The Cage
November 29th, 2017
I suppose I should put some kind of explanation here, just in case this does end up making it’s way to the outside world. Not that I hold out much hope for that, but at this point there isn’t much else for me to do.
I wish I could tell you exactly how I ended up in this awful place. I really do. The last coherent memory I have is driving home at night down Route 81 with my wife Catherine in the passenger seat and my eight year old son Benjamin asleep in the back. After that there is this blur of impressions. Something about a road closure, a vague sense of nervousness, and then boom, I’m in this awful cell.
First thing I thought when I opened my eyes was that I’d been arrested for something and was in jail. However, while I’ve never actually been taken into custody, I’m pretty sure even the poorest lockups require some kind of bed to sit on and a toilet. All I have are a few awful smelling rags and a corner.
The more I look at this place the weirder it seems. The stones that they used to build it are not of the same material, and you don’t need to be a mason to tell how incompetent the builder was. Then there’s the door. Damn thing looks like it belongs on a submarine. It’s a solid slab of metal with this weird bubble shaped viewing window at the top and no slit for food or anything. When I look out all I can see are the same black mold infested walls that surround me.
Then there is the fact that all my possessions, including my phone, were still on me when I woke up. That’s how I ended up writing this. I know you’re probably wondering why I haven’t called for help yet, but I can assure you that was the first thing I tried. My phone is flatlined. Zero bars. No service whatsoever. It was dumb luck that I even ended up here. I had about thirty tabs open in Chrome and I was trying each one in turn to see if I could get any service, and I finally got it to load when I hit this tab. I quickly clicked the submit button so I could type out a message but I have no idea if it will go through, since I’ve tried other tabs since then and it’s back to not having any service. Unfortunately this is my only communication with the outside world.
Finally, there is the most bizarre tapping sound coming from the wall. It has been going on nonstop since I woke up but I can’t figure out what’s making it. There are two distinct kinds of tap, one hard and one soft, almost like more code, but it’s like 95% soft taps with only the occasional hard one or two thrown in at random.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m all but shitting my pants right now. While I am scared for my own safety, my biggest concerns are Catherine and Benny. I am far from a religious person, but, without any other action for me to take, I am praying my heart out that you are safe. If you somehow find this message know that I love both of you dearly.
Holy shit. I’ve been here for probably at least a day (though it’s hard to tell) and I finally figured it out. The tapping is the alphabet. Each set of soft taps corresponds to a letter (1 = A…26 = Z), one hard tap is the end of a letter, two is the end of a word, and three marks the end of a sentence. Someone is trying to communicate with me. I’m gonna use this text field to keep track of all the letters since it takes so long to tap out each one, and I’ll add my responses in quotes just in case anyone ever finds this.
LLO. HELLO. HELLO.
“Who is this?”
SAM.
“I’m Mitch. Where are we.”
TRAPPED. HE CAUGHT US.
“Who caught us?”
THE MAN WHO BUILT THIS PLACE.
“Why did he bring us here?”
I DONT KNOW.
“Is he just going to leave us here?”
UNTIL HE COMES FOR YOU.
“What will happen then?”
I DON’T KNOW. BUT NOBODY EVER COMES BACK.
“Are there other people here?”
YES. TWO.
“Who?”
A WOMAN AND A BOY. CATHERINE. BEN.
“That’s my wife and son.”
I KNOW. THEY ARE HERE WITH ME.
“Can they talk to me. Please.”
CATHERINE IS TOO FAR AWAY TO REACH THE WALL. BEN IS HERE.
“Ben. Are you OK?”
DADDY.
“Sam. Is he hurt?”
THE LAST PERSON IN YOUR CELL HAD A MIRROR. HID IT IN CORNER UNDER RAGS. IF YOU PUT IT AGAINST BUBBLE SHOULD BE ABLE TO SEE US.
God oh god why. What did I do to deserve this. I found the mirror and put it against glass, and there was the woman I love bound and tied, her body breathing but her eyes dead. Shoved into her mouth was a long cord of entrails, which trailed across the floor until they ended at the severed torso of Benny, who was in the clutches of a wild eyed, matted haired man, naked except for the splatters of blood across his torso and the streaks of shit running down the back of his legs. He was bashing my sweet boy against the wall of the room. Bashing and bashing and bashing and bashing.
