The Wall, the beach, and Solitary

Day 1: Well, they finally caught me. I can’t honestly say I’m surprised. The pillaging was so bad last night. Fire. Fire everywhere. Screaming, crying, shards of wood and metal with every step you took. The fire crisped my fingertips. Between pain and infection, this is vulnerability. I was prepared, though, so I had my emergency kit attached to my belt. I have antiseptic cream and bandages. Hopefully, I have a delayed Summon so that my fingers can heal. I cannot show Them weakness. 

   My cell is small, as I imagined. Cement floors, cement walls, windowless door cemented shut. I have a small bed but no blankets. There is no bathroom but there is a bucket. Dried rations and water, but not much. I know what to do. Conserve. My math tells me that, based off my body weight when I entered the cell, I have enough rations for 352 days of the Minimalism Regimen. The average length till being Summoned is much shorter than that so I’ll choose to maintain my energy using the Energy Regimen. Its always better to be stronger. I cannot show Them weakness. If I follow the Energy Regimen, I have enough rations for 240 days. I am determined to remain strong. This is what we prepare for. 

    If anyone else in my Pod made it, I don’t know. I am in solitary, which is not ideal but it’s what I will have to make do with. I wanted to be proactive, so I have already begun my Meditations. I imagined my happy place. It’s the beach. Warm sand between my toes, rippling blue waters fluting the melody of waves busy folding themselves on top of each other, like lovers entangled in a messy romance. They make each other bigger, better, adding power to their force, but it comes with chaos, exhibited by the frothing bubbles along their lips. Oh, how I miss the beach. I will keep that image sacred in my mind for the days to come. It will bring me peace and strength. I will also write in my journal every thirty days. This will help keep the time and gives me something to look forward to. This is what I have prepared for. I am ready. 

Day 31: It’s been thirty days in solitary. My cell is no bigger, my supplies are no more abundant, but I feel great. I figure, this whole gig can’t go on for too long, right? Eventually, I will be Summoned. I will go forth through the Test and I will make it to the other side. I will be with civilization again, and this is only if I am not rescued sooner. People have been rescued from solitary before, it’s not unheard of. My Pod was one of the strongest there was. I am confident we had survivors, I am confident they are working to rescue me as we speak. Our bond is stronger than any cement walls.

    My energy is fortress-like, I have been following the Energy Regimen diligently. I have been exercising. Push-ups, sit-ups, jogging in place. I cannot let my muscles atrophy. For the comedy of it all, let’s say I don’t get rescued and I do get Summoned. I will pass my Test with flying colors because I am energized, nourished, and physically fit. This is hardly even a challenge, this is simple stuff. This is breakfast in bed, a walk in the park.

    I have been keeping up with my Meditations. The beach stays vivid in my mind and I am confident I will be there again soon. I smell the salty air and the musty scent of sea creatures. I hear the seagulls chirping rhythmically. The warm sun bathing my body, wrapping it in a golden hug. Internally, I feel peace. The reprieve of my beach is unbeatable. I will be there again soon because I will be rescued. 

Day 61: It’s day sixty-one. My soul feels as grey and as heavy as my cement walls. Look at me, calling them my cement walls as if I own them, but that’s because I do. This stuff is mine now. This is my room, these are my rations. These are no longer horrible gifts, they are my possessions. This is my life. Each day becomes more dreary than the one before, as if I were caught in a perpetual rainstorm. I have begun to notice how bland my rations are. No seasoning, no flavoring. I have noticed how cold I am at night with no blankets. I have noticed the pain in my neck from sleeping without a pillow. I have continued my workouts in order to maintain my physical fitness, but I find no joy in them anymore.

    I thought of the beach and cried yesterday. The tears fell like waterfalls, I couldn’t even finish my Meditations. I have cried before but not like that. I was worried I would dehydrate. I had to take an extra sip of water which worried me about my rations. The beach was so beautiful. It was more than just pleasant scenery. It was freedom, fresh air, ease. It was a preacher to my dark soul, which feels inundated with fear and sin and sadness. I became a light feather on that beach, which felt so nice until I stopped believing in it. That’s when the waterfall tears came. I will continue to Meditate because that’s what I was taught to do, but I don’t know if I can think of the beach again. 

Day 91: It is day ninety-one of solitary confinement. I am hopeful that I will be Summoned soon, if only for the chance to interact with another human being, even if that being is evil. I caught myself talking to one of my cement walls the other day, the one directly across from the windowless door that’s been cemented shut. It’s funny because at first I hated these walls, now I talk to them as though they’re my friends. The wall didn’t have much to say in return but I could tell that he was listening. He was friendly and endearing, despite my initial harsh judgements. 

    I told the wall about the beach. He liked the beach very much and said he wanted to go there with me one day. I told him he could go if he would just help me get out of solitary. He said he would try but the best he could offer is a faceless, lifeless sheet of concrete to hold conversation with. I told him that was enough. I explained to him about the messy lover waves and the warm sand and the sea creature scents and the seagull noises. I told him the sun would hug him tightly, making him feel loved. He liked that idea. He said that as a concrete wall, he was often misjudged as cold-hearted and undeserving of love. Ashamed, I told him that I had made the same judgements but that I had since changed my mind. This made him sad then happy. 

    I am anxious to see my Pod again. Perhaps they will still come rescue me, perhaps not. At this point, I will take anybody. Any Pod, any evil human being, even an animal if it wishes. I just need life and conversation and eyes. I need to see another pair of eyes. 

Day 121: Day one-hundred-twenty and I feel great! I am at peace. I have had weak moments but I’ve solidified a routine which gives me purpose and passes the time. I wake up and workout, then I have my first allotment of rations, next I Meditate for an hour, take two-hundred laps around my cell, then I workout again, second allotment of rations, and finally it’s back to sleep. My energy is in its steady-state, meaning I am tired. This is good because I can sleep for up to fifteen hours at a time. Nothing can make the days go by as fast as that! 

    I love sleep because I dream of the beach, which is better than Meditation. During Meditation, I can think about the beach and I can elicit each of my senses to remind me of that sacred place, but I am not there and I know that. In my dreams, however, I am there at the beach, running through the waves, rolling in the sand. A seagull lands on my shoulder, a sand crab prances over my toes. Sometimes there are other human beings at the beach, too, and we talk. It’s small talk mostly but it’s friendly and reassuring. It’s the type of small talk that people have when their biggest stressor is deciding what to cook for dinner. How’s your day? Going great and yours? Oh, it’s going well. What are you doing for the rest of the day? Reading, walking the beach, dinner with friends. Not sure what I’m going to cook but I’ll figure it out! What magnificent conversations. This is why I try to sleep as much as possible, the world is better there. While my little solitary life is not much, it’s enough and will continue to be enough until I am Summoned. Waiting for the day...

Day 151: It’s day one-hundred-fifty-one and I’ve yet to be Summoned. What could possibly be taking so long!? The Energy Regimen way overestimates the average length to be Summoned, I should have been called by now. Why haven’t I been called? Do they not want me? Will I be stuck in here forever? Are they preparing some sort of super difficult Test for me? At first, the thought of the Test was driving me crazy, now the thought of not being called for the Test is what’s driving me crazy. 

    Worse, still, is the complacency that comes with not being called. I have been slacking on my workouts and wavering in my ration regimen because it feels endless! The wait is so cruel. No clock, no window to know whether it’s night or day. I have my timer from my emergency kit and that is how I have been keeping track but it’s minute-counting has come to feel nonsensical. 231,840 minutes. Does that even mean anything anymore? 

    Sometimes, the wall tells me people are coming, so I listen for voices in a twisted, eager type of way. But people don’t come. The wall lies. I have been trying to meditate but it’s hard to think of the beach when you can’t take your mind off why you haven’t been Summoned yet. We haven’t found a pattern for Summons, we just know that they happen and an average length for when it happens. There is no obvious correlation between the length of confinement and the nature of the Summon. I try to think of the pattern of waves because that makes sense and I need something to make sense. Waves are orderly, one after the other, gently lapping the surface of the ocean. I try to think of the ridges in the sand. Minute, rolling hills. Not always patterned, but reliable. The next sand bump comes, you can count on that. Will my Summon ever come? Will I be in here forever? 

Day 181: Day one-hundred-eighty-one and I’m violently ill. I’m not sure if it’s the bathroom bucket or my body attacking itself, but I am so sick. I have had chills for two days, shaking throughout the whole night. I threw up my rations so I stopped taking them. I cannot waste food and water like that. I have been drifting in and out of sleep for hours now, delirious from both illness and malnourishment. I have not worked out nor Meditated. I don’t want the beach to see me like this. The wall keeps checking in on me but he says he can’t help. I understand. 

    As much as I want to be Summoned in order to get out of this place, I am hoping it won’t be until after I get better. I absolutely would not pass the Test in this condition. But at this point, so lonely, so sick, perhaps a quick ending is my best option. Who knows what else there is in store? 

Day 210: Day two-hundred-ten. I was sick for eleven days. Weak for many more. I am beginning to feel my strength coming back, and the wall says I look stronger, too. I know he’s just being nice, but it makes me feel confident. My spirits lifted once my illness began to subside. I have resumed eating and workouts, as well as walking laps around my cell. I lost a lot of progress due to my illness and I must gain it back before I get Summoned, if I ever do...

    I am becoming increasingly worried about my rations. They were meant to last for 240 days, but my sickness allowed me a couple extra to spare. But still, they are waning. Surely, I must be Summoned soon. At any rate, I’ve implemented Phase 1 of the Drastic Measure in order to preserve them for longer. Same serving size but only once a day, not twice. To counterbalance the food reduction, I have increased my sleeping hours. I am up to 20 hours on a good night. When I can’t sleep, I just lay there so that I don’t waste energy. I think about the beach. 

    The wall just told me people were coming, I must go and prepare! 

Day 240: Its day two-hundred-forty. People did not come. Today was supposed to be the last day of my rations but thanks to Phase 1 of the Drastic Measure, I have 30 more days. That being said, I’ve implemented Phase 2 as well. I have now cut my rations in half and, once again, increased my sleeping time. I aim for 22 hours of sleep but the hunger pains often wake me up. I cannot lie, I am weak. I am malnourished, I have not been working out because I don’t want to waste energy. I try to walk laps around my cell when I am awake but even those are slow and tired. 

    The thought has crossed my mind that perhaps I cut my rations altogether and I go to sleep and hibernate for as long as I can. Either I’m Summoned or I’m called home to a higher place. At this point, I will take either. I try not to be emotional about the proposition, and I talk to the wall to try and get his thoughts, he’s quiet as usual. This is what my life is, I cannot change it. So, I make my choice. Go on for as long as I can, pray to pass the Test once I’m Summoned. Or, I go to sleep and let fate take whatever course it chooses. Even if not emotional, it’s a tough decision. Both will be physically painful, and every part of me wants to hold onto the thought of returning to the beach. I do desperately want to run barefoot through the sand, wash myself clean of this despair in the salty water. I want to build sandcastles while my skin bakes under that star we call the sun. Is it so bad to want that? Even if I never receive it? Is it foolish to hang on to that dream?  

Day 270: Cruel

Day 300: Day three-hundred.  

Day 330: Day three-hundred-thirty-three. I have officially run out of rations. I am sleeping 23 hours a day, waking only for a sip of water and a morsel of rations. But now the rations are no longer, meaning I have no reason to wake. It seems the evil human beings have forgotten about me. Why would they want to Summon me now? Look at what I have become, a pale sheet in the wind. No muscle, no brain power. I said my goodbyes to the wall just moments ago. We cried a lot. I told him to go the beach without me one day, and he promised he would. It’s now that I close my eyes for my final slumber. Life is hard, something I’ve always known, but have reconfirmed to be true throughout the tribulations of solitary confinement. Don’t make life more difficult than it already is by adding hate and violence. Be good, be kind, enjoy what you have. One day, you will have no rations left and you’ll prepare to close your eyes one last time. I hope on that day, that the dreams that follow your last act are dreams of you on your beach. Easy and comfortable. 

Day 365: It’s day three-hundred-sixty-five and I’m a little late to journal because my walls were broken open!! I was not summoned, there was no Test. A new regime has taken over. They’ve been in power for seven months, they had no idea about my cell! They’ve walked past it every day for seven months. No idea a human being was inside the four cement walls. At first I laughed madly, then I cried, then I sat empty. Bewildered. Angry. Happy. All of the above. I prepared for a year to take the Test and then I prepared for my last slumber, all the while a happy world full of good was clamoring around me. They laughed and communed and danced and I sat half-alive on a blanket-less bed in a windowless room, counting the minutes I had been my only human companion. The irony is not lost on me, neither is the humor, the rage, the sadness. Today they asked me where I wanted to go now that I was free. At first, my mind went to the beach. But then I realized I was sick of the beach. I had been living there for a whole year and I couldn’t stand it for another second. Instead, I grabbed my emergency kit, a small piece of the wall that had crumbled when they broke open my cell, and I headed toward the mountains.