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Yukimura · 08-13-2007, 06:19 PM

The man thanked the guard in a raspy voice as his food cooled on the floor. He didn't even bother trying to eat the bread anymore, throwing it out between the rusted old bars. Though his food came every 8 hours, it had been days since he had a drink. He placed his hand over the lid of his half-glass of water, and held it up next to the window. Pulling his fingers away ever-so-slightly, he allowed the water to drip down from the top of the bars. it ran down slowly, picking up speed as more water came onto them. The man blew through stinging chapped lips onto the bars. He tasted blood.

About a two months ago, he had noticed the bars rusted around the bottom. With some contempt he judged them to be solid iron, and decided it to be a mistake of the designer. It's structure would be greatly compramised if rusted. However, no matter how hard he pulled, pushed, hit, the bars would not move. He began to decide that it had been a foolhearty dream to think he could break them, but would not give up. One way or another, he was getting out of here...

So for the past four days he had not just poured some, but all of his water portion every meal over the bars, blowing to speed its evaporation. His was sure his escape was inevitable if he continued in this fashion. He felt the last of the water drip past his fingers, and rubbed them up and down the bars, blowing all the while, though his breath grew heavy.

A few minutes passed, and the water dried. There was little to see on the bars now save for rust. He placed one hand and pushed. He dug his feet into the floor and pushed with all his might. He pulled, he pushed, he punched 'til his knuckles once again bled, knowing it would do no good. He threw himself at it, though his body barely stood. Tears would have been falling down his cheeks if he had them to cry. Desparate, he climbed, holding a single bar with both hands, pushing off the wall with his feet. His body yelled in pain for him to quit, but he would not. He forced out everything he had, knowing it was hopeless.

*Clank.* *THUD.*

He looked in awe at the rusted bar that lay in his hand. He smiled faintly knowing there were just two more to go until he once again breathed free air. He moved to get back up, but found he could not. The room swirled around him. He saw a white cloud creeping in from the edges of his vision. He laughed a weak, raspy, terrible laugh as the reality of his situation set in on him. He made his escape as the last tear he would ever cry dripped slowly down his cheek.

08-13-2007, 06:19 PM	#5 (permalink)
Yukimura Tilted Location: At a computer, obviously.	The man thanked the guard in a raspy voice as his food cooled on the floor. He didn't even bother trying to eat the bread anymore, throwing it out between the rusted old bars. Though his food came every 8 hours, it had been days since he had a drink. He placed his hand over the lid of his half-glass of water, and held it up next to the window. Pulling his fingers away ever-so-slightly, he allowed the water to drip down from the top of the bars. it ran down slowly, picking up speed as more water came onto them. The man blew through stinging chapped lips onto the bars. He tasted blood. About a two months ago, he had noticed the bars rusted around the bottom. With some contempt he judged them to be solid iron, and decided it to be a mistake of the designer. It's structure would be greatly compramised if rusted. However, no matter how hard he pulled, pushed, hit, the bars would not move. He began to decide that it had been a foolhearty dream to think he could break them, but would not give up. One way or another, he was getting out of here... So for the past four days he had not just poured some, but all of his water portion every meal over the bars, blowing to speed its evaporation. His was sure his escape was inevitable if he continued in this fashion. He felt the last of the water drip past his fingers, and rubbed them up and down the bars, blowing all the while, though his breath grew heavy. A few minutes passed, and the water dried. There was little to see on the bars now save for rust. He placed one hand and pushed. He dug his feet into the floor and pushed with all his might. He pulled, he pushed, he punched 'til his knuckles once again bled, knowing it would do no good. He threw himself at it, though his body barely stood. Tears would have been falling down his cheeks if he had them to cry. Desparate, he climbed, holding a single bar with both hands, pushing off the wall with his feet. His body yelled in pain for him to quit, but he would not. He forced out everything he had, knowing it was hopeless. Clank. THUD. He looked in awe at the rusted bar that lay in his hand. He smiled faintly knowing there were just two more to go until he once again breathed free air. He moved to get back up, but found he could not. The room swirled around him. He saw a white cloud creeping in from the edges of his vision. He laughed a weak, raspy, terrible laugh as the reality of his situation set in on him. He made his escape as the last tear he would ever cry dripped slowly down his cheek. __________________ Maybe the answer is in the very light reflected off our blades. Maybe that's what it means to be this creature known as samurai.