Seven Deadly Sons

Melanie. (36)

I wake in the dark of my cell, again.

I am a creature of the dark. Melanie means darkness. Perhaps I have always belonged here, in the dark, am mistress of it. Am a slave to it, to him or her or it.

I have been crying for what feels like hours. Perhaps it has been days, they have forgotten to see if I completed the task. The impossible task.

How does one collect liquid with a bowl of holes?

An impossible question.

I remember everything, oddly. I remember my spotty vision, the looks and leers and grabs and fondles. The amount of places men and women alike touched me and shouldn't have.

Though, they aren't really women and men, are they?

Worst than that, more than that; I remember I was helped by one of them, to an isolated cell. I dont remember after that, I like to hope I just went to sleep. I did just go to sleep. Definitely, certainly. Doubtlessly.

Be gentle with yourself. Thats what he said, the queens pet; whom I have aptly named lapdog.

I am not crying now, not even weeping. Thats the polite way to say it. It was mostly in my sleep, anyway, where I couldn't control it. Ameline would not cry.

So neither will I.

Ive been staring at the sieve too now for what feels like a long time. Its infuriating, it makes me furious. Perhaps I am still delusional, these emotions keeps coming to me hard and fast. I feel sick still, fragile.

Sieve with water, sieve with wine, sieve with any liquid at all...

I needed to fill a whole store of estate wine. I did not even know how much wine that was.

It appears my neighbours, other cellmates of mine, has heard of my predicament too.

Though, to them, it is infinitely hilarious. The queen has given this urchin an impossible task! Howls, real ones; not metaphorical, and laughs and also some choking — perhaps on their own sick at my circumstances? I do feel similar — all echoing my pacing across the cupboard sized space. Even the attic had more space that this; if not upwards certainly width-wise.

In frustration, I punch one of the walls dividing my cell from another. The action is met by hissing laughter — again, hissing the realest sense — and echoing cackles.

My stomach growled back, sending my neighbours into further hysterics.

In response, I kick another wall at random - only to find it gives. Had I suddenly gained insurmountable strength, the strength to break down a wall?

Thoughts of escape were immediate, and yet... no. There was simply a brick loose from its neighbours, sat oddly and so obvious it was comical I had not seen it sooner.

Having nothing better to do, I spent some time shuffling the slab about to see if I could get it moving.

After some time, the brick came loose, with my cut fingers bleeding again, and behind it was — nothing. Nothing at all.

Well, not nothing at all, that was a heavy over-exaggeration. It was just too dark for me too see, this far from the eerie lights at the entrance to the cell.

Laying flat on my stomach, the bones of my ribs scraping against the uneven floor, I reached as far back as I could and found it went much further than I had originally suspected.

I knew I should be trying to solve the second of riddles I had been given, but the option to procrastinate however possible was just too tempting to resist.

Thoughts immediately resurged of escape; of raging myself through this gap to wherever it led - possibly the outside world - and finding my way home... or even hiding inside this space until a guard inevitably came to check on me, found me missing and raised the alarm - all the while leaving the cell unlocked... but no. Even emaciated my ribcage was much to wide to fit inside here, even a small child would struggle.

My fingers brushed against something cold, and not damp. Immediately marking it as something not made of stone, perhaps metal? A knife?

No. A tray, like one the posher folk in Fowey would have their food and drink delivered upon. Still strong enough to be a weapon though...

I dragged the heavy thing out, and heard it singing back. Well, not quite singing at all really, but the tapping of other metal objects on top of it.

Then, it hit me. Not literally, but it was so powerful it may as well have been real.

The smell of food!

Starved, I dragged it out as quickly as I possibly could. Though cold, it was definitely edible - and even if it wasn't I was willing to test my stomachs resolve. Ælfin food or not, I was inhaling it faster than ever before.

What felt like a pie, or a pasty of some sort — pastry wrapped around a full meal of meat, potatoes and vegetables — was already half eaten by the time I realised there was water. I practically breathed it in, all at once.

Then unbidden another question interrupted; when will I next eat? And also — who left this here? I had no recollection. It was even likely it had been here since the cells last inhabitant, who may well have been fed and watered.

But it tasted fresh? Or did it? Perhaps I was hallucinating and it was covered in mould that would soon make me ill. no matter, too late anyway. I had eaten it all. And it wasn't enough, but it would suffice.

Already I felt almost cleared — as if the world had somewhat come back into focus.

The sieve.

I started to work and plan; asked myself questions. Would water go straight through the holes? Yes, it would. Is that an unquestionable fact? Yes.

What can hold water? Solid objects. Stone, leaves, wood...

I went on like this for some time. I imagined the sun rising and peaking and setting again, so many times what I forgot what the sun even looked like. Did they even have a sun here? Had I ever seen it?