The Rat Tunnels of Isfahan

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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I wasn't crazy. Not like most of the tortured souls I shared the prison with. Some wandered, muttering and bumping into walls. Some sat unmoving for hours, staring into a darkness even the desert sun couldn't penetrate, their eyes seeing but not seeing, ears hearing but not listening. And a sad few would break; they would weep, and rock, and cry out. These were the broken: shuffling from place to place, barely eating, barely drinking, numbly watching the flesh drip from their bones, oblivious to the blood slowing in their veins.

feel

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this novella from the author in exchange for my honest opinion – and I'm glad he gave it to me, because I wouldn't have heard of it otherwise.