Ransom

Written because I woke from this dream, sweating and dizzy.

I awake in a prison cell next to a man with no arms and no legs on a cot. He is face down in a bowl of porridge, gorging himself. I twist and claw at my back, desperately scratching. Why are you here? I didn’t pay the ransom, he said, and continued eating, limbless and hungry. I walk out of the cell to see others standing under a massive steaming shower, naked, their backs bleeding like mine from the shoulder blades. The warden takes a scythe from the wall and the prisoners hold out limbs for him to remove. They shower again, armless, legless, singing hymns. Through another door they are wheeled, into a woodshop where they are fit with wooden replacements. A manicurist for the limbless paints their wooden nails, as they sing. They stand on new legs, and greet me with new arms, still singing. The warden turns and sees me. I escape and bolt the door behind me, the itch on my back becoming unbearable. I reach around again, scratching, back bloody, door thundering, until wings… I sprout wings. Down comes the door, and the wooden soldiers advance. I stretch my wings and run at them. I have to get enough speed to lift off the ground. I’m up. My ankles fill with splinters from their hands. The warden slices the air. Takes off a toe. I hit the ground. Wooden men surround me. I start running again, wings beating, legs burning. I think I’m flying.