In the Château d’ If An Interior Monologue Inspired by Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo
the journal of literature and the arts at saint david’ s school
In the Château d’ If An Interior Monologue Inspired by Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo
I wake up disoriented. Just last night, I dreamed I was with my family, back in the green fields of Lorraine, with the sun shining on my face. The air there was clean, but I am brought back to reality now by the stench of sweat and a persistent fishy odor. The saddest part about my coming to is not the putrid smell or my realization that I may never see my family again, but the fact that I cannot remember their faces anymore. After roughly 600 days here, the outside world is just a vague memory, a moment in my life which has passed too soon. Much like accurately counting my days here, I have learned that escape is futile. No matter what I promise the guards, no matter how much I wear away at my walls, I will never leave this place.
And so I go about my day, no different than the past 600 and no different from the next 600. I dismount my rough straw bed and go to my wonderfully prepared breakfast of bread and water. The water has a brownish tint, and the bread hurts my teeth and mandible, but anything is better than going hungry. The French have made many forms of torture— the rack, water torture, peine forte et dure— but the Château d’ If harms differently. There is simply nothing to do.
After breakfast, I can only pace around my musty cell. Boredom quickly sets in, and my only lifeline has yet to reveal itself today. Andres wakes up just before lunch. Without him, I would have gone insane long before now. Being each other’ s only source of entertainment, we talk for hours. I pity the
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