Dark Rivers Of The Soul

Staring intently across his cell, his eyes fixated on the passport photograph centred precisely in the middle of the white baron wall. The only object adorning his cell was the face of perfection, a vision he had observed and studied faultlessly over the past 4 years, 8 months, 10 days, 16 hours and 30 minutes. This single image was situated on the wall as a symbolic testimony; she was the centre of his universe. Nothing else was of importance she took precedence over all other beings, objects and desires. Even the loss of his freedom was insignificant she was worth every second of this incarceration.

Sat cross legged on his bed in a meditation pose his peripheral vision caught sight of a shadow pass his cell window to his left. Turning his head 45 degrees he sighed at the distraction of his curiosity, taking his attention away from his feminine idol. The window, a square barred view of frosted glass was nothing of interest to him, he often pondered at the irony of this pointless aspect of his world. Suddenly a black figure arose from the depths eclipsing the light of day, then as quickly as it vanished, the light returned and a lonesome shadow appeared at the glass. “Good morning Frank” he spoke as a partial grin appeared on Nathaniel’s face. “Why do all your entrances have to be so abrupt” he questioned the crow. No reply came as Frank stood silently. He would often perch himself there surveying the ground below which consisted of nothing more than waste land with a boundary fence, encaging the hospital wing. A world where time slowed to a monotonous speed for the majority except Nathaniel, for him an eternity of looking into her eyes would be more enticing than staring at the pearly gates of heaven.

Frank opened his wings plunging the room into a shadowy world, and then flew away into the distance, the black shrouded mass joining the many other distant blurs. “Farewell my friend, watch over her closely” he uttered as he turned to face the visionary once more. However, once again another distraction caught his eye, the TV situated above the iron door which had displayed nothing but a red line across the centre all morning had disappeared to be replaced by static, the grey and black collage of squares shimmered in silence.

Nathaniel arose from the bed, and stepped forward placing his index and middle finger on the picture, covering the forehead nose and mouth leaving only her eyes. Which stirred in him an erotic feeling of desire that swept throughout his body, closing his eyes as though to trap this feeling inside him forever.

Not even the sound of the cell door unlocking disturbed this moment, the electronic latch released and the bolt disengaged with a loud clunk, the door opened an inch with a slow creak. Still he stood his hand against the wall, his head lowered and his eyes closed as in worship of his idol. After what appeared a life time had passed, the emotion now subsided and he removed his hand before opening his eyes and turning his head ninety degrees to see the door ajar. Walking towards the door he felt as though he was walking on air, surely even the most potent and powerful drug couldn’t leave him feeling this way, like a thousand climaxes simultaneously. He raised his left arm and with his four fingers pushed open the door. He was only now aware of the shouting and screaming from along the corridor. He looked above his head, the static of the TV had now been replaced by black emptiness.

The door was now fully open, lowering his head a figure ran past him dressed in white, the man appeared to be running from the devil himself. The orderly was being pursued by a man who’s face was possessed with a crazed desire for violence. The mad mans overalls were spattered with blood from a gaping wound he sustained to his head. The crimson liquid flowed down his forehead over his brow and poured down the ridge of his nose, almost as though the taste of his own blood fuelled him with rage he passed Nathaniel in the doorway without noticing him, like a tiger in pursuit of a deer his focus remained intently on his prey.

Turning his head Nathaniel followed the chase, the orderly’s screams becoming drowned out by the other shouts and calls of mercy. Swinging his head around to the left a nightstick came hurtling towards his head, another orderly, his facial expression covered in fear and blood, shirt torn open. Nathaniel raised his left arm blocking the imminent blow, like a sword of fire the night stick hit him with an immensely powerful force, followed by the sensation his forearm was on fire. Nathaniel swung up his right hand with lightening speed and guided his outstretched fingers towards the throat crushing his windpipe, his nails punctured the skin and entered the throat, like bullets they tore through flesh until they hit what felt like bone. Phillip as his name tag read fell to his knees, blood splattering Nathaniel. The nightstick fell, at the same point Phillip’s face hit the floor between Nathaniel’s feet.

Knelt in what appeared like a position of prayer Nathaniel looked down at Phillip “Irony seems to have a sense of humour”. No alarms, he looked to the left then the right the cell doors now open, inmates were running towards the end of the blood strewn corridor. Their destination, freedom.

Nathaniel turned, looking inside his cell. Now was his chance to stare into those deep foreboding eyes as he would stand before their possessor, reunited with her, he shall take his beloved angel to their eternal resting place, where his dream will be fulfilled to gaze into her eyes for eternity. Nathaniel stepped across Phillip, his bare feet now scarlet red, still on a high the excitement of meeting her once more overwhelmed him. The shiver returned and was too much to bare, his heart, his hands, his loins yearned for her. He left his cell for the first time in 4 years, 8 months, and 10 days. The only object that remained was the photo, the centre of his being, that perfect creation that is Lana.