Saturday, July 10, 2004
Reprieve
Reprieve
Everything was gray in Butch’s world. He looked around his tiny cell for what seemed like the ten-thousandth time. No way out.
The smell! It was completely overpowering. He sensed the deaths of many others who had occupied this same, too small place.
Death row. He knew it, even though he could not understand the language of the people who were his keepers. There was no mistaking it. Every day since his arrival in this bleaker than bleak place he heard the terrible wailing of the others who shared his plight. Depression set in as soon as he arrived. At first his mind raced with thoughts of escape. He clawed futilely at the concrete floor. As each day passed, resignation grew.
He had done nothing wrong! When he was captured, all he was doing was walking down the street! Out of nowhere, men in uniform drove up in a large black and white truck. A chain was put around his neck and he was dragged by the throat to the truck and thrown into the back, then driven to this hellhole.
Butch was stripped of freedom and dignity. Internment without trial. He was treated like he was some kind of terrorist, but he was innocent! Why?! He was as mystified by his circumstances as he was depressed by them.
The food was terrible. Dehydrated meat mixed with corn meal, accompanied by not enough water. Tasteless and barely enough nutrition to sustain him. He grew weaker by the day.
The deadly monotony was broken occasionally by people who would walk by his cell and look at him and mutter in their incomprehensible language. In addition, once a day, the men in uniform came and dragged him out of his cell by the chain around his neck. He was then taken to an exercise yard to walk for twenty minutes or so. He knew the end was near.
A man, a woman and a child who appeared to be their young daughter came and looked into his cell. There was an indescribable aura of warmth about them that Butch felt, but could not describe.
A uniformed guard opened his cell and grabbed the chain. He handed the chain to the man, who in turn handed it to the girl. She spoke to Butch in her strange language as though he could understand. She had a reassuring tone that came through loud and clear.
Butch jumped up with excitement, licking her face and wagging his tail uncontrollably. He was saved.
Everything was gray in Butch’s world. He looked around his tiny cell for what seemed like the ten-thousandth time. No way out.
The smell! It was completely overpowering. He sensed the deaths of many others who had occupied this same, too small place.
Death row. He knew it, even though he could not understand the language of the people who were his keepers. There was no mistaking it. Every day since his arrival in this bleaker than bleak place he heard the terrible wailing of the others who shared his plight. Depression set in as soon as he arrived. At first his mind raced with thoughts of escape. He clawed futilely at the concrete floor. As each day passed, resignation grew.
He had done nothing wrong! When he was captured, all he was doing was walking down the street! Out of nowhere, men in uniform drove up in a large black and white truck. A chain was put around his neck and he was dragged by the throat to the truck and thrown into the back, then driven to this hellhole.
Butch was stripped of freedom and dignity. Internment without trial. He was treated like he was some kind of terrorist, but he was innocent! Why?! He was as mystified by his circumstances as he was depressed by them.
The food was terrible. Dehydrated meat mixed with corn meal, accompanied by not enough water. Tasteless and barely enough nutrition to sustain him. He grew weaker by the day.
The deadly monotony was broken occasionally by people who would walk by his cell and look at him and mutter in their incomprehensible language. In addition, once a day, the men in uniform came and dragged him out of his cell by the chain around his neck. He was then taken to an exercise yard to walk for twenty minutes or so. He knew the end was near.
A man, a woman and a child who appeared to be their young daughter came and looked into his cell. There was an indescribable aura of warmth about them that Butch felt, but could not describe.
A uniformed guard opened his cell and grabbed the chain. He handed the chain to the man, who in turn handed it to the girl. She spoke to Butch in her strange language as though he could understand. She had a reassuring tone that came through loud and clear.
Butch jumped up with excitement, licking her face and wagging his tail uncontrollably. He was saved.
