Out Of The Pitch by Dave Semple at Inkitt

Summary

Kidnapped. Held hostage. Not sure why or who your captors are. Alone in a cell with no human contact. Complete darkness. There is no light. No day nor night. How will you survive? "Out of the Pitch" is an exploration of memory as a middle-aged man finds himself held captive in the pitch darkness of a cell. He has no recollection of his abduction. He cannot fathom why he has been taken prisoner. His abductors have no contact with him other than providing him with food and water when he falls asleep. He is isolated and deprived of his sense of sight by the blackness of his cell. To preserve his sanity, he turns to his memories to keep him company as he tries to both figure out why he has been abducted, and plan for his opportunity to escape. The chapters fall as a series of dominoes as events in his present circumstance trigger memories of the past; those memories, in turn, inform his possible future. Yet, those same memories also become his nemesis as he realizes the fluidity and fickleness that is memory. He comes to question his own existence for, if he is the sum of his experiences, his stories, and he comes to see how untrustworthy his memories truly are, then what does that make him?

Genre: Drama

Author: Dave Semple

Status: Complete

Chapters: 72

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 18+

Chapter 1

From a church balcony on Christmas Eve… gradually, a memory emerges… a minister, wearing a robe adorned with a festively embroidered stole, moves slowly from the pulpit below me towards the congregation, a shoe box in each extended hand. She removes the lid from the first box… the darkness released from within has no effect on its surroundings. Light fades to nothing… now the sanctuary is in total darkness. As she slowly lifts the lid from the second box the gleam from a hidden flashlight effuses, highlighting her face like a figure in the dramatic illumination and shadows of a Caravaggio masterpiece. A tenebrism from long ago, from far away. I don’t remember the sermon or the carols, but I do remember the image: two boxes, the darkness, the light bursting forth.

What I wouldn’t give right now for that second box. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been wrapped in the darkness of this cell. I’m not sure I’ll ever see light again. I’m not even sure I want to, knowing what I now know.