It's Like The Bloody Inquisition! by Rich Mills

He couldn't understand why someone would do such a thing! It definitely seemed however, that somewhere someone must have told someone else something about him. Something that wasn't really anyone else's concern. Then again interfering in the lives of others was a deeply annoying trait we were all guilt of. Hermit's were the only people who didn't hold with such feelings of guilt. Everyone else guilty as charged! Roy knew that there had been lies told about him. The simple fact that he was almost sure he hadn't done anything wrong, or done anything at all just recently. That way he'd figured that he could stay out of trouble, remain unnoticed in the crowd. Slow-witted fool that he was, he now realised that by not doing anything, by remaining inactive and inert he'd been a sitting-duck. And this all meant that him being here in this situation was someone else's doing. His fault, he didn't grumble about that. Lived by the philosophy of when they've got you bang-to-rights, then you should 'fess-up. Otherwise you make a fool of yourself, in trying to make fools of others.

He'd missed breakfast this morning due to an early visitation, something that had not ever happened previously. Well not of this kind anyway, as the morning glory he encountered each time he rose from his slumber, was as regular as that first cuppa he looked forward to. He had been laying in crumpled bed waking up to a crisp new day, when the inquisitor entered the room. He had knocked before coming in, but it was only a symbolic request for access, he was crossing the threshold un-invited or not.

The man that presented himself to Roy, there in his cramped and crusty little bedroom, was slender in frame. The over-sized Mac he had wrapped around him clung to the angular framework of bones underneath. The way this man was dressed was not for any form of fashion, Roy thought. The fashion police would have shot this man on sight. This figure was above such things, this was a garb designed and wore for purely utilitarian reasons. He wore this uniform so as to be uniform. However what those reasons of overriding practicality actually were didn't seem immediately apparent to Roy. The whole make-up of this man didn't sit well with his immediate instincts, and he wanted answers to the questions that were forming.

"Who the fucking hell are you?" Those words can't of come out of his mouth. Roy was sure he'd just even asked a question of this man, as he'd just ignored him and glided nearer to Roy as if no barrier of sound had emanated from Roy's direction at all.

"Get up you're coming with me." He hadn't spoke he'd commanded. Roy wasn't even sure he heard anything or is was a command from deep inside. He knew though what this man wanted. So without further discussion he climbed out of bed, dressed, and followed the man to wherever he maybe lead.

Collage courtesy of Rich.

It's Like The Bloody Inquisition! (contd) by Rich Mills

He'd just gone along with it, why he didn't know. How he'd actually got where his was he didn't know. How he'd got there had a large blank in the middle. What he was aware of was the imposing size of the state-grey room he was sat in. The ceiling was dizzily high, and there were no windows and oddly no obvious door either. Another thing he became aware of was time, or moreover the sense that he didn't have the slightest clue as to how long he had been in this room, or for how long the inquisitor had been reeling off question after question without a moment of respite.

The thrower of all these questions that had come so far jerked his head back as the interrogation suddenly spun round and shone the light into his face. Roy felt a moment of control over the situation he found himself in. His grey eyes glared back at Roy with a dilated delight. He loved a fight, there was no fun in his victims just giving up the lot immediately, he'd liked to drag them through each painful step with as much torturous horror and revulsion as possible.

Roy however thought at once, that he had better not make this guy mad. It was stupid in the extreme to poke a stick in the hornet's nest. As with the ever rising thread that circled itself around Roy, he couldn't help but give it a go. Power was definitely in the hands of the master nevertheless, he didn't want to bate a trap that he himself may end up falling into.

The Inquisitor smiled a half, half-second smile, and said, "Don't you find questions... interesting?" Leaning forward he fixed Roy with his steely eyes, "Don't you find great pleasure in being able to answer questions?" He lent back, quiet again for a moment, almost appearing to slip into a trance like state of open acceptance   Waiting   And waiting. He sat very still, not moving, without blinking and without appearing to breath... He waited   And he waited.

By the time Roy had finished explaining his doughnut theory of the universe, the day had slipped past them both equally, un-noticed and without major revelation. Roy had coughed the lot, all his thoughts, all his dreams, everything he could dredge up had spilled out of his mouth. In completing his verbal panorama, he hadn't really noticed whether the Inquisitor was actually listening, he didn't really give a shit. The Inquisitor still, didn't move, he hadn't moved from beginning to end. Not a flicker, as though he had heard it all before. The lack of reaction depressed Roy, as the sun rose over a new day a womb like warmth crept into the room. Even without windows, the world beyond the grey-world carried on, and they felt its affects. Locked away from it all, it still imposed itself on them. No-one could remove themselves from its vice-like grip, we are all effected by the movement of others. Yet the Inquisitor sat cold and still, asleep with his eyes wide open, glazed and dry. Roy thought that even if he wanted to blink, surely there would be no way he could now. Any attempt to bring his eye lids together would be excrutiatingly painful. Blinking-hell   Just let me alone   For another two weeks   Please!

©  Rich Mills 2003

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