STORY I. went by, slowly, the hours in this strange room. The place had cold, dull white in color without much decoration but fleeting presence of some tiny insect that ran around the bland wall. Were cold and smooth, very smooth, those walls.
My hands stroked, palm of these, those walls. With that tender gesture was to find a little space for escape from this strange place. But all I found was nothing.
was not why I had to see inside the room. Even, however strange it may seem, could not remember how he got there or how long it would take there.
were cold, very cold, those walls.
My mind turned again and again and again, trying to discern a logical explanation for all this strange nonsense, but it was just me, these four cold walls and smooth, the little bug that ran through there and that color White coming to hurt my retinas.
On more than one occasion I held my breath to see if I could hear some sound, a familiar sound that I could pass something in order to weave the swirl of questions that hammered my head. Silence, that was all ... silence.
began to find a little nervous, that uncertainty was beginning to despair. If at least one appeared to explain the reason for my imprisonment, but this does not appear anyone.
been several days, or so it seems to me. I have no hunger, as if my body is getting food from scratch prevailing in that strange, cold, white place. Nor do I have feeling tired, I remember that at no time tried to sleep or I have slept, but my body is strong and still active physics. I started working a bit my body got so many hours here doing nothing were beginning to tire my physique.
is strange, but I'm not bored. It is as if during that time was endless fun with my own thoughts, but I do not remember thinking anything entertain. I think I'm starting to lose my head and nobody appears to give me a simple explanation, I want more, just a little explanation. I do not even get upset with my captor, it will interpret as a heavy trick, but I'll leave it there. Silence is all I get.
few days ago I started to feel a slight murmur, I can not understand anything what they talk about those distant voices, but I hear something. It's a very brief and sometimes there are long periods of days between a whisper and another. But it is extremely pleasing sound to perceive something that is not cruel silence.
I still do not eat, no sleep, no need to go to the bathroom. This has me very intrigued, how do I make my own stools? In here there is no toilet, no nothing, not a hole in the ground ... nothing is all white, cold and silence, silence broken occasionally by the murmur of their voices so close and distant but charming.
My hands are no longer able to feel the cold that transmitted those plain white walls. I had already used, were part of me, I was part of that place, had no escape, there that would die sooner or later. Lying there watching the white sky offered me my foul, but white room. The whispers and I were so charming, when they got the used to be occupied for a while, which lasted, after entertaining me with silence, that heavy silence.
I have no more desire to think, to know what happened to my life and that is it. Because why I am in here, to whom will be thinking of kidnapping a person and leave his fate in this place. Sometimes I understand some of these whispers, something that resembles the words hospital, stable ... but are so subtle that I can hardly feel anything. My hope has reached a point where not want to fight, do not want to fight. Let me die here, let me trapped in this stupid place white, smooth and cold walls, small insects that are like trying to escape from this hell, occasional whispers that tell me nothing and above all what has destroyed my soul, silence. A hell and eternal silence.
Silence
by Joaquín Hurtado Giraldo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported .
