When Synapses Go Bad

You will tell us what we need to know. You will cry out all of your secrets, day and night, you will!
Said Seargant Nakimo…

This type of interrogation went on all hours of the day and night giving us the opportunity to “cry out” just as the Seargant said we would.

My turn had come and gone and come again. Frankly I was too dazed and exhausted to really feel the full impact of this mistreatment at the hands of our Japanese captors. To say it was brittle was, hah… well, it was quite an understatement. Sometimes it seemed actually harder to watch other prisoners undergoing the torturous “guestioning” techniques than experiencing them myself first hand. Being able to see your buddies stretched out till their limbs burst from their sockets or buried up to their necks in sand, sugar cane spread over their head and face attracting ants, scorpions and all manner of vicious vermin to nibble away at eyes, nose and ears, the tender morsels they offered as a meal.

The fear produced from watching these horrific events at times made it way more difficult to keep quite when your turn came. Trying to hold on to your own secrets became well, became very challenging to say the least yes, very challenging indeed.

“No, no! I have no idea of invasion schedules. Troop strength? No sir sir, my rank, I, I just was not privy to, I mean, my need to know was not at that level. I have no information about that sir. What?! No!”

And on and on it went, day and night, night and day, just as they said it would. Eventually, we all gave up our secrets until they were secrets no more. Of course so much of the time we came to realize that what we held as precious secrets, guarding them with our very lives and oft times losing those lives to protect this vital information, these were not secrets at all, for the masters of interrogation already secured this knowledge from other prisoners and other sources, indeed.

When I was left alone with my thoughts I remember revisiting the likes of Edgar Allen Poe, and his tales of dark mystery and woe, The Tell Tale Heart being one of my favorites. I recall thinking in the dark dampness of my pitiful hole called home, why this tale holds no greater horror than my present state, old Poe must take second fiddle to this experience, in fact, he can move to the back of the line for his telling provokes fear only in one’s imagination while this, huh, well this is the real thing mind you. That’s right. No matter what fear the mind would conjure up when your turn came again as it surely would, your fear would know no bounds, experience no limits.

YOU were held captive while your FEAR was set free-free to explore the unlimited facets of one’s mind that spilled out, tumbling before your captors eyes, free -free for all to see.

~ by Vinnie on June 23, 2015.

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