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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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300 Letters - 74. Letter 73 (Ok, so I met a guy who killed his kids and cooked them to eat...)

Letter 73

6 April 2016

 

 

Dear C,

I have just woken up. Everything today is cancelled. All education courses, all work, all movement. It's due to staff training. It also means we will be locked up in our cells for the entire day and night.

I don't really mind, to be honest. Sometimes less of these people I see the better.

As long as my demons won't come to visit me here in my cell - I'm ok. I can spend the entire day painting.

So it's the first time that I am writing to you in the morning - well, it's 9.04 am to be precise. I had my coffee and porridge already.

 

What a dream I had last night C... If I close my eyes I can still see those images rolling through my head.

I stood in front of this massive tree that was covered with red leaves. The sky above it was blue but around it, dark clouds gathered and only some ray of lights were trying to breakthrough. Nothing unusual one may say, but there was something going on above my head. The leaves were changing colours. Well, that's what I thought at first...

Soon I realized that I was watching words appearing in between brunches and leaves. Words that looked like made of clouds or something like that. Very smoky, almost transparent. I could not understand any of them, nor I actually tried. The dark clouds were approaching fast and I could feel there was something evil hiding in them. I actually got really scared and as silly as it sounds now - I was quite terrified.

Then I woke up. I wonder if any of these dreams I have been having have any meaning or they are just some random nightmares.

 

Anyway, yesterday in the yard, I saw a guy who just arrived here. He lives on Res 7. I was told that he killed his children and then cooked them to eat. And apparently, before that he raped them. When I heard that my heart sunk. And the worst part of it was, that the guy who was telling me all this was laughing and almost making that other guy a hero! I wanted to run to my cell and pretend like I never heard this.

My head started banging and I got a massive headache. Wish I could not care so much about things like others here. And now I'm wondering if my dream had anything to do with that guy...

By the way, if you saw him you would never think he had done something so terrible. He looks like a middle-aged man sitting on the tube next to you reading a newspaper.

That is also very scary. This world is totally fucked up.

 

Ok, now the "through the door chats" have just started. Some guys are talking to each other (well yelling rather than talking) because we are all locked up. It's annoying. I am really not interested in knowing how much noodles someone bought last week or what some other people did on Res 6.

I wish I could afford to buy some headphones. I could then isolate myself here with my music and art.

Speaking about art - I should start working on the old man painting I was telling you about in my previous letter. I ordered some new brushes and it cost me almost 15 quid. It's my 2 weeks salary here, so no buying milk or soap anytime soon. Luckily I still have some shower gel left so I will be really saving on this now.

I was wondering how Lisa was. I haven't heard from her for a long time now. I also started to realize that she won't be coming to see me here, even though she had promised me so many times she would. I would love to see her again, but I have a feeling she doesn't care much about me anymore and that's ok.

Let me wrap up here C.

I will get my paints ready. Hope you are doing well.

 

I miss you.

 

Forever yours,

Sebastian

Copyright © 2018 Sebastian Bauer; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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