Chapter no.5 Mysterious Murals

The room in which I found myself held captive was a damp, musty chamber, where moss flourished on the walls and a thick layer of dust coated every surface. My only source of light and comfort came from the luminescent mushrooms scattered throughout the space, their small orbs of soft light providing a faint sense of joy in the midst of my grim confinement. The heavy metal door that imprisoned me stood tall and unyielding, serving as both the entrance and exit to this desolate cell, locked tight and impenetrable at all times.

As the days blended into weeks, my mental state began to deteriorate, and my desperation turned into madness. In a fit of delirium, I threw myself against the door, again and again, refusing to accept my fate as a captive in this forsaken place. My futile attempts at breaking the door down, however, only resulted in excruciating pain and injury, as I shattered my shoulder beyond repair.

Despite my best efforts to break free from my captors, I found myself alone and untreated in my damp, musty cell. The pain in my shattered shoulder was excruciating, and the lack of medical attention had left me unable to move my arm at all. Any hope of using my teeth as a weapon to fight my captors was quickly dashed as the days turned into weeks and still, no one came to treat me.

The only interaction I had with my captors was when they delivered my meager rations once a day. However, even this small semblance of contact was unpredictable, as the timing of the deliveries varied from day to day. Sometimes my food would arrive 7-12 hours after I woke up, while other times it would be delayed even longer. The inconsistent timing left me guessing when my next meal would arrive, unsure if it was the result of procrastination or if the distance between where I was held captive and where my captors were located was too great.

As I struggled to survive on barely enough food to keep me alive, my mind began to fracture under the weight of my captivity. The luminescent mushrooms, once a source of comfort, began to take on a sinister, otherworldly quality, and the whispering shadows that haunted my cell only served to further destabilize my mental state. In my darkest moments, I couldn't help but wonder if my captors were intentionally torturing me with their unpredictable behavior, or if I was simply a pawn in a game of madness beyond my understanding.

The quantity of food given to me was barely enough for survival. Each day, I would receive a meager portion of some unidentifiable meat that was laced with a spicy, pungent flavor. I couldn't quite place the taste, but it was familiar, like something I had tasted before. Perhaps it was the way the meat was cooked or the spices that were used, but it triggered a sense of unease within me. The thought of what I was consuming made me shudder.

"What the hell am I eating?" I muttered to myself, as I stared down at the small, pitiful portion of meat on my plate. "Is it even meat? It looks like some kind of gristly, unidentifiable sludge."

As time passed, I noticed that the meat was becoming more and more scarce, and the gaps between meals were growing longer. My stomach would grumble and ache, and I could feel myself growing weaker with each passing day. It was as if my captors were deliberately trying to starve me, to weaken me both physically and mentally.

"They're trying to break me," I thought to myself, as I lay on the cold, damp floor. "They want to see me suffer, to see me crumble and fall apart."

As the hunger pangs intensified, my mind began to play tricks on me. I started to see things in the darkness, strange and terrifying creatures that lurked just beyond the reach of the glowing mushrooms. Their eyes would gleam in the shadows, and their teeth would glint in the dim light, and I could hear their whispers echoing through the dank, musty air.

"I'm losing my mind," I whispered to myself, as I huddled in the corner, clutching my knees to my chest.

"This place is driving me insane."

It wasn't just the hunger that was driving me mad. I could hear voices in my head, urging me to uncover the secrets of the murals that lined the walls. They whispered to me, promising me answers and salvation if only I could decipher the strange symbols that were etched into the stone. The voices were both comforting and terrifying, and I found myself both drawn to and repulsed by their presence.

"What do you want from me?" I asked the empty room, as the voices grew louder and more insistent. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

I knew that I needed to escape this hellish prison, to break free from the shackles that bound me to this nightmare. But my body was weak, and my mind was fragile. I was running out of time, and my captors seemed to revel in my suffering. The only thing that gave me hope was the strange murals on the walls. I knew that they held the key to my freedom, and I would do whatever it took to uncover their secrets.

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Time didn't stop for anyone. Time never waited for anyone or anything. No matter how many times we get the opportunity to do something, only time will be able to tell the outcome. That's how it is.

That's why choices were important. Very important. You can never go back on your choices. Even if time were to be a piece of human perception and a social construct or an illusion we created for ourselves; you can't help the nagging feeling that time is slipping away slowly, right beneath your fingertips... Can you?

Time passed or did it? I couldn't tell in this place.

I couldn't even guess how much time had passed.

Whoever delivered the food was either a quiet person or I wasn't just cute enough to get catcalled. The small window was just mechanically opened once a day with the weird symbol as an indicator and supplied me with " food " if you could even call it that.

As I sat alone in my dark cell, my thoughts turned to the murals that lined the walls. It was as if they were alive, whispering secrets to me in a language I couldn't quite understand.

"Do you know something I don't?" I asked them, tracing my finger over the intricate shapes and symbols etched into the stone. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

I knew that it was insane to talk to the murals as if they were real people, but the isolation was taking its toll on my mind. I needed something to hold onto, something to keep me from descending into madness.

"You are my only friends," I muttered to myself, as I stared at the images of fruit and other objects depicted on the murals. "You're the only ones who understand what I'm going through, right."

I spent hours each day studying the murals, trying to decipher their meaning. I was convinced that they held the key to my escape, and that understanding their secrets was the only way out of this hellish prison.

As time passed, my obsession with the murals grew. I began to see them as living beings, with their own thoughts and desires. I would talk to them, ask them questions, and listen for their whispers in the darkness.

"It's like you're trying to communicate with me," I said to myself, as I traced my fingers over the rough stone. "But what are you trying to say?"

The murals held a strange power over me, one that I couldn't quite explain. They were my only source of comfort in this dark and lonely place, and I clung to them like a lifeline.

"I must understand you," I whispered to the murals, my eyes fixed on the intricate images of fruit and objects that adorned them. Though the symbols were a mystery to me, I could tell that the language was composed of 26 unique shapes, much like the Alifazmiyya language I had learned from Aisha. Relief washed over me, as I knew that I could decode it.

"You hold the key to my salvation," I continued, feeling a sense of purpose and determination take root within me. It was clear that I was not the first to be held captive in this place, but what had become of those who had come before me?

Despite the uncertainty of my situation, I clung to the murals as a source of comfort and guidance. They spoke to me in a way that no human voice ever could, filling me with a sense of hope that there was a way out of this prison.

As my obsession with the murals deepened, I felt my mind begin to unravel. I was teetering on the edge of insanity, but I could not stop myself from studying and analyzing every intricate detail of the symbols etched into the stone.

For hours on end, I would trace the lines of the images, trying to unlock the secrets that lay hidden within them. I knew that I had to find a way to decode the language, for my own sanity and for my chance at escape.

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I had been trapped in this dark, damp prison for what felt like an eternity. The only company I had were the moss-covered murals that lined the walls of my cell. As the days passed, I found myself becoming increasingly obsessed with deciphering the mysterious language etched onto the murals. I spent hours each day studying the shapes and symbols, linking each letter to the Alifazmiyya's alphabets.

"Do you know the way out of here?" I asked them, my voice trembling. "Do you hold the key to my freedom?"

"Please, show me the way," I begged them, as I traced my fingers over the intricate symbols. "I can't take this anymore. I need to get out of here."

The murals remained silent, their secrets locked away behind the stone.

Frustration boiled inside me, and I couldn't help but lash out.

"Fine, keep your secrets to yourself," I screamed, kicking the wall with all my might. Pain erupted in my foot, and I comically began to hop around before falling to the ground in agony. "I hurt you, and you hurt me. We're equal now, so tell me what you know!"

But the murals remained stubbornly silent, a

" Ok, I won't talk to you then." I exclaimed as I spent every waking moment walking along the narrow walls of my cell, feeling for any weaknesses or potential escape routes. I walked and walked, until my feet were calloused and my legs were sore from the constant movement. The food that was delivered once a day was insufficient to sustain me, so I turned to scraping moss from the walls to stave off my hunger. The taste was revolting, like the bitter tang of death. But I survived, day after day, using the monotony of my routine to keep me grounded in reality.

As my body began to adapt to the darkness, I started to notice small changes. My leg muscles grew stronger with each day, and I even started to do push-ups to build my upper body strength. The pain was intense, but it helped to distract me from the weight of my isolation.

And then, one day, I noticed something even more miraculous. My eyes had begun to adapt to the darkness. I couldn't say when it had started or how, but I could suddenly make out shapes and lines in the shadows. It was a small thing, but it gave me a sense of hope that I hadn't felt in a long time. My body had changed significantly, due to the lack of nutrition and constant movement, but my eyes had begun to see in this darkness.

Maybe it was because of the moss or the strange glowing mushrooms.

.....

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I surveyed the underground space before me. It was as desolate and depressing as I had anticipated. There wasn't a single piece of furniture in the square space, but there were countless murals covering every inch of the walls, ceiling, and even the floor. It struck me as odd that I hadn't noticed the floor murals before, but I quickly dismissed the thought as yet another symptom of my deteriorating mental state.

My attention was drawn to the corner of the room where I had been relieving myself. The accumulated excrement gave off a foul odor that made my stomach churn. However, what surprised me was the presence of unidentified insects that had gathered to feast on the filth. I couldn't help but wonder how they had managed to get into this enclosed space. Had they crawled in through a crevice or hole that I hadn't noticed before? I had never heard the buzz of their wings until now, and it made me feel even more isolated and trapped.

As the realization of my dire situation set in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over me. The only company I had in this hellhole were insects feasting on my feces and my mural buddies.

I had truly hit rock bottom. My mind had fractured under the weight of my isolation, and I had finally lost my grip on reality.

In that moment, I realized that if I didn't find a way out soon, I might never leave this place alive.

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[ Author Note: The Alifazmiyya Language ]

A variation of the he Arabic language with 26 letters known as "Alifazmiyya," derived from the Arabic word "Alif," which means "letter," and the suffix "-azmiyya," which could imply "of determination" or "of firmness." This name could suggest a language with a strong and determined writing system, capable of expressing complex ideas with precision and clarity.

Alifazmiyya Alphabets:

أ - A

ب - B

ت - C

ث - D

ج - E

ح - F

خ - G

د - H

ذ - I

ر - J

ز - K