He's weeping, he is crying and the tears refuse to stop, the diseased are crying too, the blessed, the prideful, the children and women, all the same they are crying, he looks down at the tears accumulating by his feet and sees his reflection blotted and blurry, by his own tears maybe. He tries to push through the sobbing mass but his hands slip upon their wet clothes and meat, his face is soaked and the tears are so salty they burn his lips and eyes. The people slam against each other uncontrollably like creatures of night possessed, they rip and tear each other and climb into each others viscera until their bodies warp and mold together. They are scared and they are begging, and he is horrified by his weakness. The tears weigh him down, he tries to stand up but they drag him down at every turn, he's fallen to his knees in front of this visage of gore, whilst to the ground he sees a speck of light shining through the horde, and he can almost make out the face of a man smiling at him, sneering at him actually, but right as he is about to make out the face of this man, it's too late. The water is drowning him now, he thrashes in the water until he's completely submerged in the water. He tries to breathe but all he tastes is copper in his throat, he doesn't understand why he tastes metal, until he realizes that it's not just tears anymore, there's blood now too, tears and blood.
An old man wakes up in a cold sweat, still bound by the same chains that have held his now frail wrists for 26 years, he looks to his left and sees a clandestine metal door, about 4 inches wide and 3 inches tall, and curses as he realizes he slept through dinner time. Just as he's nearly finished berating himself, a lone voice at the opposite end of the room perks his attention.
"About time you woke up you wee bastard."
A man across from him says with a toothless smile painted on his face. His name is Elios Faraway.
"Here, take it, you're lucky I didn't take it all for myself, s'if they want us to die with how little they feed us here."
Elios slides a small tray across to the man, on the tray is what appears to be a greyish turkey leg, the color of the meat would be shocking if it wasn't how all the food looked like here. The man grimaced for a moment and then smiled at the tray.
"You still asleep or somethin'? Wipe that look off your face and eat Allen!"
Allen chuckles for a moment and spouts.
"You're one to talk about looks you toothless old coot."
"At least I never lost my figure you wrinkled bastard!"
Elios jokes.
The pair burst into laughter for 4 minutes before coming to a pause, a dark look envelopes Elios for a second before it disappears into his usual energetic face. Allen looks at him for a moment.
I wish I had the luxury of wondering why he made such a face but the answer to this mystery was one every prisoner of Greenland knew. It's been around 15 odd years since Elios came to this place, he came 8 years after I did, and since then his whole life was turned upside down.
Deep in thought, Allen grumbles for a little before taking a bite of his food, the meat is of an unsatisfactory taste and texture but the prisoners here only get one meal a day so Allen pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind and continues stuffing his face.
After finishing his meal, Allen stands up and stretches before picking up the clay cup next to him and walking to the water pipe. He twisted the nozzle and made sure to only put as much water as he thought he needed, there's a weekly ration on the water in this prison, so if you waste too much, any prisoner can go days without water, leading to a steep casualty rate in this prison. He sips a bit of the water before groggily sitting back down, wincing in pain as the shackles press against his skin, Allen sighs before speaking.
"What did the bastard do anyways?"
Elios looks up for a moment.
"Whadduya mean?"
He spits out.
"The chains you fool, they've been on longer than usual, I know you have a little pull around this quadrant, so tell me of the poor soul who dared anger the Sword of Caelum."
The chains haven't been released for at least three weeks at this point, my skin is already raw from how they've been digging into my ankles and wrists.
"Ah! The sorry fellow goes by the name of Frederick Philaven, he's on row for execution this coming Wednesday for crimes of double heresy, attempted assault on a Caelum peace officer, and a plot to assassinate the current warden of Greenland."
Not a bad idea on his part, he would've done well for the Intercepters.
The Planetary Correctional Facility of Rehabilitation (P.C.F.O.R) or the 'Greenland Gulag' as the occupants of said facility moniker it, is a facility that is on the outside portrayed as a place where people who have committed crimes against the Caelum (divine beings) are sent to repent and ultimately be released after shown a certain level of reverence towards these beings, although the validity of that claim is one that has yet to be seen, even the most devoted in this prison have been executed for lesser crimes within the confines. The prison is separated into 10 quadrants, the first quadrant is where those who have committed the less heinous crimes against the Caelum (crimes like heresy, blasphemy, and more speech related crimes will land you here, ascending in order of heinous crimes until the 10th, where those considered the most heinous of offenders are kept. Elios and Allen are in the 8th ward of this prison, Allen was originally in the 9th level but due to good behavior he was sent to the 8th with Elios.
Elios continues.
"I even heard that one of the Caelum themselves are coming here to execute him, a show of divine power I suppose."
Allen's eyes widen.
"The Caelum?" Allen says.
"That's just hearsay though, you know the antics of the wretches in this quadrant."
Elios spouts. Allen simply cannot believe this.
"There's never been such a story of them directly dishing out judgement since they locked you and yours away two decades ago."
Then for a moment there's silence, and Allen is sitting with his head held down.
"I'm sorry, I didn-"
Before Elios can continue.
"Don't worry." Allen says with a smile.
"I'm just an old man with too many thoughts, no need for you to worry about things that happened while you were still a boy."
Elios starts to speak and then stops, thinking better of it. No more words need to be said tonight. No words are enough to bring back what Allen Farath has lost, who he was doesn't matter anymore, all he is now is a frail old man. Allen looks at his reflection in the water cup, the ripple in it clouds his visage but not as much as in the dream he had, he stills sees himself for who he is, just an old grey fogey who lives nowhere but the past.
A few hours later dawn breaks, and it is time for the Allen and Elios to earn their keep.
"Arms up heretics!"