The Best Cell in the dungeon

"Hello Victor. My name is Mr. Kerwin. I'm the town magistrate. I'll be conducting your interrogation. Wolf and Hamhand are our torturers. They'll be with you eventually. They're a little busy at the moment. I understand that until a few hours ago you thought you were in Scotland but let me assure you, you have sleepfloated into Ireland. 

Now all of our torturers speak only Gaelic, so you can rest assured that any of your oaths, vows, pleads, shreiks or deliriums will not be understood by anyone unless I happen to be in your presence and frankly, I've got other things to do. Believe me it's not easy running a three room dungeon in a town full of drunken Irishmen. 

I understand that you have wealthy connections in Geneva who are wondering where you disappeared. While we try to make contact with them, we plan on setting you up with the best room in the dungeon. Won't you come with me?"

Kerwin started down the hallway. Victor barely in control of his land legs wobbled behind the magistrate.

The first room we are passing is where Wolf and Hamhand are now working dilligently. I can tell that they are hard at work from the screaming and swearing that if you listen for just one second, you can probably hear."

Victor and Kerwin stopped outside the door. Victor indeed heard something. He couldn't understand any of the words but they didn't sound human although they were very impassioned.

"This is the room that we use for short term occupancy. We try to help our guests focus on their own pain and forget the indecipherable lies they're feeding us. We can usually convert a healthy, self confident suspect into a babbling, groveling, agony ridden non-entity in about a day or two depending upon how Hamhand is getting along with his wife Big Jane. Last night, Hamhand got drunk, came home late and head to sleep in the pigstye for example, so an awful lot has been accomplished today,

If you were to be in there today, even if you weren't hangin by your hair, I'm certain you would be quite distracted by all the smashing, thudding and subsequent pleading, oathmaking and confessions that fill the room. Furthermore, a certain breed of toad apparently attracted by the foul odor and opprerssive humidity has decided to use this place as a site of reproduction. Everywhere you look you would observe toad knots undulating in amphibious ecstacy and croaking with orgasmic delight until Wolf or Hamhand accidentally steps on them while dragging a suspect from one device to another. The sound of toad knots being squished under a babbling guest makes for a lifetime memory."

They walked further down the hall, that is if you can describe Victor's bumbling, stupefied perambulation as walking.

"The room we are now approaching is for our longer term inhabitants. We want these creatures to be less focused on their pain and more focused on the consequences of their behavior. At the moment, this room which was built to uncomfortably accomodate fifteen guests now includes somewhere around thirty. We don't keep a very good count. We tend to lose track and Wolf isn't the kind of man who keeps records of any kind. We put up with that deficiency on Wolf's part because of his enormous abilities in other more physical endeavors. If you end up here, the procedure is very simple. We'd open the door, beat off the pleading riff raff and throw you in. The space is what some might call an open concept. It has no furniture, no windows, no mattresses, no light. It's stifling right now and frigid in the winter. There you would stay until we decided to let you out. Once a month we turn on a light. Twice a week we throw down a kettleful of cold gruel. Every two months we remove any rotting corpses and break up a couple of pathetic brawls. Civil wars are common in this room. No side ever wins. Here is where they stay until we decide to let them out. Don't worry though, if you're like the rest....you'll lose track of time in about twelve hours; a week, a day, a month, a year, what's the difference? Water, oh of course, we dump several gallons of water into the room every day. Not a very pleasant place. I'm afraid."

They walked a bit further down the hallway,

"And now Victor, our pride and joy, the best cell in the dungeon. As you can see, we have no toads screwing in here. We keep the room well lit. We provide one relatively urine free cot and a bucket you can use to relieve yourself which we will replace every week or two. This room is off-limits to Wolf and Hamhand. We don't supply any books but the last few  occupants  have used the walls for some type of fecal self expression which perhaps you can amuse yourself with as you while away the hours until we get word from your connections in Geneva. You will be fed the freshest of gruel, the same gruel that Hamhand and Wolf sustain themselves with during their luch hour. And Victor, this room is all yours. Get in there."

Kerwin opend the door and pushed Victor inside. Victor spawled onto the cot where he passed out once again and continued to dream of his horrible secret...the monster and the senseless murder of his brother William, his best friend Henry and William's nanny Justine.