Hot Revenge Box Set 4

As it turns out, the darkness isn’t quite complete. The power light of the camera casts just enough illumination to bathe the scene in a weird green, albeit, blinking glow. Once my eyes adjust, I can see enough to manage.

Manage in this case means, seeing well enough to piss over the side into the water without falling in. Still, several hours later… I think… I’ve concluded that I truly am a prisoner. With no sense of day or night, my sense of time is already drifting.

Perhaps it’s been longer than that…

I’m not sure…

My immediate physical reaction is to sleep: the body’s age-old defence against reality. And I don’t even realise I’m drifting off until, with a start, I wake up, jerking up against a crick in the neck where I’d nodded off with my chin on my chest.

What woke me?

Movement in the dark…

On the limit of my circle of light, a pair of rats are polishing off the remains of Juliana’s

Sola’s?

…empanadas. One sits on its haunches, nibbling into a circle of pastry.

Some version of the snack can be found in every country I’ve ever visited. In India, it would be a samosa. In England, a sausage roll or cornish pasty. The Chinese would offer you a vegetable roll.

Finger food.

go. Warily, I watch them. Within a few minutes, they’ve cleared the scatter of crumbs and, nose-to-tail, vanish

has helped. My panic has dispersed

In fact, I’m hungry.

beside me on the filth-encrusted floor. I don’t want to consider what I’m sitting on. Even less what might

not quite that

Yet.

Time to think…

*****

Michael

the last barrow-load. After a dozen return trips to ‘The Heap’, I’m glowing with heat, dripping with sweat and smelling more of manure than manhood. The ground steams where the output from the stables lies scattered

should get them

only to get away

away a fragment of straw that has somehow taken root in my stubble… I

you a

rather more appealingly fragrant than

I was