The Forbidden Door (352 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by thaumaturge (View user info) at 2004-12-03 16:14:35 EST
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Facing tyrannical retribution, Samuel peered through the keyhole on the giant ironclad door.
"FORBIDDEN" was clearly slated above.
The guards sat at the large wooden table in the center of the dimly lit room, laughing and cursing as per usual.
"The one with the diary? He didn't feel much like writing after two weeks in the hole." The taller guard muttered through laughter.
"Who can read that illegible scrawl anyhow?
Samuel considered himself lucky. He was the only slave during the Crusades who was permitted to walk the walls of the prison with impunity after confessing to his tormentors that he was skilled in the culinary arts. It wasn't long before he was appointed their full-time chef.
Two knocks from Samuel's labor-worn hand sent the room into silence.
A heavy panel on the door slid open quickly, exposing a pair of emotionless eyes.
"Finally, maggot. Foods here!!"
Samuel knew better than to look directly at his tormentors, let alone speak. A violent slap would be the only reward to expect. Without pause he retreated back to his kitchen-side chamber. Waiting for him as expected, was the small well-traveled dairy that acted as the sole conduit for contact with his countrymen. Everything seemed in order based on the last communication.
****
The text read:
"We revolt in two weeks, but not without your help."
"During evening meal drop-off to the prison population, be sure to serve us with the clay dishes. From those dishes we can fashion crude weapons to subdue our immediate captors. We anticipate the weapons will take us approximately two days."
"At our last head count, taking into consideration Jonah's return from solitary confinement, we are forty strong. Based on your information, there are approximately fifty guards working around the clock. We will have to be brave, and God willing, we shall breathe freely again."
"In exactly one fortnight we will attack. We have suffered long Samuel, and are ready to die for this. On that fateful eve, be sure to add the toxins to the guard's dinner."
"Once it is passed through their door, come to the drainage grate at once. Micah will lay there in wait. Once called, we will rise against our captors and charge the main stronghold. Return to your room and keep a watchful eye and an attentive ear for our disturbance. We will send for you after securing the perimeter around the ironclad guard room."
"Without your help Samuel, we cannot prevail. On the eve of the next fortnight, weapons in hand, we will await your signal."
****
Samuel's heart yearned for freedom, and would stop at nothing to achieve it. Death was no deterrence. Despite this, Samuel's heart felt heavy. He worried endlessly of his captors uncovering their plot. The diary itself had been passed through the hands of guards an immeasurable amount of times, but luckily was deceitfully written in old script and always found it's way back to him. The guards gave Samuel tokens as such from his fallen brothers to serve as a warning, and to remind him of his privilege. The text had traveled to and from his chamber nearly every time one of his countrymen had died; a morbid messenger indeed.
This was not Samuels's solitary concern. The toxins aforementioned in the diary were not nearly as potent as the others had assumed. Mild nausea and drowsiness were the only probable effects, yet perhaps just enough of an edge to gain advantage.
Over the next few days Samuel prepared his meals and went on with his paltry existence as always. His inhibitions began to ease and set upon his task of soaking and scrubbing the clay dishes to ensure their softness upon delivery to his comrades.
The only thought running through Samuel's mind was that of freedom. To be home with his family after this ordeal would make it all worthwhile. The days crept by, shrouded in uneasiness and anxiety.
On the eve of the insurrection, Samuel was calm. With the dishes being delivered three days prior, he set to preparing what could be the final meal for the unsuspecting guards ever-present behind the ironclad door.
With a final prayer, Samuel began his usual walk to the guardroom, followed in tow by his dinner cart. After the usual knock and crude comment, he found himself beside the drainage grate, looking into the passionate eyes of Micah.
"Samuel, is everything as planned?" Micah timidly questioned.
"Yes. We must be very prudent, please keep your eyes open and move carefully."
Without a sound Micah spun around and left. Samuel quickly returned to his chamber, teeming with fear and anxiety.
Nearly thirty minutes later to the second, Samuel heard the faint traces of burgeoning insurrection. It wasn't long before he heard his countrymen grunting and screaming in the torrid throes of battle just down the hallway. It seemed his illness-inducing dinner had affected their captors after all.
"They've made it to the kitchen, if they can only reach the ironclad door..." He muttered to himself nervously.
BAM!!!
Samuel's door shook frantically.
The voice of headstrong Jonah spoke out with confidence. "Samuel! The time has come to fight, lead us to main guardroom!"
Samuel jumped from his hovel and to the aide of his fellow captives. He led them down the chamber-way to the familiar ironclad door, looming directly ahead. Inside could be heard the frantic calls to duty of the remaining guard force.
"United we stand, divided we fall!!" Jonah yelled.
"Past this door and out to freedom!!"
The men began to hammer on the door relentlessly, but alas, to no avail.
The sound of marching steps in unison overcame their struggle to open the large door. A wave of paranoia swept over the men; a now depleted group of eighteen.
"Together!!" Jonah again shouted.
Just as he was about to spout off another inspiring rally, the familiar panel on the door slid open and a large arm grabbed him by the hair, while another brandished a steel blade that swiftly opened Jonah's throat; a display for all to see.
Moments after this the door burst open exposing a final force, cold and menacing. Acquiescing to the advance of the crowd, Samuel and his countrymen huddled back against the wall.
After the initial shock of Jonah's brutal death, they drew upon the strength brought by freedoms near grasp. Recalling the words of their fallen comrade, the captives stood united. Armed with their crude weapons, they charged forth into a final draw.
Amidst the furrow and bloodshed of battle, a weary Samuel found his way through the mighty door and passed through the large guardroom to the gates of freedom.
"One breath, just one breath." Samuel spoke aloud to himself.
With lungs filled with the air of freedom, he drew a sword from his tormentor's armory and proceeded with renewed vigor to assist in the emancipation of his people.
There were only seven left to witness the final drops of blood. The slaves had overthrown their captors at long last. They did not linger to celebrate.
As Samuel carried a dying Micah through the final gate, he promised to send word of their collective valiance home to his family.
The men arrived home after many years absence to tell the tale of their uprising. The sun shone brightly upon their return, and the doors to their homes were open wide.
They were prisoners no more.
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 11:30:23 EST (#)
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