The Mermaid in the Basement
“The cell into which he had been thrust was no more than ten feet square. He had never been fettered in any way, and with each passing moment, the room seemed more and more like a square coffin. He had paced the rough stone floor for what seemed like hours, and time seemed to move slower than on the outside. Clive stopped, looked about the room wildly, and felt fear clawing at him like a live thing. The walls, made of uneven bricks, radiated a nigrescent gloom, illuminated only by a stub of a ca...ndle with less than an inch left. The pale flickering light did not even lighten the ceiling, which was some ten feet high.
Clive leaned against the rough wall and tried to stop the trembling in his limbs. The cell was bare except for a single cot with a fetid straw pallet and a single worn grey blanket. On one side was a wooden bench with a hole in it that obviously served the calls of nature. Beside the cot was a pitcher that held tepid water. The whole cell was rank, and Clive, who had always been hypersensitive to bad odors, had been almost overcome during his first hours there.MoreLess
Clive leaned against the rough wall and tried to stop the trembling in his limbs. The cell was bare except for a single cot with a fetid straw pallet and a single worn grey blanket. On one side was a wooden bench with a hole in it that obviously served the calls of nature. Beside the cot was a pitcher that held tepid water. The whole cell was rank, and Clive, who had always been hypersensitive to bad odors, had been almost overcome during his first hours there.MoreLess
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