Schizophrenic Prisoner Abandoned in Washroom of Old Coal Mine

The floor was cold. Cold and grimy. And soft. Yes... it was soft now. I ran my fingers between the cracks. It was soft now. I could feel it in my fingers. It didn't look soft, but it was soft. It was very soft. Like a sugar glaze. Yes, like a sugar glaze. I could feel it in my fingers.

I ran my fingers between the cracks.

"WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW WHERE I AM?!" I yelled toward the entrance. The Light had come back around, greeting me again.

"Yes, of COURSE I'll write it out for you!"

I began to write out my location for The Light. Of course I'll write out my location for you, Light. Of course I will, my friend. Of course I will. Of course I will.

I stuck my fingers into the sugary soft muck of the floor. Or, I tried to. It looked like a cold glaze... it did, truly! It looked soft, but it made my fingers bleed. After a few hours a few of the bones in my fingers began to jam and swell. The middle finger on my right hand turned into a purple sausage.

Where did the pain come from? The floor is soft, sticky with muck and sugar. Where did the pain come from, Light?

I ran out the door, towards The Light.

"LIGHT! Answer me!"

"OK, I'm calm. I'm calm."

I walked back inside. When my feet rubbed against the floor it sounded like the inside of a gymnasium. Why? The floor is soft! Why does it make the noises?

"WHY DOES IT SOUND THIS WAY?!" I threw a tantrum, shaking the chains that hung from the ceiling.

I took a deep breath, deep down from the bottom of my diaphragm. I tasted soot. Ash. I remembered.

The coal mine's washroom, abandoned for... how long?

I knelt down slowly, inching back toward the floor. The floor was cold. Cold and grimy. And soft...