Day 69 of My Captivity
Although I am disillusioned, I'll continue to keep this diary. Deep inside, I nurture a hope that one day I'll escape, or be rescued. Should this ever come to pass, memoirs of my time in this hell-hole may prove invaluable. I will not rest until my captors are convicted and punished for the heinous crimes they have committed.
I remember the day this nightmare began. They looked so kind and innocent as they admired us. Then, the one that smelled o fresh flowers and raindrops said, "Isn't that little one pretty?"
Before I knew what happened I was plucked from my mother's grasp. Her cries and those of my siblings still haunt my dreams; not that I sleep much.
I was placed in a box and bundled onto the back seat of a car, which screeched away at breakneck speed -- or so it seemed. The container that I traveled in was sealed, so I had no idea where they were taking me. The journey seemed to go on forever. I was tired and scared, and I missed my family terribly.
And now I am here! They tell me I'm home. She carries me from room to room crooning and babbling. Heaven knows why. I have no idea what any of it means. I'm fed twice a day, although the menu is nothing compared to what my mom gave me. The lady's idea of dinner is some kind of dry nibbles that are revolting. They make me gag.
I observe my captors frequently dining on fresh meat and fish, while I am forced to digest this rubbish. Although I must eat something to keep my strength up, I regularly show my disgust by vomiting up on their plush beige carpet.
They have devised many different forms of torture. I'm not sure what information they want from me, because I have no idea why they brought me here in the first place.
I'm forced to sit on her knee while she rakes my coat with some kind of pronged device. This torture can go on for hours at a time. They also have another bizarre ritual of waving little bells or small fish on strings in front of me. I've no idea what they desire me to do. When I try to grab them, they pull them away, and my tormentors laugh at my frustration.
Lack of privacy is one of my biggest complaints. I have been provided with a tray half filled with pellets similar to those they expect me to eat. It sits in the utility room. I'm forced to use this dreadful contraption to relieve myself.
I know they have privacy for their own needs. The door to the little room is often bolted. However, when it opens and he emerges the smell that drifts out in his wake leaves nothing to the imagination.
I usually try to wait until after dark to go, and then I do my best to cover it. It's embarrassing to watch her clean up after me. I usually feign sleep and pretend not to see what she's doing.
Last night my captors watched their picture box. I saw somebody decapitate a large animal and place its head on a pillow as a warning. I tried the same thing this morning. I caught a nice juicy mouse and waited until she was propped up with her coffee before I deposited what was left of it in her lap.
She shrieked so loud that it was me who took off in terror. He was at her side in a moment scooping up my trophy. She smiled and said I was her brave little hunter; foolish woman!
They had visitors today, so I was placed in solitary confinement. I heard talk of allergies, and how some humans may be affected. I wonder what they are, these allergy things. Maybe if I had enough, I could use them and make my escape.
I'll finish this entry. It's been a long, day, and I need to preserve energy. I always try to stay alert in case a means of escape should present itself.
The visitors have gone and she is sitting on the sofa. I might curl up on her knee and allow her to stroke me. If I purr it created an illusion that I'm happy and content. Maybe they'll forget to close a window sometime.
She's tickling my ears and I'm purring. I'm trying to stop, but it's not easy. She smells so good and her hands are so soft.
"Goodnight pretty kitty," she croons.
Goodnight Mom..."
About the author
Lynda has been writing forever but only now trying to publish. Write short stories, and poetry and work on her book . She is a female living in Ireland with loads of time to really for the first time in her life write.
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