Palace to Prison

Sometime later he awoke; encompassed in a d ark void with no recollection as to how he had arrived. The violent shivers of his body did little to combat the biting cold. He rolled over onto his knees and tried to collect his thoughts. He fought his splitting headache, and tried to remember who and where he was. The rocky ground dug into his body, the visceral pain distracting him momentarily from the icy chill of his surroundings. As he sat on his knees, he ransacked his memory for any trace of a time before the current one. After several moments of fruitless reflection, he gave up. He ruffled through the pockets of his pants, praying that they contained some po tential source of light. His fingers dodged a smooth cold rectangle in his pocket and blissfully closed around the deformed wax cylinder of a candle. He began t o grasp around the frigid stone floor until his fingers closed around a jagged o bject. The flint bit into his fingers, and he dropped it instinctively. He gingerly picked it up again, and struck it against the rock floor. A lone spark jumped forth in the ecstasy of creation, perching itself on the wick and lighting the candle. With candle lit, he examined his injured hand. A droplet of blood h ad formed. He wiped his hand on his tattered, grimy pants, and stoo d up. With a slow sweeping motion of his hand, he used the candle to view the outer expanses of the circular room. He was greeted by a shimmering expanse of golden bars that were stacked tightly up to the low overhanging ceiling. The flickering candle flame reflected off o f the innumerable bars, appearing like thousands of eyes twinkling mischievously in the night. With mouth agape he stared; unable to comprehend his earthly fortune. He dug out th e bar from his pocket, and saw that it too was gold. He lunged for the larger pile of gold, filled his pockets with the gold, rejoiced over the gold. He picked another bar up and admired his own warped reflection on the side of it. A miniature image of himself stared back, encased in its golden confines. He began to wonder who this gold belonged to, who had amassed such a fortune and cho sen to bury it away. After the bountiful intoxication wore off, he noticed the iron ladder in the center of the room. Pockets laden with his riches, h e approached. He held the candle up to the rusted, worn rungs. He peered upward, his eyes running up the twin pillars of iro n as they disappeared through a circular opening cut into the ceiling. Several gol den bars lay at the