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Inside Out

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Everything started where it ended. The flash of light blinded me to the point of pain. Not knowing what to do, I retreated hastily in a defensive maneuver. And then, the sound came crashing down drowning my dual hearing in a metallic way. Facing myself in the darkness, only to see myself on the opposite corner of my mind created an intricate web of illusions. But, as the iron door was open and I felt the threshold to a collective hell, my two self’s became one in an instant. By then, I was amnesiac and trying to sort out the timeliness of it all. Forgetting that my sensing of time was all forgotten too. I basically realized that I was alive when I heard people talking and simultaneously feeling the violence on my flesh. Cruelty that accelerated the overcoming of my temporary blindness and only to see myself surrounded by other demons menacing my soul. When the brutality came to an end, my tormented body told me that I was not dead. I had been in solitary confinement and in total darkness for so long that my mind just dissolved into oblivion. They dragged me down a long hallway, only to make a turn into another even longer and losing consciousness in the process. I woke up on the floor, when I felt the coldness of the soup dripping on my face, or whatever was left of it. Then a piece of dry meat came down hitting my swollen and disfigured face. And like an animal, I started licking the amorphous liquid wherever I could find it and at the same time sucking whatever juice I could, from the pretend piece of meat, since my teeth had been long gone. It was a total primitive way of existing. I couldn’t remember what sins I had committed or how I ended up at that point of the universe. I was trying to make sense of my existence and why I was there, when I was interrupted by the violence of the locals. I felt my body floating in pain and my mind trapped in my head trying an impossible escape. At the end, I had been reduced to a some sort of nothingness and making it more daring the attempt to navigate the levers of hell. After the thorough welcoming ceremony, I was again dragged to a different cell, where I slept for days without realizing that there was some kind of a bed waiting at a short distance. A resemblance of my identity came in the form of a number, somehow printed on my rag and getting to reintroduce me to myself, when I saw my reconfigured face by captivity, reflected on a bucket of water. Time passed or I thought it did, to the point that I was able to walk again. And by using a raw piece of wood as a cane, I drove my legs to the patio only to realize that I was surrounded by a bigger prison, the ocean. Dealing with the jarring questions of who was I or what I was accused of, it became like some sort of a paradox, were I felt no guilt or remorse. Once outside, a guard approached me and without asking, he put an iron shackle on my right ankle connected by a chain to a sphere of the same material. And me without asking, he said: “Just in case” even though we were on an island. I was known as the “4”. The only number legible out of the rest of the serial ones already faded away from my rag. Riding the twisted paradox, made me feel with the upmost innocence, intertwined with profound feelings of injustice. Making a stark contrast with the draconian world around me. Within my moral reborn self, I started to regain some weight, in part, because a guard flickered recognition of my misery. So giving me extra rations of what they called food as a consequence. Over time, my body started to change, along with my strength and the complicity of my acquaintance. One day, looking at the ocean in the patio, a peer behind me said: “There’s a way out you know “ half question, half affirmation. And as I turned around, to match the voice with the physical appearance, I couldn’t do it, since the sunrays were exactly behind the head. So all I could see was a shadow casted over the facial expressions. “Just look at the tide over that cliff “ Pointing me to the mysterious way out. Over the next months, I studied the tip with the conclusion that it was difficult but not impossible. And at the same time treading carefully the floating artifact that was to be used as an escaping vessel. Laborious task that took time to implement and complete. A dream of freedom that came to a partial fruition. The difficult endeavor was to read the pattern of the tides and how they would strike the rock shoreline below the particular cliff. Already as much as fully recovered from the physical damage as possible, I decided to set the time of the freedom day. Had to be over the summer after studying the connection between the ocean and the night sky moon. But, fate intervened and my accomplice drop the news, that, the prison engineers were coming for renovations. So he gave me an improvised hand written map about what lied beyond the horizon, along with a farewell kind of goodbye. So that night, not even summer yet and hoping the underwater currents and the ocean tides will take me towards freedom, I went to the cliff and with a full moon I was able to see the foaming waves of salt water striking relentlessly the rocky shoreline. With the wind in my favor, I was able to dive into the low current traveling wave that eventually took us deep into the ocean and hoping we would survive. The following morning, I was awakened by a sea gull who landed on my stomach, like a sign. Since I was pregnant. Papillon


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