Broady
Clink, clink, clink, link, ink…The sound of a needle dropping across from the jail cell where Broady was held captive. He had lost the track of the day, hour month he didn’t know the season because he’s hasn’t seen a corner of the sky in a long time. Broady wasn‘t afraid he never was one to be. He always held a noble personality and throughout his life he would always put others first. He was a brother and he could still be, but time felt like an echo for Broady, he didn’t know if any of his past would still be there of just reflected from his memory. There were some things running through his head however. Every year when he could only imagine it was Christmas he wished for a bath, a spare change of clothes a gun or a good solid bar to beat the guards with. He wanted freedom, he obviously wanted his freedom but his heart became bruised with every beating he received from the masked guards. It was never like this, when he first became prisoner he was strong and the guards knew he was. After they first opened the iron bars which he was captive Broady beat as many as he could, not caring if he lived or died. The guards didn’t kill him for they wanted him for something, a higher purpose what Broady will know nothing about until he’s told. Broady knows that a long time has passed even with no means of a calendar or a working watch. It could have been the lack of nourishment what made his hair fall out or even how he finds it difficult to lift himself anymore, but he concluded that he’s been in there for years. There was only a dim light outside his cell, and that was the only means of light he had with him. He would practice making shadow puppets to occupy his time, to occupy his mind. He had a journal which was hidden from sight, which wasn’t hard with the dimness of his cage. One which he wrote in every opportunity he had. He had found it after what he could only assume would have been his first few months or weeks. It was a complete fluke that he had found it at all for if it weren’t for his outburst of rage it would have remained behind the rock for another eternity. It belonged to an ‘ex-prisoner’; the guards would consider him a prisoner, but he knew Boady knew he was truly a slave. The journal had been written in before, the handwriting almost completely illegible other than every fourth or fifth word. He had found it underneath an un-sturdy stone which he had kicked. He wasn’t too far gone in his torture to panic when the tumbling of the stone echoed louder than a bomb, but he was afraid because he could see something beneath it. And whatever was there he didn’t want the filthy hand of the guards touching it. As he reached down for it he could hear a noise just as loud as the gravel of the stone was tearing away. It was a clink, clink, link, ink... like a pin drop. His hand was sweating; he took off his rags what was covering his decaying torso and threw them to his newly discovered hole in the wall. Right now, that hole was Broady’s sanity. Whatever it could be was coming closer to him, and then he saw it. It was a rat, and it was bizarre for Broady, he had been here for a fair while and he had not seen any sign of life other than the guards who usually would only show up to give Broady his gruel. The rat sniffed and seemed to wait for him outside of his cage, an ironic display. The thought of the rat watching him in the cage bought Broady his first smile in what felt like his second life time.
He had found a pencil with the journal and a knife. He thought he could kill the guards with it but it was too blunt and small and looked like it has only been kept safe to sharpen the pencil with. He quickly understood why his previous captive’s handwriting was so unreadable. The light was not the only problem. The journals condition was as poor as Broady’s body. The pages looked like they were an old pirates map that if found a day later would of disintegrated with time. The pencil on its tired paper made it difficult to construct a sentence together. And with the beaten body Broady now owned his wrist became a matter of immediate importance. When he had first found the journal he could barely pick the thing up. It was then that he started exercising again, it was then when his health mattered like it once did. That journal became his link to an outside world, one untouched by men in masks who bullied and lashed out for fun. Broady never drew before but he drew now, he only hoped that anything what he did would be his own protest against the guards. Then the light went out. Broady could hear loud aggressive footsteps tumbling down the corridor. There was more than one of them; he could not even see a silhouette of any of them it was total darkness. They were shouting something at him, in a tongue what he wasn’t familiar with. The Devil’s tongue he would soon call it, a language what a dark soul would use to carry out torture on the innocent. The guards entered the cell, Broady had already hidden his journal he was never foolish enough to leave it out longer than he had too. Then with sticks and with the butt end of the gun they would lunge into him and after they would light their cigarettes and use his skull as an ash tray. Broady knew he couldn’t do anything, he was outnumbered he had no weapons he had no plan, none of these and no idea how to get them; yet. Broady took the beating from the guards as it is all he could do. He laid down for what felt like hours his head bruised and bloody his muscles sore his hope fading.
Days went by whilst he recovered. Broady knew only one thing and that one thing was his new life- freedom and escape. His mind played up whilst the guards would drop gruel next to his cage, the rats scurrying towards the spilt mush what the guards dropped. The smell from his bedpan was thick and vile, and if one were to smell it would most certainly make you sick. He would draw a map of what he knew the landscape of his prison was, and where the guards would patrol and when he could best free himself. He would think of how he came here and how he was happy enough that it wasn’t anyone else. It happened in 1945, soon before the war ended. As far as Broady knew the world was still at war with Hitler and his world conquests. He knew England was winning least he hoped they were still winning. It was on his Birthday in February, a cold and frosty night the light shades were illuminating the corner narrow streets, and the moon seemed to be hanging with its own calming soul. He had been fighting for years, since he was 25, when the war started. That night he had just came from battle, and had requested the night of his 34th birthday as a day off. Broady had just met an astonishing girl called Rhiannon. Her black hair deflected the bleakness of the gloomy afternoon, her smile was the greatest smile he had ever known, and from the moment that he saw it the only thing he wanted to do was start a life with her, to see that smile, to be with her forever and throughout his mortal and afterlife. Broady had secretly borrowed some liquor from the reserve store with some sandwiches what he had made. They met in a starlit park, nearly disserted apart from the owls and the scurrying of the parks wildlife. Broady nor Rhiannon cared for the nights noises they only wished for one another. Then a loud crash was heard, so loud the nights life wildly vibrated through the air. Men came out across the park, the bushes racing towards the new couple. Guns in hand Broady jumped in front of Rhiannon, hoping that he could somehow take full capacity of their chaos. The men knocked him out cold. When he woke he found himself in the cage or a cell, it made no difference to Broady. The guards spoke for what could have been the first and only time, ‘GIRL, OK’. They said it in such a vulgar and disgusting way that all Broady wanted to do was slice the throat of his captors.
He was young when he was first caged, and he held hope that Rhiannon was safe. However having no idea what or where she went he could only hold on to a memory of what life was like. He dreamed of her nearly every dream in which he had. At least that way his dreams wouldn’t be so alone, she would always be there for him… he never saw it as a strange thing, to dream of a girl you only met once in your life. He knew from meeting her that he had met the girl he was going to wed. It was days first, then weeks, the months, then years, how many he doesn’t know. It wasn’t until a Halloween that Broady first knew how he was to be free once more. The noise of the guards fell out through the outside of his cage, the guard coughed, and dropped. He was out cold, the guards body felt like it had been in a meat locker. Broady searched the guard and found hope, a knife a good sharp knife. The silent weapon that Broady had desperately needed, as soon as he stole it from the passed out guard he quickly hid it in the hole in the wall with the beaten journal. The guards rushed down as they heard their comrade fall, they looked at Broady still in his cell, looking innocent, with what they could see of him anyway. The guards muttered something which he wasn’t able to comprehend, whatever it may have been it sounded like they didn’t intend to do anything to him.
Broady looked at the sun for the first time in sixteen years. He saw his first paper in sixteen years the date ran 24th December 1961, he was 51. He had broken out killing every guard, without knowing why they had kept him alive for so long. His face wasn’t appealing to look at his hands were raw and sore. He panicked when he saw a guard coming and as he did he jumped behind a wall. The guard looked slim and curvy, and for the first time in his life Broady managed to get a good look at one of his tormentors. He ran to the guard and knocked her out cold, he pulled off its balaclava to witness the greatest shock of his life, Rhiannon. The years he’s been enslaved went through his mind, the love he always felt, vanished like it was nothing. He lifted her, again, again, and again. His eyes full of fear and shock. After trying hopelessly he takes Rhiannon’s knife, similar to that of the one he used to escape, he tucked it to his belt. He quickly realised why he wasn’t dead, it was her keeping him alive. Out of love? Or hate?
Broady walked into the midst of the empty fields before him, trees covered with snow, his body shivering but free. It was Christmas for Broady, and all he wanted more than anything was a shower.
He had found a pencil with the journal and a knife. He thought he could kill the guards with it but it was too blunt and small and looked like it has only been kept safe to sharpen the pencil with. He quickly understood why his previous captive’s handwriting was so unreadable. The light was not the only problem. The journals condition was as poor as Broady’s body. The pages looked like they were an old pirates map that if found a day later would of disintegrated with time. The pencil on its tired paper made it difficult to construct a sentence together. And with the beaten body Broady now owned his wrist became a matter of immediate importance. When he had first found the journal he could barely pick the thing up. It was then that he started exercising again, it was then when his health mattered like it once did. That journal became his link to an outside world, one untouched by men in masks who bullied and lashed out for fun. Broady never drew before but he drew now, he only hoped that anything what he did would be his own protest against the guards. Then the light went out. Broady could hear loud aggressive footsteps tumbling down the corridor. There was more than one of them; he could not even see a silhouette of any of them it was total darkness. They were shouting something at him, in a tongue what he wasn’t familiar with. The Devil’s tongue he would soon call it, a language what a dark soul would use to carry out torture on the innocent. The guards entered the cell, Broady had already hidden his journal he was never foolish enough to leave it out longer than he had too. Then with sticks and with the butt end of the gun they would lunge into him and after they would light their cigarettes and use his skull as an ash tray. Broady knew he couldn’t do anything, he was outnumbered he had no weapons he had no plan, none of these and no idea how to get them; yet. Broady took the beating from the guards as it is all he could do. He laid down for what felt like hours his head bruised and bloody his muscles sore his hope fading.
Days went by whilst he recovered. Broady knew only one thing and that one thing was his new life- freedom and escape. His mind played up whilst the guards would drop gruel next to his cage, the rats scurrying towards the spilt mush what the guards dropped. The smell from his bedpan was thick and vile, and if one were to smell it would most certainly make you sick. He would draw a map of what he knew the landscape of his prison was, and where the guards would patrol and when he could best free himself. He would think of how he came here and how he was happy enough that it wasn’t anyone else. It happened in 1945, soon before the war ended. As far as Broady knew the world was still at war with Hitler and his world conquests. He knew England was winning least he hoped they were still winning. It was on his Birthday in February, a cold and frosty night the light shades were illuminating the corner narrow streets, and the moon seemed to be hanging with its own calming soul. He had been fighting for years, since he was 25, when the war started. That night he had just came from battle, and had requested the night of his 34th birthday as a day off. Broady had just met an astonishing girl called Rhiannon. Her black hair deflected the bleakness of the gloomy afternoon, her smile was the greatest smile he had ever known, and from the moment that he saw it the only thing he wanted to do was start a life with her, to see that smile, to be with her forever and throughout his mortal and afterlife. Broady had secretly borrowed some liquor from the reserve store with some sandwiches what he had made. They met in a starlit park, nearly disserted apart from the owls and the scurrying of the parks wildlife. Broady nor Rhiannon cared for the nights noises they only wished for one another. Then a loud crash was heard, so loud the nights life wildly vibrated through the air. Men came out across the park, the bushes racing towards the new couple. Guns in hand Broady jumped in front of Rhiannon, hoping that he could somehow take full capacity of their chaos. The men knocked him out cold. When he woke he found himself in the cage or a cell, it made no difference to Broady. The guards spoke for what could have been the first and only time, ‘GIRL, OK’. They said it in such a vulgar and disgusting way that all Broady wanted to do was slice the throat of his captors.
He was young when he was first caged, and he held hope that Rhiannon was safe. However having no idea what or where she went he could only hold on to a memory of what life was like. He dreamed of her nearly every dream in which he had. At least that way his dreams wouldn’t be so alone, she would always be there for him… he never saw it as a strange thing, to dream of a girl you only met once in your life. He knew from meeting her that he had met the girl he was going to wed. It was days first, then weeks, the months, then years, how many he doesn’t know. It wasn’t until a Halloween that Broady first knew how he was to be free once more. The noise of the guards fell out through the outside of his cage, the guard coughed, and dropped. He was out cold, the guards body felt like it had been in a meat locker. Broady searched the guard and found hope, a knife a good sharp knife. The silent weapon that Broady had desperately needed, as soon as he stole it from the passed out guard he quickly hid it in the hole in the wall with the beaten journal. The guards rushed down as they heard their comrade fall, they looked at Broady still in his cell, looking innocent, with what they could see of him anyway. The guards muttered something which he wasn’t able to comprehend, whatever it may have been it sounded like they didn’t intend to do anything to him.
Broady looked at the sun for the first time in sixteen years. He saw his first paper in sixteen years the date ran 24th December 1961, he was 51. He had broken out killing every guard, without knowing why they had kept him alive for so long. His face wasn’t appealing to look at his hands were raw and sore. He panicked when he saw a guard coming and as he did he jumped behind a wall. The guard looked slim and curvy, and for the first time in his life Broady managed to get a good look at one of his tormentors. He ran to the guard and knocked her out cold, he pulled off its balaclava to witness the greatest shock of his life, Rhiannon. The years he’s been enslaved went through his mind, the love he always felt, vanished like it was nothing. He lifted her, again, again, and again. His eyes full of fear and shock. After trying hopelessly he takes Rhiannon’s knife, similar to that of the one he used to escape, he tucked it to his belt. He quickly realised why he wasn’t dead, it was her keeping him alive. Out of love? Or hate?
Broady walked into the midst of the empty fields before him, trees covered with snow, his body shivering but free. It was Christmas for Broady, and all he wanted more than anything was a shower.
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