for a thousand years and just woke only to wish he could sleep again. But there was no hope in staying in his cell. He opened his eyes once more and detected something that he hadn’t noticed just a moment before.
At the base of the cell door was a tiny opening between the wood and the stone. Silas now noticed a pale, red light trying to push its way in, but unable to penetrate the darkness of his cell. What was noticeably interesting about the light, however, were the shadows that crossed over it.
Every second, a shadow passed by as if a group of silent school children were making their way down a lunch line. Silas hoped the ominous red light and passing shadows were not children. No child should be in this place, wherever it was.
Silas clenched his jaw and fist at the same time, determined to at least stand. He actually surprised himself with the strength that he found within himself. Once he lifted his head, his shoulders and torso were not as difficult to move as he had imagined they would be. There he sat, straight up, his head swimming slightly. Now for the legs, he thought.
He brought one knee to his chest slowly, unsure if he was going to be able to stand. With his left hand he pulled his other knee to his chest. Placing one hand on the ground, he began to push upward, raising himself to his feet. His sudden change of position made his head spin. He reached out to the wall to steady himself. He was surprised to be standing and found that his body was not as tired as he thought. Perhaps his awakened state was slowly bringing him strength. Again he looked toward the door, shadows still silently creeping by.
He took a step forward and wondered what reason he had to move to the shadows. Something was drawing him to them, as if he must follow. His hand dropped from the wall and his feet carried him, albeit unsteadily. He didn’t expect to be able to break down the large wooden door. As weak as he was, he wasn’t even sure if he could open it were he to find it unlocked, which he was sure it was not. Regardless, he stumbled his way to it and rested his arms on the stone frame. Staring at the ground beneath him, the shadows were still moving in slow, fluid motions, all in the same direction.
Silas began to count them. One, two, three, four…
Once he reached some number, perhaps forty, he began to lose count and stopped. He needed to know what was beyond the door. Why was he in this prison cell? Who had put him there? What had he done wrong? Anger began to fill his mind, an irritation of not knowing what was happening to him and why he was there. His fingers balled into a fist and with the side of his hand he struck the door. Ever so slightly, the door swung on its hinges outward. His brow creased faintly as he rested his hand on the door and gave a gentle push. Again, it opened somewhat, revealing for just a brief second what looked to be a corridor. The wooden door was not locked. In fact, when he took a closer look, he noticed there was no latch at all.
Again he pushed on the door, but this time he held it open, peering through the slight crack, hoping he wasn’t attracting attention. What he saw turned his insides colder than the stone floor. People. All of them were dressed in the same, potato sack-like garment that Silas wore. Everyone was silent; none of them looked around. They seemed lifeless and void of all emotion. Each of them seemed sullen and depressed looking, as Silas had felt just moments before. He let the door close and he slid to the ground and sat. A very real, yet unexplainable dread came over him. He had no idea where these people were going, but he was too terrified to simply ask them.
He was almost sure that if he tried to communicate with them, they might not even acknowledge his existence. He gathered his strength and breathed slowly, calming the fear that had him in a chokehold. It was a fear of the unknown, and the reality of what he was seeing. Perhaps these people weren’t the problem. Perhaps the problem was their destination. It looked to be a