Ol' Flint the Crow

Flint's Tale pt. 8

...The dark steps, descending to the dungeon depths, were illuminated by the torches of the townsfolk as they led their captives downward. My talons pattered against the hard stone staircase making a deafening scrapping sound that penetrated my ringing eardrums. I wanted to turn my head around and check up on Tabitha who was still being violently dragged along by Todd, but I needed to pay attention to my footing as I leaped down the uneven steps.

A nauseating taste in my beak caused my stomach to churn after every other hop I took. I felt like throwing up, but nothing came out of my beak. The only thing I could do was dry-heave, producing a repulsive sound throughout the dank prison.

Walking among the grimy cells with dirty piles of soggy hay, I was surprised to see how expansive the jail was. It was empty too, since all those sentenced to prison were quickly taken to the gallows soon afterward. This made it even eerier to behold.

When we reached the final end of the dark room, I noticed a separate chamber with a heavy steel door fully open. Inside, I could see a single chair with sturdy locks where the prisoner's arms and legs would go. Once strapped in, the captive was there for good, without any way for them to escape.

On the walls, many sharp tools hung from large hooks that stuck out like jagged spikes. There where surgical instruments for cutting and breaking along with whips and other weapons to inflict massive amounts of discomfort. On the floor, there was a red stain that I guessed had been blood from long ago.

This frightening room reminded me of something. My dark time with the wizard made me realize what this room was for... What its purpose was... A torture room!

"Lock 'em up!" Todd screeched as he gestured to his group.

Before I could say a word of objection, the resistance fighters cast their prisoners into the musty smelling cells. They were not gentle with them either. The townsfolk threw the nobility and all the guards would had surrendered into the jails. This included young Gregory Willard and the page boy named Jim. Using his fighting skills, he had learned from the general, little Jim jabbed his fist into the eyeball of the resistance woman holding him. The blow made a loud splattering noise that sounded as painful as it looked.

Groaning in frustration, the lady tried to restrain the boy without hurting him. I then noticed that it was the same woman who had shown pity to the royal family as Todd butchered them.

"Stop fighting!" she pleaded with the boy as she held on to him while pressing her injured eye feebly. "You'll only get yourself hurt!"

In spite of the woman's cries, the boy continued to bite and strike her with tremendous passion for just being a child. Gritting his teeth in frustration at the sight, one of the other resistance fighters, who had witnessed the death of the king and queen and had enjoyed it quite a bit at that, yanked the kid by the hair. He then hurdled Jim like a ball into the cell where the kid hit the floor with his skull. Unconscious and bleeding from the head, Jim laid perfectly still.

The woman, unnerved by the man's cruelty, gave him a blank stare of disbelief.

Brushing his hands on his dusty pants, the man said to the alarmed lady, "That's how you deal with a little brat like that!"

Next, the rest of the commoners locked the cell doors and left the nobility in the darkness as the aristocrats whimpered in fear. My head was reeling now. I was about ready to flee the jail, until I heard Todd's blaring voice.

"You too!" he yelled at my girl while dragging her towards an empty cell.

Yanking Tabitha by the arm, I saw her let out a yelp in pain. Todd was using enough force to pull her arm out of socket! My beak twitched into a resentful scowl as I rushed to Tabitha's aid.