The Journey

The Journey

My prison of darkness is so completely overbearing that I dare not close my eyes, for blackness greater than this will surely be the key that unlocks insanity. I do not know precisely how long I have been confined. I can, however, infer that the reasoning behind my capture was because of my intentions. I am no saint. I have pondered my fair share of inhumane acts; things that would not only be shunned by the population but actions that would be sure to give them a reason to deem me a disciple of Lucifer himself.
Yet, my plans for the future are not significant enough to warrant my detainment. I have not yet committed any crime in this area. I have not yet rebelled against this territory, destroying all presence of life around me in a methodical, calculated, and clever manner. I would never have been caught again for any of the deeds I had boiling in the cauldron of doom I call my brain. I learn from my mistakes. It pains me to think about my memory’s refusal to conjure up all the images that it holds of my voyage to this damned place. It would be such a welcome picture, reminiscing on every moment of ny freedom; removing myself from the blackness of this abyss, even if it were just mentally.
I do remember some things though, like the initial urge to travel. It was partly motivated by the fact that I had just been caught back home and needed a new area to continue my havoc wreaking. So I left. I began my travels at home. I moved effortlessly through the familiar territory, ignoring the people and places that usually would have drawn me away from thoughts of departure. In time, I left the comfort of the known and was almost flattened when I saw how beautiful the areas outside my dwelling were. I had never even thought of exploring until then, and the fact that this was the first time I had been able to see a world other than my own brought about an extreme sense of wonderment. I was in awe.
Still I was pulled. As I journeyed, I began to contemplate the things I could do in an area where nobody knew me. The malevolent exploits that could be executed on the premise that I was a stranger, an outsider, and therefore unknown. My captors must have known I would likely be in almost orgasmic delight at the prospect of committing new crimes against a part of humanity that was new to me. They used this small obsession of mine to draw me here in the most underhanded of ways. I have yet to see these abductors, but in my mind they are snakes without tongues, soundlessly hissing at me with pleasure as I twist and turn in the darkness of my prison.
My apologies, I digress. As the distance I traveled grew steadily greater, and my wicked cravings began to creep back into their caves, I considered giving up. Indeed, at one point I stopped and looked back at the vastness of the space I had traveled, and almost turned back. But the pull of a new and exciting future brought me back into motion, so I continued trudging forward, as would a Marine on a routine 40 mile hike in the mountains with a drill sergeant behind him screaming in his ear through an amplifier.
The truth is my memory becomes fuzzy at this point. I do not remember how much longer I traveled, whether it was days, weeks, or even months. All I remember is the moment when I realized I had arrived. The pull of adventure dropped as suddenly as it had appeared, and I surveyed the area, searching for what had brought me to this particular site. The seizure was so quick and premeditated that I actually didn’t realize I’d been taken until I was… here. In the blackness, the place I’ve been ever since then, a place I’ve grown to hate with a passion.
From time to time I hear voices, taunting me, ridiculing me, enjoying the clever methods they used to apprehend me. I forever smile back, because I believe that the darkness I see does not prevent them from surveying me. I smile… and wait. There are always consequences for one’s actions, and these doomed citizens of earth have acted against a being that knows no mercy. They signed their death warrants the moment they enslaved me in this chasm. I will get my chance- I occasionally see the light they don’t want me to see. And, when the time is right, I will make my move, exit this hell hole, and unleash my fury upon the imbeciles who incarcerated me. I will make them bow to me, eyes and ears open, as I exact my revenge on their bodies, minds, and souls. Only then will they know respect and fear. Infamy is my title, and I plan to live up to my name. I will escape this gulf of doom.
And when I do, the world will know true terror.
* * *

“Ms. Hart… it’s a boy.”
As the doctor handed Alicia her child, she smiled with pleasure. She was happy both to be finally holding her baby in her arms, and to be rid of the discomfort of pregnancy. She gazed up at her fiancée, Robert Diago, rubbing his arm lovingly. She was so proud of him. Not many men could boast about surviving testicular cancer and still be able to create the bundle of joy she now held in her arms. As she glanced at his face, she paused. He seemed to be almost… frightened by something. At first she couldn’t discern who the look of anger was directed at.
“What’s wrong babe?”
Robert’s eyes shifted as he looked at her and smiled.
“Nothing, I just… nothing.”
She smiled back up at him, admiring the facial features that she had always hoped their child would inherit. Looking down at her newborn baby for the first time, Alicia studied his face, searching for any noticeable hereditary features. When it seemed as if it were too early to tell, she just resigned herself to admiring him. The uneasiness came swiftly. She realized then that the baby hadn’t made a sound since exiting the womb. In fact, the only signs of life were in his eyes, which currently had her hypnotized. The books she had read had stated that babies cannot see for days after they are born. Looking in her baby’s eyes, she saw an impossibly acute awareness. As she peered closer, the lines between reality and fiction became blurred as the miraculous event of giving birth lost its grandeur. Horrified by what she was witnessing, Alicia began to feel an emptiness growing in the pit of her stomach that wasn’t an after effect of labor. Glaring up at her, little Alexander Diago’s eyes glowed an unnatural, inhuman, blood red. As Alicia held in a gasp that fought to escape from her throat, her newborn baby sneered at her and let out a disheartening, utterly terrifying cackle at the sight of his mother’s pale face.