capeandcowl | twenty. text. backdated to monday.

In the 1940s, rumor has it that a prisoner on the island of Alcatraz was killed by a ghost. 

Back in those days (unlike these days), they had isolation chambers called hole cells where the prisoners were kept in near darkness for weeks on end. "Bang bang bang," one prisoner cried and pounded. "Someone's trying to murder me in here." But the guards thought he was hallucinating, as those being tortured with solitude tended to, and so they did nothing. When the prisoner stopped screaming, they were quite content until they opened the cell and found that he was dead. He had markings on his neck. Strangulation. No one else was in the cell.

Ghost stories have a sort of charm, don't they? Whether or not you believe them, I mean. I don't generally because we didn't have imports back then and because the living can be fucking horrible enough. I'm certain one of the guards killed him and thought they had a clever way of covering it up. Which they did.

I wonder what the prisoner's crime was. But I don't even have a name.

I know I would take death as a legacy if nothing else.

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You can't never quite predict those things, in this place. Like you can never predict whether ghosts are real here.

[Pause, then quickly:]

I'm glad it didn't ruin our friendship. Or this thing, whatever it is, if it's called a friendship. Acquaintanceship.

[ A snort ]

It would be awfully petty, if it did, don't you think? Then again, we were children. I'm glad it didn't too.

Ha.

[Pause.]

Anyway, I don't think I'd take a meaningless life over a ghost story. I mean, I'd take a mundane life and a mundane death as long as I could accomplish something that would last, something that would make it all worthwhile. That's what I'm hoping for. [Pause.] And that's what I have. But if that weren't the case, being remembered for my death is something.

Edited 2011-10-15 00:35 (UTC)

I guess it's hard to think about. People like you and me, it's kind of hard to think about having a meaningless life. [ There's a long pause. ]

I think the thing to ask is how much you'd have to suffer for a meaningful death. Would it still be worth it?

We've both died, the two of us.

What do you think?

I think it was one of the shittiest experiences in my life. Not the shittiest, though.

Really?

I had half my face blown off. That was a bit more painful.

[Pause.]

I'm very sorry.

Eh, you know. It's the way things go. It was years ago, but it was particularly shitty at the time.

[He laughs, nervous energy.]

I really can't imagine.

Most people can't, I won't blame you. Seriously, don't touch mysterious objects.

twenty. text. backdated to monday.

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