Disclaimer: these stories are a work of fiction.
The cell is tiny. Only three feet deep, three feet wide, three feet high. A meter in each dimension.
You can sit with your knees drawn up to your chest, but there isn’t enough room to stand up, or to fully lie down.
And the cell is completely empty. There is only the stone floor, the stone walls, the stone ceiling.
Naked, you slide in, the cold stone harsh against your skin.
With a massive grinding rumble, the fourth wall slides into place, trapping you within.
You’re plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness, unable to see anything at all. You can open or close your eyes, or wave your hand in front of your face, and it makes no difference.
Aside from a faint whisper of air flowing through a couple of finger sized holes, the cell is entirely silent.
You can scream, if you wish, but no one can hear you.
How long can you stand being entombed?
A minute?
Five minutes?
…ten?
The seconds crawl by like hours.
And then, eventually, finally, after an eternity, the fourth wall grinds back. Light floods the cell. You’re released.
Usually.
Almost certainly.
Nearly always.
Only one time in a thousand does the other wall grind open instead.
And then you emerge into another world.
Carrying nothing with you. No possessions, no connection to the past, nothing you had before with you now.
A world with different rules. Different practices. Different morals.
Unknowable.
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