The room was dark. Seems silly to think about that now. It had always been dark in there. Ever since he was trapped in this godforsaken place but he kept thinking and he didn’t know why.
What was the point? Maybe it was boredom or maybe he was trying to remember something important. Remember what? What was the point of remembering, because he knew he wasn’t getting out this time?
His name, his job, his life gone. All because of this room. This damn room.
What the hell had he done to deserve this fate?
Where is the door?
Why try. It’s locked, and you know it is.
Maybe someone would hear him if he’d scream.
The walls are thick and padded you, idiot. Nothing was getting out or in.
He had to do something.
He kept thinking……….
I've always been a jack of all trades. I've been a poet, author, social commentator, comedian, online gamer, pod cast host, and Youtuber. I've had a class A license to drive semi truck over the road. I've worked as a chef, manager and all kitchen positions in hundreds of restaurants over the years. I've traveled in Mexico, Canada and through 37 of the 50 states. I've been a volunteer firefighter in Florida, where I grew up. I've fished the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and saw the far distant coast line of Cuba before its recent opening to the west. I've married, had 4 kids, divorced, got CKD stage 6 (end stage renal failure) Survived a stroke, mild heart attack, MRSA, blood clots and now chronic heart failure. Fully disabled and home bound, the internet is my social outlet, and window on the world. I go to dialysis three times a week, I watch movies, play video games and chat with people on social media. Writing is my catharsis for a life that is now spent measuring the time I have left, less the tomorrows that may never be.