Post by Porky's Butthole on Dec 16, 2009 12:26:34 GMT -5
For my English Comp. class. It's due tonight, and I want to throw the essay I wrote out here and see what you guys think. The rules of the essay are that it can be about anything, but it has to be descriptive. Any criticism will be accepted and noted. Thanks in advance.
The Dungeon
The foul stench of mildew emanated from the wet dungeon walls as Karouk awoke. His arms were tired and strained, and as he looked up, he saw that he was shackled to the wall. He tried in vain, struggling to break free, with no luck, when from the darkness came a voice.
"There is no use fighting," said the voice. It sounded like the dirty hiss of a dying snake. The owner of the voice stepped out of the darkness. He was hunched over like a migrant coffee worker, years of labor destroying his back. His tattered rags that passed for clothing draped off of his malnourished body. He smiled, a gritty, open-mouthed three-toothed grin that made Karouk gag. Open festering sores lined his tongue and the insides of his mouth. He extended his bony, fragile hand towards Karouk's own bound hand.
"Dorit." Karouk nodded at him with a somewhat odd sense of politeness, still trying to not look at the mouth of his new friend. Dorit sat next to him as if they were old pals, his brittle body making a slight thud as he did so.
"What did you do to get put in here? It had to be something bad; they only put the worst criminals in the dungeon. The rest get a cell and actual food; not the gruel they'll be feeding us.
Karouk gave him a sideways glance and sighed. "No. I can't talk about it. It's bad enough that I did it; I'll be damned if I'm going to relive it. This dungeon? It means very little to me. The shame I carry; that's my real punishment."
A single tear streamed down Karouk's face. The heat of the tear, compared with the chilly dungeon made him wince. He steadied himself, sighed, and tried to get into a comfortable position where his aching arms didn't hurt as much.
"I take it you've never been in a dungeon before."
"I've never been in a prison, let alone a dungeon," Karouk said with a little bit of pride.
"Again, you must have done something terrible to be put into here. I can roam this dank pit freely, whereas they have your hands bound. I'm still curious, wh--"
"For the last time, I'm not telling you what I did!" Karouk's voice echoed through the spacious, hollow halls of the dungeon. Dorit slumped lower into his seated position.
"All right, I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I'll tell you what I did."
Karouk looked at him with a slight tinge of anticipation. He nodded at Dorit.
"Before I was in here, I was a traveling salesman. I would ride through the villages and sell them all sorts of wares;toothbrushes(an ironic salesman, if noting,Karouk thought), blankets for their horses; you name it. But life away from my wife
and young child became too much.
"After talking it over with my wife and some friends of mine, it was decided that we'd rob the next shipment that came into port. We would take their goods, and any monies that the shippers were carrying. We stayed up until the morning sky started growing into a fiery orange planning exactly how we would do everything; we had every last detail set.
"But, the day of the planned robbery, something went awry. My best friend, Beank, was supposed to load our weapons and have them ready. So when we got to the marina where the shipment was coming in, as we reached for our guns, do you know what we found?"
"No..."
"Nothing!Absolutely nothing! I was so furious with Beank that I engaged him in fisticuffs. The bastard ran from me rather than face me with honor, like a man. So, later that night, when the moon had just risen, I stalked into his home and killed him in his sleep.
"I'll never forget that night. The sounds of his gasping for air as I choked the very life out of him; the thrashing of his arms made in defense; and last, but most certainly not least, his crying and begging for his life.
"It brought me satisfaction. But, look at me now. I'll never see my son grow to be a man. I will never get to gaze into my wife's deep hazel eyes, and stroke her long, wavy blond hair. I'll never taste the sweet air of freedom ever again. And that is my price."
Karouk took it all in. He shifted his weight, and the chains holding his hands rattled. He sighed, braced himself, and looked again at Dorit.
"Okay. I'll tell. I didn't kill anyone. I didn't even hurt anyone. All this torture I've been suffering since I was arrested could have been avoided had I only followed the warning."
"Warning?"
"Yes. You see, one night, for no reason whatsoever, I cut off the tag on the end of my mattress."
"You maniac!"
~End~
The Dungeon
The foul stench of mildew emanated from the wet dungeon walls as Karouk awoke. His arms were tired and strained, and as he looked up, he saw that he was shackled to the wall. He tried in vain, struggling to break free, with no luck, when from the darkness came a voice.
"There is no use fighting," said the voice. It sounded like the dirty hiss of a dying snake. The owner of the voice stepped out of the darkness. He was hunched over like a migrant coffee worker, years of labor destroying his back. His tattered rags that passed for clothing draped off of his malnourished body. He smiled, a gritty, open-mouthed three-toothed grin that made Karouk gag. Open festering sores lined his tongue and the insides of his mouth. He extended his bony, fragile hand towards Karouk's own bound hand.
"Dorit." Karouk nodded at him with a somewhat odd sense of politeness, still trying to not look at the mouth of his new friend. Dorit sat next to him as if they were old pals, his brittle body making a slight thud as he did so.
"What did you do to get put in here? It had to be something bad; they only put the worst criminals in the dungeon. The rest get a cell and actual food; not the gruel they'll be feeding us.
Karouk gave him a sideways glance and sighed. "No. I can't talk about it. It's bad enough that I did it; I'll be damned if I'm going to relive it. This dungeon? It means very little to me. The shame I carry; that's my real punishment."
A single tear streamed down Karouk's face. The heat of the tear, compared with the chilly dungeon made him wince. He steadied himself, sighed, and tried to get into a comfortable position where his aching arms didn't hurt as much.
"I take it you've never been in a dungeon before."
"I've never been in a prison, let alone a dungeon," Karouk said with a little bit of pride.
"Again, you must have done something terrible to be put into here. I can roam this dank pit freely, whereas they have your hands bound. I'm still curious, wh--"
"For the last time, I'm not telling you what I did!" Karouk's voice echoed through the spacious, hollow halls of the dungeon. Dorit slumped lower into his seated position.
"All right, I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I'll tell you what I did."
Karouk looked at him with a slight tinge of anticipation. He nodded at Dorit.
"Before I was in here, I was a traveling salesman. I would ride through the villages and sell them all sorts of wares;toothbrushes(an ironic salesman, if noting,Karouk thought), blankets for their horses; you name it. But life away from my wife
and young child became too much.
"After talking it over with my wife and some friends of mine, it was decided that we'd rob the next shipment that came into port. We would take their goods, and any monies that the shippers were carrying. We stayed up until the morning sky started growing into a fiery orange planning exactly how we would do everything; we had every last detail set.
"But, the day of the planned robbery, something went awry. My best friend, Beank, was supposed to load our weapons and have them ready. So when we got to the marina where the shipment was coming in, as we reached for our guns, do you know what we found?"
"No..."
"Nothing!Absolutely nothing! I was so furious with Beank that I engaged him in fisticuffs. The bastard ran from me rather than face me with honor, like a man. So, later that night, when the moon had just risen, I stalked into his home and killed him in his sleep.
"I'll never forget that night. The sounds of his gasping for air as I choked the very life out of him; the thrashing of his arms made in defense; and last, but most certainly not least, his crying and begging for his life.
"It brought me satisfaction. But, look at me now. I'll never see my son grow to be a man. I will never get to gaze into my wife's deep hazel eyes, and stroke her long, wavy blond hair. I'll never taste the sweet air of freedom ever again. And that is my price."
Karouk took it all in. He shifted his weight, and the chains holding his hands rattled. He sighed, braced himself, and looked again at Dorit.
"Okay. I'll tell. I didn't kill anyone. I didn't even hurt anyone. All this torture I've been suffering since I was arrested could have been avoided had I only followed the warning."
"Warning?"
"Yes. You see, one night, for no reason whatsoever, I cut off the tag on the end of my mattress."
"You maniac!"
~End~