Post by Cian Mahoney on Jul 12, 2009 19:13:59 GMT -6
Not related to anything on here.. i just wrote it up and want to post it right away though i knew i shouldn't on the the site it belongs in. Not just yet anyway. so here is where i store it.
What dark thoughts and ideas might dwell within the hollow vacancies of the mind? We may never know for sure, but Cian was willing to find out. It was the only way he would be able to survive in such a dismal place such as this. Hearing the tortured screams of ages rip through the dark and dreary passages of this prison. Dark souls who deserved to be in such a place. A place that he himself didn't deserve to be in and yet here he was, just the same. Laying on the cold, hard floor. His ear pressed against it as he lay on his side facing out of the small and filthy cell. No longer did he feel the cold. No longer was there a hint of life in him. He was deep inside his mind and hiding. From what? Cian was hiding from the dark figures that glided so effortlessly through this place of death. A place surrounded by a storm. Furious and raging as the sound of waves crashing against the building was a constant and regular thing. A thing that reminded you, like the howling winds, that this was the last place on earth before stepping through the gates of hell itself.
The blackened and cloaked skeletal figures stole through. Draining the place of any glimmer of happiness. It was always so cold. Alone, and yet he was surrounded by hundreds of others that were bound to an eternity, for that was how time passed here. Here in Azkaban, time passed not in seconds, minutes hours or days. It passed instead in eternities. Every day went on. Never seeming to end as the sun neither rose nor fell, and the moon followed that same suit. Cian would sometimes look out the microscopic barred window with the false hope of catching a brief moment where he might see a star, or even the moon, or sun. But as always there was nothing there but the black raging sea and the cold wind. Dark masses of swirling clouds. Cian blinked once. Then twice. He was returning to the hellish reality. He sat upright slowly and peered through the darkness. His back was pressed against the wall and he sat cross legged on the cold floor. He probably hadn't been there for more then a couple of days, but his dingy striped shirt and pants, were already covered in filth. As was he. Cian looked like those who had been in there for ages.
His dim eyes stared blankly out the cell, and he knew they would be coming soon. It had been a while since a dementor had paid him a visit and so he waited. Already tears were streaming down his face. Shouting again. Someone knew that Cian was up. A large group of them now. Death Eaters. All of them knew that he was a muggleborn. This was truly no place for him. Constantly thrown in with the wolves. Threats being made and verbal abuse to an unknown degree. His soul was dying in this place. Wearing on him fast, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to survive here. Not for the year. Not ever. Then, there it was. Happiness was being sucked away once more. Surprised as he hadn't seen the attacking dementor at all. His observational skills were fading in here. After Cian felt like he would pass out, the Dementor took its leave and left him. Moving to the next prisoner here. Then to the next, and the next, and the next. This was to keep all drained of their energy. Easier to control and maintain. Cian wanted to go home. Once more he was on his side. Pale and sick. Alone and terrified, he was just too tired to express any of it. He wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping. All he would do is stare out of his cell and return to that small place deep inside his mind. The most inner point. A place he could escape to. Unfortunately he was a registered animagus. Otherwise he would have used it to lessen these blows. But he couldn't. Now he waited. For what? Anything. He was waiting for someone to come down that dismal corridor and unlock the doors, and release him from this place. Yet he had a sinking feeling that was never going to happen. That he was going to be stuck in here and left to rot away until the end of his sentencing. So he remained dead to the world to survive. Keeping sane by receding inward. He was being ruined in here.
What dark thoughts and ideas might dwell within the hollow vacancies of the mind? We may never know for sure, but Cian was willing to find out. It was the only way he would be able to survive in such a dismal place such as this. Hearing the tortured screams of ages rip through the dark and dreary passages of this prison. Dark souls who deserved to be in such a place. A place that he himself didn't deserve to be in and yet here he was, just the same. Laying on the cold, hard floor. His ear pressed against it as he lay on his side facing out of the small and filthy cell. No longer did he feel the cold. No longer was there a hint of life in him. He was deep inside his mind and hiding. From what? Cian was hiding from the dark figures that glided so effortlessly through this place of death. A place surrounded by a storm. Furious and raging as the sound of waves crashing against the building was a constant and regular thing. A thing that reminded you, like the howling winds, that this was the last place on earth before stepping through the gates of hell itself.
The blackened and cloaked skeletal figures stole through. Draining the place of any glimmer of happiness. It was always so cold. Alone, and yet he was surrounded by hundreds of others that were bound to an eternity, for that was how time passed here. Here in Azkaban, time passed not in seconds, minutes hours or days. It passed instead in eternities. Every day went on. Never seeming to end as the sun neither rose nor fell, and the moon followed that same suit. Cian would sometimes look out the microscopic barred window with the false hope of catching a brief moment where he might see a star, or even the moon, or sun. But as always there was nothing there but the black raging sea and the cold wind. Dark masses of swirling clouds. Cian blinked once. Then twice. He was returning to the hellish reality. He sat upright slowly and peered through the darkness. His back was pressed against the wall and he sat cross legged on the cold floor. He probably hadn't been there for more then a couple of days, but his dingy striped shirt and pants, were already covered in filth. As was he. Cian looked like those who had been in there for ages.
His dim eyes stared blankly out the cell, and he knew they would be coming soon. It had been a while since a dementor had paid him a visit and so he waited. Already tears were streaming down his face. Shouting again. Someone knew that Cian was up. A large group of them now. Death Eaters. All of them knew that he was a muggleborn. This was truly no place for him. Constantly thrown in with the wolves. Threats being made and verbal abuse to an unknown degree. His soul was dying in this place. Wearing on him fast, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to survive here. Not for the year. Not ever. Then, there it was. Happiness was being sucked away once more. Surprised as he hadn't seen the attacking dementor at all. His observational skills were fading in here. After Cian felt like he would pass out, the Dementor took its leave and left him. Moving to the next prisoner here. Then to the next, and the next, and the next. This was to keep all drained of their energy. Easier to control and maintain. Cian wanted to go home. Once more he was on his side. Pale and sick. Alone and terrified, he was just too tired to express any of it. He wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping. All he would do is stare out of his cell and return to that small place deep inside his mind. The most inner point. A place he could escape to. Unfortunately he was a registered animagus. Otherwise he would have used it to lessen these blows. But he couldn't. Now he waited. For what? Anything. He was waiting for someone to come down that dismal corridor and unlock the doors, and release him from this place. Yet he had a sinking feeling that was never going to happen. That he was going to be stuck in here and left to rot away until the end of his sentencing. So he remained dead to the world to survive. Keeping sane by receding inward. He was being ruined in here.