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Two Men, One Cage

A Story of the Mind

By Mila BedoyaPublished 3 years ago 14 min read
1

The day young Thomas met the faces of faded men, was the same day the young boy became a prisoner.

He did not know at the moment when the guards put him inside the cell, that it was a room that had been waiting for him all along.

“In you go and ever out” the guards said in mockery shutting forever the door behind him.

Thomas Lagrange had never felt so much fear. The kind of fear men could feel surrounded by giant white walls, the same ones that now surrounded him. From a small window, the moon filled the prison room as much as the window itself allowed it.

That night he felt cold like no other, fear like no other. He had in mind the faces of the men in that prison, that had looked at him straight in the eye and yet still, their eyes reflected no life. The men seemed lost, spiritless bodies that had long ago forgotten the warmth of the sun and the taste of laughter.

Young Thomas realized he would become one of those men. He would eventually and gradually drift away in this room, which was now his whole world and forget. Forget what life could look like outside that window that would never let him escape.

That night was dark indeed. For young Thomas Lagrange, the night had never met such darkness before.

Yet still, the dimmed light in the room showed him the unexpected. For the young boy’s surprise, this cold and grime room had an inhabitant, a roommate. An Old man who had not moved an inch since the boy was put inside the cell. If it was not for the pale brightness the moon provided that night, he would have not even been detectable. This Old man was camouflaged by his old white hair covering most of his face. He was a man covered in white hair, a man covered in years. His long white beard rested on his shoulder as he rested seated in his ancient bed, against the stained white wall.

Young Thomas was expecting for most of the night that the Old man might awake, but at some point through the night, he wondered if he was even breathing.

The room had given him his welcome. The dust had taken away the last taste of fruit his lips might have carried. He watched the stagnant man all that time, as a fact, young Thomas guarded him for most of the night. Yet, slowly, with the glow of the moon, he faded into sleep. Without wanting to, without expecting to. Remembering days of freedom and mischief of his young days that seemed for him to be over.

A breath or was it the warmth of the air? Young Thomas did not know what exactly was it that woke him up. Until the sharpness of his eyes finally came back with the outer light from that tiny prison window.

To his surprise, once again, he found the Old man awake. In fact, his face was just a few inches away from his. And with a little cat-jump, he became startled and realized he was now awake with the day.

“Good morning” said the Old man, showing a little smile on his own. A smile which showed no teeth but somehow made every wrinkle in his face smile with him.

The Old man laughed at the young boy's reaction and said:

"Oh please do not be afraid, just wanted to know who am I sharing the room with and how old" slowly crossing his legs to sit on the filthy bed.

Whatever enthusiasm the Old man was intending to share, the young boy did not share it. Instead, he stayed immobile in his bed, almost petrified, not knowing if to answer normally or hide under the bed.

The Old man could see that he carried fear in his eyes, so he slowly hid away his smile and took a book from under his mattress and opened it before him. It was a black covered book that appeared even older than the Old man himself. Young Thomas wondered how the Old man could have managed to hold such a thing in a prison room. He thought perhaps the Old man was an intellectual, a well educated man. In doing so, the Old man looked at his book and started humming joyful unknown melodies.

The young criminal stayed silent, and from the opposite bed to the old man's, he wondered what brought him so cheerful. He was timid and overwhelmed by his childish crime, by the time he would face inside this prison. Nevertheless, he did not want to reject the only person in the room, that was now their world.

Thereupon, with abundant curiosity the boy dared to ask:

“What is that you’re reading?”

The Old man laughed.

Consequently, the boy timidly asked again.

“Or is it that you’re drawing?”

The Old man continued to laugh for short and then said:

“I write.”

The young boy nodded in understanding. Thinking what to ask next.

However, the Old man then continued.

“I write. And I draw. And I read. And I paint. And I talk. And I sing. And I dance. And sometimes I fly, sometimes I swim. Most times I explore and admire. And sometimes I find.”

Young Thomas looked in confusion. He did not understand what the Old man meant.

The Old man, realizing the confusion of the young man went ahead and said:

"Tell me, what do you want to see?"

The young man not knowing what to say, stayed silent. What did that question mean? He thought. Their world was cold and colorless, there was nothing else to see. But in curiosity and lack of comprehension, the boy waved his shoulders in search of other questions.

"I have stories that want to be heard, if you want to hear them. It only depends where you want to be, who you want to be and hear about" said the Old man with an almost invisible smirk.

The young criminal having so many questions in mind, he asked the most peculiar of all. The one that he solemnly could not understand.

"You said you explore and admire.. but also that you find.”

"I did. I do" said the old man.

"What is it that you find?" Thomas finally asked.

The Old man gave a smile throughout his thoughts and inner navigations. "Anything,” he said. "Anything and everything you may find outside of this prison. Everything is in here" pointing to his old little black book.

Thomas proceeded to keep his confused glance.

The Old man then continued: "Tell me, have you seen the sky, seen the sea?"

"I have" said the young man caught by a glance of melancholy.

"Then you know. Tell me, what did you see?". Asked the Old man.

Boy waved his shoulders up and down again this time nodding his head to the sides slightly. He then said: "I saw the water... clouds sometimes. I saw seagulls flying..." He said in pure simplicity.

The Old man laughed loudly this time. "If you were in front of it, it is because you Saw it, for real" he said. "There’s much more to see that the eye can catch. We can see essence, we can see power, we can see movement. In every dimension that we can inhabit, we can see everything.”

Young Thomas was concerned with how greatly the man spoke of those things. He started to be conscious of the images and memories he had stored, realizing his way of recalling them was quite trivial.

Giving him a moment of silence, the old man tried again. "So then, tell me now, shutting the limited view that the judgment of your eyes might have given you. Tell me what you saw."

The young boy scavenging for memories of blue days that were now gone, he blurred his eye sight timidly and started to transcend through time. He started to remember.

Shaking from the memories in front of him, he said shutting his eyes. "I saw... I saw the blue sky changing. I saw the wind running on my skin, saw the excitement of the birds, their excitement to be flying above such green hills. I saw the aroma of close by flowers embrace me, kiss me and then leave. I saw brightness like no other..." Searching for the right expression to come out of his lips while his memories filled his whole mind. He stopped for a few seconds and then said, "I saw freedom and warmth.”

Carrying those memories to the prison room, he carried on with silence and closed eyes to keep the memories to stay for a little longer.

The Old man hiding a smile and somehow expanding great satisfaction in his eyes, he approached the young man from his bed and asked: "Are you there right now?"

The young man slowly opened his eyes in realization of where he was. Showing a little smile he said "I am.”

The Old man smirked back and replied with: "Me too. If you tell me more, we can go anywhere you choose, together.”

That day inside of their prison room, young Thomas Lagrange became a handful of things. He shared memories of being a kid and seeing the world from below countertops. The Old man told him the story of the Wild Monkey which traveled along the seven seas on whale backs and found treasures to not believe. He told the young man about the colors of the sky he once saw, all aligned with the sun and the moon. He described how, in his travel days, saw sand mountains move and cross the desert at twilight. How Mercury, the Planet, came to him once in a dream and invited him to stay for longer than he expected.

The days passed like shadow dancers. The Old man showed Thomas how to draw birds that could actually fly. Showed him the craft of the feet, and how they have their own desires to jump and dance.

Story after the other, young Thomas, spent his days in the white prison learning to dance to unknown symphonies, ones that could become so loud in his spirit.

Every night, he would work on a story to tell the Old man. While this one would take him on a voyage through planets not him or anyone had ever heard of before. The Old Man would hide his old black little book between the sheets and wait until the rise of another window sunlight. With big smiles containing laughter, they rested in their beds at the darkest point of the night and drifted away to other dimensions.

The mornings at that prison room were immaculately alive. With each breeze they would get, they imagined themselves to be in the back of gigantic eagles swinging through the skies. In times of rain they were survivors in the middle of the oceans sharing the last boat afloat. And they danced until their breath became feeble and the occasional guard would pass by, closely by the door.

The days became years of adventure. Of falling in love and recalling what a princess might look like. Nothing in this world was bigger than the prison cell of young Thomas Lagrange and his roommate, the Old man.

One day, while Thomas was waiting for the Old man to wake up, he worked up his story. That day, it was about a lonely man in the desert who built a tower so tall and great, when he reached the last floor, he accidentally awoke the stars. Yet unexpectedly, he waited and waited for him to wake up without success.

Surprisingly indeed, when he approached his bed, he found the Old man softly mourning.

“I thought you were still dreaming of Mercury” he said at the shock of seeing the young boy awake, coughing with a heavy throat.

Young Thomas’ glance turned sad at the view of the Old man, but answered with the hope of cheering him up. “I did. I dreamed with Mercury, she took me through her rivers and mountains, they were so different from the ones here.”

“She?!” The Old man asked in shock, letting a laugh escape him through his loud coughing. “I wish I would have talked to her more.”

Young Thomas shared a smile at the remark but his concerned regard showed again.

The Old man stayed quiet for a few seconds and then said:

“I never asked you. Why are you here, as young as you are? What crime was it that led you to our room?”

Thomas looked down in what he could describe as shame. All the same, he said:

“I fell in love with a girl.”

“Oh, that explains it.” Said the Old man.

Laughing silently at the Old man’s pleasantry, he then continued.

“I promised her many things. I did not have money of my own... so I took it.”

The Old man nodded a few times scratching his beard. And then slightly tilted his head and asked: “How much” showing a smirk.

“Twenty thousand pieces.” The young boy said.

The Old man replied with a nod and no further questions seeing how the young boy’s reaction was bringing such misfortune.

Just when young Thomas wondered how the Old man was feeling, this one stood up rapidly and said:

“Right! The sun is here! Where shall it take us next?” When suddenly, he faded into the floor with his palms touching the dirt.

Young Thomas flu to his support and aid. The Old man, raising his head to thank the young boy said, “I better.. I better hear what you have to tell me first.”

The young man was concerned as ever but he could not think of a better way for the man to rest, than to hear a story. And so, he did, he told his story and many others until night fell on their shoulders. Along with the Old man, young Thomas unhurriedly fell asleep at the image of one of the stories he was telling. Both with a smile on their face.

When the sun rose, the wind entered the cell and touched young Thomas in the cheeks. And to its touch, he awoke. Eyes still heavy, the image of the Old man sitting on the floor against the wall came through his sight.

The Old man, holding the black book he so much adored, was restful at last. Eyes closed, with a wrinkled smile no one could take away anymore.

He knew that morning that the Old man had finally escaped the prison and had gone with the Sun.

He took the book from the hands of the Old man and opened it. He saw drawings of birds, of trees and women dancing. He saw far away planets and the enormous eagles they liked to fly on. Stories with no end and some with no beginning. He read them all again and again. Until he reached the last page and read:

‘I sold all my belongings and went with the wind. One of those days, he took too far away from the home I once knew. I was caught doing a fool’s crime. Regardless, I kept my bounty in abundance with me, somewhere the wind could not take us away anymore. So, I leave it to you, young boy. You have so many things yet to discover in this big world of ours. So many adventures I did not get to hear from you. Do not become grey like these walls could become to others. Hopefully, one day you can escape somewhere far away, no one has ever seen, where no one will ever catch you. My treasure to you, may it take you where you desire to be.’

Young Thomas found stuck to the last page a bunch of bills of a thousand pieces each. Once he turned them to the opposite side, he saw written all the stories the old man and him told to each other.

On the last bill he turned, he saw a prison room drawn. With two beds opposite to the other and two prisoners sitting on them, with the words “Our Big World of Free Men” written below.

Young Thomas continued to read the last written sentence the Old man ever wrote on the last page of his book.

‘Take yourself to every place you wish to be. And then tell me…

What do you see?’

friendship
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About the Creator

Mila Bedoya

I write sporadically. I write freely.

I’m a silent storyteller.

Hoping I can discover other worlds and welcome others to mine.

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