warm. How long left now? What time is it? I’m losing track. Have a guess. Five hours left, maybe less I must be ready. I’m shaking again. Don’t fail now. Get it right, they’ll be back. I’m depressed! Jesus Christ! I’m cracking, I’m going insane… I wish I had someone to talk to, even for a few minutes. Keys! The jingle of keys. Footsteps! They’re coming back. Jesus it’s not time yet. They’ve tricked me, they’re coming for me now.
Don’t fail, remember your spirit. ‘Blessed is he who does not give uphis hope.’ Jesus, Mary and Joseph, watch over me and protect me. Key in the door. It’s open. Oh, dear God…
“Grub up! What are you gaping at, son? Take it.” (You’ll pay some day, you bastard, you’ll pay.) “Don’t stir Take it in, you tramp.”
Got it. He’s shutting the door. Slam! Keys jingling. They’re going, they’re leaving. Thank God. Thank God, they’ve gone. Don’t give up hope, there’s hope still.
Cold food, no knife, no fork, only a plastic spoon. I’m not hungry, my stomach’s turning. Nerves again. I must calm down. Meet them with dignity. That’s a word: ‘dignity’. They can’t take that from me either. Naked as I am, treated worse than an animal, I am what I am. They can’t and “won’t change that.
A cigarette would be nice. It’s so long since I’ve had a cigarette or warm clothing or slept in a dry bed. I forgot what it’s like to live. I must be shocked. I don’t even feel the cold any more. I’ve lost the feeling in my poor tortured feet. It doesn’t matter. It won’t be long now. It’s creeping closer.
Two hours. Time waits on no man. I’m exhausted. God. I’m tired. I wish I could lie down and go to sleep, and wake up out of this nightmare. They’re watching me again. Keep walking. I’m sure they don’t even feel guilty. Money consoles their conscience. That is their purpose in life, to gain as much of it as possible. They’re mindless, merciless parasites. Torture mongers. Yes. that’s what they are. Some day their turn will come. They’lI have to answer for everything!
It’s gettins dark. Winter nights. I hate winter. It’s so cold and dark and lonely. I wish I was free … God, my head’s splitting. Migraine again. I feel really bad. It’s the waiting, that’s worse than anything. When it happens it will be over and that will be It. but it’s the waiting.
I feel like the only person left in the world. I’m so isolated. Fear is a terrible thing, but I must keep my head up. My spirit will survive.
They expect me to give up, to break down. but they’re going to be disappointed. I shall resist. It’s only natural that I should be afraid. Who wouldn’t be? It must be nearly time. I can hear them moving about. There will be plenty of them. there always is. God, life is hard for the oppressed. but to fight back is a victory. To remain unbroken,” spirit is a great victory.
Here they come, keys jingling and their heavy footsteps clattering.
Get ready. face them. Jesus, this is it. This time. dear God. Protect me. “Get on your feet, tramp, we’re coming.” I’m shaking again. Remember your spirit. They won’t break that. Keys in the lock. the door is open. Jesus, there must be a dozen of them. “Right, you, let’s go. ”
“I’m… I’m not going.” (Laugh all you want you torture mongers.)
”What did you say?”
“I said I’m not going.” (Some day you will all laugh on the other side of your faces.)
“You’re going alright, son. Get him out.”
Jesus. they’re on top of me, kicking and punching… I’m out of the cell. and in the corridor. Jesus, they’re dragging me by the hair. My head’s on fire, my eye is bleeding, they’ll kill me!
“Right, get him into it. Get him into it” Jesus. it’s stinging the eyes out of mel “Get the brushes.” They’re scrubbing the skin from my back, my flesh is burning, they’re murdering me. My face and body are covered in blood and marks.
“Give it to him right. Give it to him right, so the rest of these bastards will see what they’re going to get too. ”
Jesus! They’re killing me. They’re killing me. My head’s light. Remember your spirit. ‘Blessed is he who does not give up his hope.’ Don’t give in, don’t give in, they can’t break your spirit. they can’t…
Brutalised.
Derry Sceal
Prophetic phrase within the passage: “I’m sure they don’t even feel guilty. Money consoles their conscience. That is their purpose in life, to gain as much of it as possible. They’re mindless, merciless parasites”.
Related articles
- The Spirit Promised to Glorify Jesus (mwenjaevans.wordpress.com)
- Whose doing the condemning? (relevantpastor.com)
- Christian Living – ‘The New Way’ (The Veil) (aussieawakening.wordpress.com)
- Does Jesus Coexist? The Cost of Relativism (michaelmilton.org)
- Time Is Almost Upon Us (savedbygraceblogdotcom.wordpress.com)
seachranaidhe1 