Morgue

The bars are like a spiders web. Thin, yet almost too strong to break. And, like a spiders prey, I am caught here in a web of misty terror. Once again referring to the arachnid, the spider is closing in on me. It is large, a fat black one with scarlet markings. But don't let me get off topic. It's up to you to keep me here and not to let me wander off, because I think I'm insane. But back to the purpose of this story ... the cage.1

I am trapped here in a spiders web contraption, like a mousetrap, but it doesn't hurt as mortally. This is immortal fear and pain, because I'll be here until I die. Just beyond the realm of terror, this trap, lies prosperity and immortality. Food and fine drink. But without nourishing food, which is lack here, I cannot break the bars. Every day, more and more food and wine, fruit juice, milk and honey. But without food, and it being so close, the bars become stronger as I am weaker. 2

If I live long enough, which is unlikely, the bars might rust, but, as I said before, everything is unlikeley.3