the journal of literature and the arts at saint david ’ s school
Haven Short Fiction Based on Alexandre Dumas ’ Count of Monte Cristo
I wake up to darkness , live in the darkness , sleep in darkness . I don ’ t much fancy the darkness . I find it a bit too cold . The light is nice . Oh yes , I love the light , the sun . But the darkness does not scare me , I am not afraid of such things . I am , however , blessed with a tiny sliver of light from my window . A beautiful thing , it is . An opening of about half an arm ’ s width and a finger joint high . It gives me the slightest reference to time , not that I care much about the time . Ah yes , time . At some point I figured out how to interpret the time from the lighting and the hours of my meals . I was pleased , yet soon found it to be a waste of effort and , ironically , time . I forgot how to calculate it , and don ’ t care to remember .
The guards bring me my meals . There isn ’ t much variety , but that doesn ’ t matter . I love the food . I have become accustomed to even sharing my meals with the guards themselves ! Good company , yes , jolly good fellows the guards are . Afterwards , we fight for sport , blindfolded of course . At first I did not understand why , but after being told it was to stay fit and healthy and so that we can further tune our senses to the dark , it made perfect sense .
During the winter , the walls around me are cold , very cold indeed . The iron bars barricading me from the rest of the prison , even colder . In the summer , they remain cool , yet still cold enough to keep me awake and alert for whatever may happen . I am not able to smell any longer , nor feel much in my fingers . I can ’ t tell whether from age or something else , but if I recall correctly it began soon after my arrival .
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