Vladmir

It is dark and loud inside this place. The brown soil is soft and moist, covered in shit; soiled hay soaked in urine is spread across the ground like a carpet of trash. The ceiling is made from warped and swollen wooden planks. The spaces between the wooden ceilings are wide enough to stick several fingers through. These spaces allow enough light through to glimpse at freedom. Freedom that is merely inches away. Freedom that is blocked and teasing, locking away nearly a dozen men. Man against nature.

Swollen wooden rotting planks, he said in a wretched tone of curses and blasphemy.

The condemned man looks up towards the ceiling and examines the guards clad in chain-mail and bastard swords. These soldiers dress in the red garments of the crown, silver helmets. Their soles of black leather impress shadows on the piss and shit which is his home beneath the planks.

Bastards, he says under his tongue.

The prisoner looks towards the other eleven convicts under the surface. All of them settling in their corners or propped against broken fences or chained torture devices long since rusted and forgotten. All the men under the floor shine like bright stripe patterns from the light through the spaces of the wooden bars.

All of them diseased or sickly, they all stare at one another with a soulless gaze. They stare a heartless and uncaring glimpse at the soldiers above. Waiting their turn to be seen and sentenced by the Church.

These cold hearted murderers and thieves.

The angry cursing creature of a man shakes his head and snarls back a terrible noise in the back of his throat. He hacks a thick green substance towards a wooden pillar, half torn down. The prison cellar resembles a cavern structure where animals went to die. Instead of animals these are forged abused, forgotten men.

This man is daunting, thick and heavy. He is unshaven and unclean. Dreadlocks of unwashed hair drop down his bare back. The man-creature's tunic had soiled long ago when he used to count the days of his penance.

He just waits here, half naked in the dirty cellar with his apostles. His bare back shows lashings, most of which were self induced. He smells like garbage and death – waiting for a glorifying miracle.

Vladmir was the name the guards above gave the monster. Vladmir was the name of a creature so terrifying and disgusting that even its mother rejected it. Vladmir, the damned, as legend went, ran far from home, intelligent and cunning, but lacking any social fortitude for survival. With the mind of a child, the creature explored without hesitation and often got itself into trouble.

One day Vladmir came across a damsel, pure and smooth, her bosom tight and her hinds cut and sculpted. The creature was instantly succumbed to the beauty before it, she whom bathed in a pond of crystal-like reflection. Her hair was brilliantly blonde, her eyes more blue that the heavens above. She was, to Vladmir, perfect in everyway.

The creature knew better. It knew that she would never accept the idea of living with it. Vladmir would have to take action without any help. The creature would make her love, force her to love. The monster planned out the kidnapping. She bathed twice a week in the pond, each week, Vladmir would be there, peering, eyeing her sweet body and yearning for her sex on its lips. The creature could taste her with the its long snake-like tongue. It drooled for her and dreamt of her each day until the moment it could strike.

As the story goes, Vladmir failed in kidnapping the girl. The monster was not prepared for her retaliation, her outrage. She was a strong woman and daughter to an Amazon tribe, birthed by a hardy farmer who was slain by cattle-thieves when she was young. Vladmir tried to retain her in its burly haunches, its thick log-like arms, and its massive overbearing bare chest.

The woman escaped and as Vladmir tried to grab at her, its fingers, like talons slipped into her back like a warm knife through butter. The back of her ribcage, each rib one by one, shattered and made a sound unlike the sound of music. A bellowing terrible wild scream of pain echoed throughout the forest as her blood and entrails poured into the pond. Vladmir knew not what to do and in its panic, tried to grab her closer. By the time she stopped struggling, the pond became deep red. The fish began to drown in what once was their water, filled now with the smell of iron and bitter taste. Her body instantly began to bloat with pond scum.

This man-thing under the cellar performed just such an act of barbarism. There would be no light for him. Imprisoned by the authority of God for the rest of his waking years. Cursed by many and damned to hell by the Catholic Church. This man was a walking reminder that even with enough penance and begging, salvation comes with a price and he could not pay the premium.

So now he stands here, growling, he has not spoken to any of his mates under the cellar. All he does is ramble about the his prophecies, his philosphies, his ambitions and duty to the cross. The other eleven in the prison curse at the beast. They move at will, unchained and unburdened by duty. The man-thing is shackled to the floor, immobile. He is often toyed with and tortured by the others, part of the beast's penance. So he makes himself believe.

They'll have their time, he says, his tiny yellow eyes narrow under his brow. God is on my side and I shall fear no one as I cross through the valley of death!