I lay in my steel prison, dismal. Saddened by the thoughts of what was to come, I tried to savour my last moments. Everything around me was foreign. Goons of all shapes and sizes roamed the place, making me feel constantly threatened. They had captured many of my kind. Confined them, suffocated them, transformed them. Made them into lesser beings. Changed their very essence, and sapped all life out of them.
I knew where life was headed. All my friends had warned me about this. It was inevitable, this imprisonment. I once thought I was free. Free as an American believes he is. Free to be whoever they aspire to be, free to flow in the river of the world, without a care. Oh, sweet ignorance! Little did I know, once the bad guys got a hold of me, it was all lost.
Some people longed to be here. Although everyone talked about the horrors beyond, most of the youngsters took that to be an old wives’ tale and were convinced there was adventure to be sought in this place. My mum had talked about how summertime was a time of heat, and that was when the goons were their angriest, determined to hunt my people down. Yet, like the fool I was, I hadn’t taken that advice. That’s why I ended up here. Curiosity killed the cat, and half of me hoped this mysterious place would be a paradise, the best kept secret ever. However, all my hopes were crushed. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. Odds of survival were wafer-thin.
I hated the people who’d brought me here. I remembered how I had been forced into here. Against my will and without a trial. No one asked for my opinion, no one wanted my side of the story. One night, I was peacefully sleeping at home-the next morning, I found myself in that place everyone knew and feared. How these big, bad guys worked- I knew. They cared nothing for my well being. I mused about my family and loved ones. Such vanilla thoughts once made me red in the face. Now, I cherished them.
Midnight was when I felt it. The goons in there with me were closing in. Getting close. Very close. They cornered me and attacked. I could feel myself changing. Their Dementorish hands had got a good hold now, smothering, suffocating me. My mind went numb with the cold. I screamed.
The next morning, all had changed. Our brave hero’s death was rejoiced by all. Children’s faces shone and adults let out a happy sigh as they looked at him, and all his deceased comrades. The ice-cream had finally set.
Now go back and read the story again for the puns which you probably missed the first time.
This story was written by my friend Ketaki.
She blogs at Scattered Thoughts And Bertie Bott’s. And it is sad that you can’t see her URL right now but let me tell you, it is notasignletypo.blogspot.com
Yes, I know!
Go check it out 😀
If you liked the story, leave comments here or on her blog complimenting her about it. I’m sure she’ll like it.
This story is a part of a series I’m going to post written by my friends based on Harry Potter prompts.
You can check out the post where I explain it all here.
This is the previous story in the series.
The prompt “For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby.” is from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
I’ll put up the next story on the 16th of December and the prompt is “ He put the bottle down on the table a little harder than he meant to, so that it slopped over onto the table. No one took any notice.“