O Key of David, and sceptre of the house of Israel; who openest, and none closeth; who closest and none openeth: Come and draw out the convict from the prison-house who sitteth in darkness and the shadow of Death.
O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
There is very little light in the gaol, just a tiny little window (barred of course) up in the top of the room which casts just a solitary cold white beam onto the filthy wall. As the day moves on, so the light traces its way across the wall, picking out the mould-covered bricks that drizzle water, the spiders' webs hanging with the corpses of long dead cockroaches and the odd slug or snail oozing its way across the wall in a vain hunt for any greenery.
On the floor of the prison, Victor sits forgotten, surrounded by rotten straw, a tattered sheet and, regrettably, his own waste. He sits waiting, stinking; his hair and beard long grown, his clothes barely possessing the integrity to cover his emaciated frame. He sits in pain as his teeth rot, his feet rot and his belly rots, and he longs for release.
There is a clatter, and a plate filled with good bread and a bowl of a good wine are pushed towards him. Victor's eyes light up - feeding time! He grabs the bread, hungrily gnawing at it - it is gone in seconds. The wine is gone in one long gulp.
"Oh Victor," says the voice outside the door. "How long are you going to be in there? It seems like centuries, doesn't it? How long before you feel the breath of the air on your face, the sight of the Sun, the company of good folk? Do you even remember why you're here?"
Victor scurries back to his filthy corner and refuses to move at the sound of the voice.
"Oh Victor, has your memory gone completely? Do you not remember that man with the Key? How he unlocked the door, gave you food and drink, bathed your wounds, spoke words of comfort to you before he left? Look around you, Victor, are you really better off since his visit?
Look carefully Victor. Can't you see it? When that man left you, he left the door open. You have always been free to leave. All you have to do is head for the door, walking, running, crawling, in whatever way you can. Why have you remained there all this time?"
Victor puts his filthy hands with their broken nails to his ears to block out his voice, and settles down to sleep as the light from the window finally goes out.
No comments:
Post a Comment