My cell had no window, no light bulb. Hallucinations:
tortured faces; a gargoyle on my chest sipping
my lungs through a straw. With a nail from my boot
I scratched help in the dirt ten thousand times – until
it clicked I was holding the key out of there. After I escaped
that first sunrise burned like acid. As the world detonated
into colour, I bit down on my tongue, tasted
freedom. Then I ran for the hills, the moors beyond,
chanting the name of everything I saw to make it
real: field… lamb… skull... crow. I hugged shadows
to begin with. By noon, I was gorging on the sun.
That first nightfall felt like loss. I swore I saw men
with torches coming through the trees to take me back.
It was mindfuckery, just insects – a miracle of fireflies.
I caught one, ate it. I needed some light on the inside.
First published in Magma