I was in a small room. My vision was blurred and I couldn’t hear a thing. My head felt like a ton of bricks and there was a dreadful smell to the place. My vision slowly returned. I sat up and looked around. The place was a mess. The smell was coming from all the old food scraps and rotting parchment that had gotten damp. There was a set of shelves on one of the wall containing a heap of scrolls in no particular order. Old parchments and used ink blocks were scattered on the desk sitting under a window high in the wall that had been barred some years ago. The walls were made of some kind of dark stone and the door was made of brass. It gave the room a scary look. I didn’t think I would be getting out too easily.
The door ground open with a noise that seemed to split my head in two. An elderly woman poked her head in. When she saw I was awake she came in with a pitcher of water two yew bowls, a rag and a clean bandage. She came over, put what she held on the ground, knelt and started to undo something from around my head. When she put it in one of the yew bowls I saw it was a bloody bandage. I must have cut my head when I fell. She poured the water from the pitcher into the other bowl, folded the rag and began to clean my forehead. The water was icy cold and stung.
When this had been done she left without applying the other bandage. The cut must have healed. The odd thing was she hadn’t closed the door. I might be able to get out of here easier than I thought. It was only then that I noticed my bag and sword propped up against the end of the bed. I checked its contents. Nothing was missing other than the stone and sling shot. Feeling worn out and emotionally overwelmed I grabbed my tattered, old teddy bear and huddled in the corner of the bed wondering when, if ever, I’d see my father again. I ended up drifting into a restless sleep.