?You figure we?ll ever make it out of here, Douglas??
Two men sat in a small, dank cell. The only light to see by came through a slit in the wall above their heads, but even that was mostly blocked by the rolling clouds outside and the heavy rainfall that poured down over the city. Water trickled down the stone and onto the first man?s head. The sudden cold made him jump, but he soon settled and instead relished in that sensation. It was inexplicably hot in that cell.
?Ain?t a cell in the world that can hold me for long, Wright.?
The two men addressed each other as such. One was Douglas and the other Wright. They had never met before the day Wright was thrown in headfirst. Douglas had been there for a month already, by his telling of it. They spoke little at first, but as time went by and boredom grew the men grew to know each other a little more and more. Douglas? first name was Glenn, he was the son of a sheriff from a town not far from here. He?d ran with a few gangs and shot a handful of men and now he was waiting out his sentence, which was as good as an execution in its own right.
Wright?s first name was Morgan and he too came from a town not far off. But his old man was a doctor who was killed by a gang not unlike the ones Douglas ran with. He hated Douglas on principle alone at first, but being confined to a closed space for so long warmed you up. That was the only way to stop himself from going mad in the dark. The guards forgot to feed them a lot, so both were lean and hungry but too weak to stir up much of a fuss about it. On a good week they?d get two, maybe three meals.
?What're you in for?? Douglas asked for the thousandth time. Wright had done everything he could to get that question out of mind.
?I sold my soul,? he said at last. It was a conversation he?d hoped to avoid, he?d been dreading it. No one liked men such as he and Douglas, he knew, was capable of tearing his throat out even now.
?Sold your soul, huh?? Douglas spit something into the stone and sat with his back against the metal door, staring through the dark at Wright. ?What for??
?What does anyone sell their soul for, Douglas? Money? Power? Women?? he smiled wryly and put his hands together. His fingers kneaded against one another and when they spread, a light flickered in and out and tiny lines of green quivered in the air. It was weak and faded quick and that alone left Wright feeling worse than before.
?Power, I?d say,? Douglas observed with a snort. ?Sold your soul for a few tricks.?
?Not tricks, Douglas. I sold it to take back what?s mine.?
?And what?s that??
?My life.?
Two men sat in a small, dank cell. The only light to see by came through a slit in the wall above their heads, but even that was mostly blocked by the rolling clouds outside and the heavy rainfall that poured down over the city. Water trickled down the stone and onto the first man?s head. The sudden cold made him jump, but he soon settled and instead relished in that sensation. It was inexplicably hot in that cell.
?Ain?t a cell in the world that can hold me for long, Wright.?
The two men addressed each other as such. One was Douglas and the other Wright. They had never met before the day Wright was thrown in headfirst. Douglas had been there for a month already, by his telling of it. They spoke little at first, but as time went by and boredom grew the men grew to know each other a little more and more. Douglas? first name was Glenn, he was the son of a sheriff from a town not far from here. He?d ran with a few gangs and shot a handful of men and now he was waiting out his sentence, which was as good as an execution in its own right.
Wright?s first name was Morgan and he too came from a town not far off. But his old man was a doctor who was killed by a gang not unlike the ones Douglas ran with. He hated Douglas on principle alone at first, but being confined to a closed space for so long warmed you up. That was the only way to stop himself from going mad in the dark. The guards forgot to feed them a lot, so both were lean and hungry but too weak to stir up much of a fuss about it. On a good week they?d get two, maybe three meals.
?What're you in for?? Douglas asked for the thousandth time. Wright had done everything he could to get that question out of mind.
?I sold my soul,? he said at last. It was a conversation he?d hoped to avoid, he?d been dreading it. No one liked men such as he and Douglas, he knew, was capable of tearing his throat out even now.
?Sold your soul, huh?? Douglas spit something into the stone and sat with his back against the metal door, staring through the dark at Wright. ?What for??
?What does anyone sell their soul for, Douglas? Money? Power? Women?? he smiled wryly and put his hands together. His fingers kneaded against one another and when they spread, a light flickered in and out and tiny lines of green quivered in the air. It was weak and faded quick and that alone left Wright feeling worse than before.
?Power, I?d say,? Douglas observed with a snort. ?Sold your soul for a few tricks.?
?Not tricks, Douglas. I sold it to take back what?s mine.?
?And what?s that??
?My life.?