Father Penitence prays louder to drown out my requests, “Goddess above, lead this forsaken soul back to the fold.”
“Father, I really need to pee!”
He replies through gritted teeth, “You went ten minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, I drink water obsessively when I’m bored!”
Father Penitence heads upstairs, leaving me alone in the darkness.
“Hey wait! I really need to pee!”
A half hour later, he brings me a chamber pot.
—
The number on my wrist has been decreasing steadily since The Incident. As far as I can tell, it ticks down by one every minute.
FTH: -936
There it goes. It’s pretty useful for keeping time down here.
I wonder when it’ll stop.
FTH: -937
I wonder if it’ll ever stop.
—
Nobody ever talks about how boring jail is. Thankfully, I have Father Penitence to keep me company. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but he has a way with words.
“Dear Goddess, grant this wayward youth the wisdom to repent.”
I’ve never heard one man express the same sentiment in so many different ways.
“Mother in Heaven, may your infinite grace …”
FTH: -2144
—
When you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up.
My strength and motivation are returning to me. A boy my age can only mope around for so long. The way I see it, there’s only three ways this can go:
(A) Plun rallies a rag-tag but loveable rescue squad to break me out of jail.
(B) Demons successfully invade Beltine and I’m freed in the ensuing chaos.
(C) I’m hauled in front of an impartial jury of holy folk and convince them to set me free with an impassioned speech.
“Father, may I have pen and paper?”
I might as well prepare my speech for option C.
Respected Elders, let me pose one simple question. The word ‘sin’ derives from the Greek word ‘hamartia,’ which means ‘to miss the mark.’ I stand before you to beg forgiveness for my sins. Yet what is sin but the unfailing sign of aiming high? Should a man be punished for missing the mark because in his devotion to the Goddess he sets his sights too high? My fate is …
FTH: -4723
—
Another day, another catastrophe.
Last night I knocked over the chamber pot whilst getting up to pee. The shards of ceramic on the ground bring to mind two options that I missed:
(D) Hide a shard, kill Father Penitence as he approaches and steal his key.
(S) (for Shawshank.) Dig for twenty years.
I try to block them out of my mind, but the damage has been done. By noticing these alternatives, I significantly reduced the chances of options A-C.
No more thinking for me.
FTH: -6120
—
I wake to the sound of an alarm clock.
8:00AM.
Shoot, I’m late for the bus!
I throw on some clothes and hop downstairs.
“Honey, don’t forget your lunchbox!”
Mom hands me a heavy box as I run out the door for the approaching school bus. I make it just in time. I walk down the aisle to take my usual seat at the very back.
The bus is empty except for three other passengers: the sweeper monk, a blind crone, and a one-eyed raven.
That’s strange.
I search my mind for the source of that note of confusion.
My lunchbox sure is heavy today.
I open it to find an atomic bomb. The timer is set to 6:00. The countdown starts.
I read somewhere that an atomic bomb has a blast radius of one mile.
My mile time is 7:43.
I run back down the aisle, faster than I’ve ever run in my life. So fast I start to worry about special relativity.
Isn’t it funny that with respect to the Earth’s frame of reference, I’m running faster than the bus is moving? Wait…
Shouldn’t the bus be shrinking instead of stretching?
The faster I run, the longer the bus stretches.
I run past the one-eyed raven, who caws at me: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! Find Mencius in the Valley of the Dead, Murphy!”
Past the blind crone, who points at me with fingers laden with jewelled rings: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! In the Valley of the Dead, philosophers are kings, Murphy!”
Past the silent monk, who crosses himself before opening his mouth to speak to me for the first time: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! Only one road leads to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy!”
Past the point of no return.
—
I wake back in my cell with a shriek.
It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.
I shiver and check the time.
FTH: -7199
Just before midnight. As I calm down, I notice a figure at the door.
Oh god!
I scramble away in terror.
It’s the silent monk.
He unlocks the door to my cell. Every bone in my body wants to scream. He gestures for me to leave.
I blink. This monk is my savior?
As I walk out of the cell, he whispers: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! Only one road leads to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy!”
“I need to pee.”
…
“I need to pee.”
…
“I really need to pee!”
Father Penitence prays louder to drown out my requests, “Goddess above, lead this forsaken soul back to the fold.”
“Father, I really need to pee!”
He replies through gritted teeth, “You went ten minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, I drink water obsessively when I’m bored!”
Father Penitence heads upstairs, leaving me alone in the darkness.
“Hey wait! I really need to pee!”
A half hour later, he brings me a chamber pot.
—
The number on my wrist has been decreasing steadily since The Incident. As far as I can tell, it ticks down by one every minute.
FTH: -936
There it goes. It’s pretty useful for keeping time down here.
I wonder when it’ll stop.
FTH: -937
I wonder if it’ll ever stop.
—
Nobody ever talks about how boring jail is. Thankfully, I have Father Penitence to keep me company. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but he has a way with words.
“Dear Goddess, grant this wayward youth the wisdom to repent.”
I’ve never heard one man express the same sentiment in so many different ways.
“Mother in Heaven, may your infinite grace …”
FTH: -2144
—
When you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up.
My strength and motivation are returning to me. A boy my age can only mope around for so long. The way I see it, there’s only three ways this can go:
(A) Plun rallies a rag-tag but loveable rescue squad to break me out of jail.
(B) Demons successfully invade Beltine and I’m freed in the ensuing chaos.
(C) I’m hauled in front of an impartial jury of holy folk and convince them to set me free with an impassioned speech.
“Father, may I have pen and paper?”
I might as well prepare my speech for option C.
Respected Elders, let me pose one simple question. The word ‘sin’ derives from the Greek word ‘hamartia,’ which means ‘to miss the mark.’ I stand before you to beg forgiveness for my sins. Yet what is sin but the unfailing sign of aiming high? Should a man be punished for missing the mark because in his devotion to the Goddess he sets his sights too high? My fate is …
FTH: -4723
—
Another day, another catastrophe.
Last night I knocked over the chamber pot whilst getting up to pee. The shards of ceramic on the ground bring to mind two options that I missed:
(D) Hide a shard, kill Father Penitence as he approaches and steal his key.
(S) (for Shawshank.) Dig for twenty years.
I try to block them out of my mind, but the damage has been done. By noticing these alternatives, I significantly reduced the chances of options A-C.
No more thinking for me.
FTH: -6120
—
I wake to the sound of an alarm clock.
8:00AM.
Shoot, I’m late for the bus!
I throw on some clothes and hop downstairs.
“Honey, don’t forget your lunchbox!”
Mom hands me a heavy box as I run out the door for the approaching school bus. I make it just in time. I walk down the aisle to take my usual seat at the very back.
The bus is empty except for three other passengers: the sweeper monk, a blind crone, and a one-eyed raven.
That’s strange.
I search my mind for the source of that note of confusion.
My lunchbox sure is heavy today.
I open it to find an atomic bomb. The timer is set to 6:00. The countdown starts.
I read somewhere that an atomic bomb has a blast radius of one mile.
My mile time is 7:43.
I run back down the aisle, faster than I’ve ever run in my life. So fast I start to worry about special relativity.
Isn’t it funny that with respect to the Earth’s frame of reference, I’m running faster than the bus is moving? Wait…
Shouldn’t the bus be shrinking instead of stretching?
The faster I run, the longer the bus stretches.
I run past the one-eyed raven, who caws at me: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! Find Mencius in the Valley of the Dead, Murphy!”
Past the blind crone, who points at me with fingers laden with jewelled rings: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! In the Valley of the Dead, philosophers are kings, Murphy!”
Past the silent monk, who crosses himself before opening his mouth to speak to me for the first time: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! Only one road leads to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy!”
Past the point of no return.
—
I wake back in my cell with a shriek.
It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.
I shiver and check the time.
FTH: -7199
Just before midnight. As I calm down, I notice a figure at the door.
Oh god!
I scramble away in terror.
It’s the silent monk.
He unlocks the door to my cell. Every bone in my body wants to scream. He gestures for me to leave.
I blink. This monk is my savior?
As I walk out of the cell, he whispers: “Murphy! Run to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy! Only one road leads to the Valley of the Dead, Murphy!”
I sprint for dear life.