From my Oubliette .... (page 4)

Wholly

I think we all started out trying to find our Creator and his message for us, hoping a purpose for living would be revealed. It would be a shame if we could not admit we were deceived, misdirected and imprisoned by our own innocence. Sometimes, the hardest lessons in life to learn are the ones that challenge our pride. That inner need to "know" our Creator must still be there, somewhere inside you. He can be found by anyone willing to strive in their search for him. He will reveal himself to you and then you will be grateful for his mercy. If you do not yearn for him, you will never recover your innocence but will instead live the remainder of your life being deceived. I pray for all of you, continuously, that your hearts may soften and you will search with vigor for his Truth, Wisdom, Strength and Love.

cofty

Thus endeth today's sermon by the Right Reverend Wholly

Wholly

Hi Cofty, I just read your intro thread so I understand your comment better now.

thecrushed

Tis such sweet sorrow. Very heartfelt and beautiful. I know your pain because it is thine too. Sometimes pain is what reminds us we are alive.

thecrushed

Listen to Trent reznors song called hurt.

Oubliette

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I HAVE NOTHING BUT A SCRATCH ON A STONE WALL TO MARK THE PASSING OF ANOTHER DAY OF MY LIFE

It's easy to lose track of time when one is imprisoned. Each morning I see the darkness begin to fade and give way to light; each evening I watch the light turn into darkness. My one window to the outside faces north and so I can never directly see either the sun or the moon. All light is indirect, difused. I long to feel the rays of the summer sun on my face or the gaze at the marias on the moon, but I cannot. Even the memory of the Mare Tranquillitatis brings me some small comfort. To be tranquil, at peace, what a lovely thought.

Though I can never see these celestial bodies, I can still use their passing to count the days of my confinement. It is the only means I have to keep track of the time.

I have meticulously marked off each day that I have been in this place: One thousand nine hundred and fourteen days.

I have tried to take into account the possiblity of losing time due to delirium. There were many days and nights when I was first thrown into this hell-hole that are lost to me, they are only a blur. I seem to recall being in a deep sleep, a semi-comatose state wherein I may have lost days, if not weeks or more, of time.

There is no reliable way I can reconcile that with the date. I have no calendar or independent means to verify when it is. I only know my personal calculations made by the crudest of methods: a mark scratched on the stone wall. Fortunately, there is a great deal of stone here so I will not run out of room for my marking anytime soon. As far as I can tell, I've been here about five and 1/4 years. That unfortunately seems about right.

As I mentioned before, the moon was very bright a week ago. I was always an amateur student of astronomy. If I am right, then that would have been the first full moon after the vernal equinox. It must be Spring.

I always loved the Spring: a time of rebirth and renewal. In here it is only a reminder of what I have lost.

Those of you that have heard my tappings and responded help me to keep my mind off of my misery and think of things more worthy. Even here, there is much I can learn. I can learn about myself. I can reflect on what might have been. I can try to learn from my successes and my mistakes. I might even perhaps be so bold so as to plan an escape!

Is escape possible? Dare I even think of it? Am I only setting myself for the disappointment of more false hope? That was my overriding cause for anger with the priests: they gave us all false hope!

They lied to us and then when we found them out the cast us away ....

My mind and heart have nearly been broken by the experience. I'm not sure if I can take it again. If I am to hope again, I need my hope to be on something secure, on something real, on something that does not change.

- - - - - - - - - -

You who have written to me are my abbé Faria, my priest. I could not trust the priest that sent me here. How can I be sure that I can trust you?

What choice do I have? No doubt you are here for the same reasons that I am.

Help me learn what I need to learn. Help me to see what I do not want to see, but must.

Help me to acquire the tools necessary to escape this place and the knowledge needed to use them when I have made my escape.

Show me the way, where is the hidden treasure?

And once I have made my way from here, teach me what I need to exact my revenge and perhaps even free my loved ones!

Dare I dream? Dare I hope?

I do.

perfect1

Hi Weebles. Just wanted to knock on your dark dungeon door and pass you some late summer cherries through the chinks between the stones.

Oubliette

Umm, those cherries were delicious. Thanks, they were perfect, just like you!

P1, You have a PM.

From my Oubliette ....

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