Sun bleached walls of stone towered above the many inhabitants, forming a small relief from the sweltering sun. Many of the occupants were restless, starved with thirst and little to no sleep. Those that were brought in off the streets submitted to the heat well before their time of freedom. No, if you were not born within those cold walls, you’d most certainly die there; least they have pity on you.
I was one of the “lucky” ones; one of their favorites I guess you could say. Perhaps it was my willingness to fight or the many years I had spent inside that hard cell. The spectators never saw inside our walls, but I did; every single day. I knew nothing more about the world outside my enclosure and though some may say I was much like an animal in a cage, it was in fact my home. It was my comfort zone. I knew what was expected of me, what I needed to do for my daily meal . . . for nourishment and sometimes even compassion.
Grant it, the latter did not come often and much of the time it was more awkward and uncomfortable than I would have liked. However, any reason to see the lives outside those walls was good enough a reason for me.
To be truthful, the lives of my superiors and their spectators interested me greatly. Once a fight was over, my opponent’s blood on my hands; where did they go? Did they have a cell much like mine? Could they speak? Had they fought as I did day after day? It was something my thoughts milled over more often than I’d ever like to openly admit.
However, when you do not understand most of the words being spoken around you, you are left with just your thoughts and the silence that follows. I never got tired of them though, as odd as that may seem. I always found a way to plan out someone else’s life. Perhaps it was a spectator I had seen watching me fight earlier that day. They would enter my thoughts and I would follow them to their home. I would spend mealtime with them, maybe even learn something about them.
Each time I opened my eyes, I was back in my cell; my home. However, do not fret for me, as it was the only life I knew. Much like your own life, I dreamed of what could be if I were born into another life. Perhaps it was what you call jealousy, but how badly I wanted to share that happiness I could see in their eyes.
How I longed for the freedom to mock others, just as they mocked me. However, I never blamed them for that small thrill. I assured myself many times that it was all they ever knew. I brought them happiness and sometimes even tears of mirth. I could have never stolen those emotions away from them.
Ahh, but what does it matter? We each have our place and in those walls is where I belonged. I accepted this and soon I’d find myself awake, getting ready for yet another fight.
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