Black Tie

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  Entry #4

  They said I was perfect. They said they were waiting for me to arrive. They said the preparations had already been made. They said my body was now their body. They said my soul was now their soul. They took me in the night. They gave me my journal. They said write. So I’m writing. They’re animals.

  Entry #5

  I've been a prisoner of the sisters for six days now. The blinding fear has subsided. I sit quietly in my cell, huddled naked next to the candle. They told me I must write, if I do not write I will not survive. Occasionally a muffled whisper sneaks into my cell. A cry of agony from another prisoner? The hysterical laughter of my two crazed captors? Who could tell? They said they won't read it till it's done. They said the journal was for me, not them.

  Entry #6

  The first four weeks of my imprisonment were spent in isolation. I can't tell the sisters apart, they are identical. They aren't separate people; they act as one mind in two bodies. Their precision and efficiency in their experiments is remarkable. With the care of a surgeon they remove a small sample of blood from me every day. "This is your first purpose here." She waved the vial of blood in front of me. Drawing blood takes only a few minutes but I remain bound to the chair in the laboratory for hours. "We don't just need you to stay alive; we need your mind to stay intact." They buzz about the lab with some unknown purpose fueling them.

  Entry #7

  I still haven't spoken. I'm not sure what I would even say. They have made it clear that they decide if and when I find out information related to my capture. Part of me curses my foolishness for being captured. How simple it would have been to write a letter to my professors or my family telling them where I was or what I was doing. I may have been captured but at least I would have the comfort of knowing I was being looked for. Another part of me, a darker part of me ... a part that hadn't existed in me until now, wants to know their purpose. What are they up to? Why do they need my blood? Why do they need my mind?

  Entry #8

  My body has grown frail. The rations are of poor quality and insufficient quantity. My motionless existence has turned a strong back and sturdy legs into the soft flesh of a rotting apple. My bones felt brittle, I've been here for half a year now. Wasting away. I'm constantly being sampled, blood, hair, skin, feces, urine, semen, it didn't matter to the sisters, their purpose was unshaken by cumbersome morals or ethics. They were ruthlessly efficient.

  Entry #9

  How long have I been here? Could it be a whole year? "You've stopped writing haven't you?" they asked me. Well they weren't really asking me, I wasn't there, I was hiding in the corner watching two jackals converse with an empty husk. They stood there oblivious, I tried to muffle my giggles, for a moment, they were duped. One sister grabbed the husk's chin, the other turned to my corner. "You need to start writing again, double rations if you write tonight." I was back in the husk, just a hollow shell of man. I write for food.

  Entry #10

  "Your mind is about to be broken," they told me. I looked at the sisters with defeated eyes. For the first time I spoke and asked, "What do you want with me?" They responded quickly and calmly, as if I commonly asked questions of them. "Simple, we want the power that drives life, and we'll do whatever it takes to get it. Tonight you'll write your last entry, you won't die tomorrow, but you won't be able to write further. Our tests are complete and we are going to move ahead with the procedure tomorrow." She held up a strange metal object. It looked like the bones of some bizarre iron snake. "This is going on you tomorrow." I stared at it perplexed. I still cannot fathom what it does. My imagination is running wild with painful and demonic surgical procedures involving the strange object. Tonight is the last night I'll be able to write. I wish I wrote more. I'm curled next to my candle reading my past entries. I've accepted my unknown fate already, but acceptance is not peace. I despise the sisters. They are worse than evil, they are indifferent.