"The Water Experiment " by Braden B

I have been here for six days. No one here has ever made it past seven days. At least that is what they told me as they tied the weights to my legs. I do not know who I am or how I got here if I am being honest. The last thing that I can truly remember is waking up to a blinding light. A blinding light followed by the sound of a door closing. Then the weights. Oh, these miserable, miserable weights that are tied around my ankle. I am unable to move any longer. Every now and then I would be able to move with these weights. But not any longer. Not on the sixth day of this horrible experiment. All I can do is lay here. Lay here and stare at the glass of water that will set me free. When they tied these weights to my ankles they placed a glass of water on a white pedestal. A white pedestal, in a white room. A white pedestal with a glass of water on it. A glass of something that I have not had in six days. I am dying of thirst. I am sure that everyone else died of thirst too. Those skeletons are probably people who died of thirst. White bones, in a white room, with a white pedestal with a glass of water on top of it. And all I can do is lay here. I can't even cry at this point. I have no water left inside me. No tears would come even if I wanted them to. I wish they would come. I could drink them. Sweet, sweet water. But alas. I will die here. I will die here just like everyone who had to endure this before me. The nameless person who made it to seven days. I feel sorry for that person. Seven days in here. Seven days in a white room. Filled with white bones. With a white pedestal with a glass of water on top of it. A glass of water that sits merely a few feet outside my grasp. A glass of water that I am sure sat just merely a few feet from most people's grasps. But all those people, just like I, end up as skeletons. I can see their bones. All the white bones. And I am scared. I do not want to die. But I fear it is inevitable. I will become a skeleton and the next person with these miserable, miserable weights tied to their ankles. They will lay here looking at my white bones, in this white room, with a white pedestal with a glass of water on the top. The glass of water that they were told if they could retrieve, they would be set free. I wish for that water now for so many reasons. I don’t want to die. I want that glass of water. I want to leave this miserable room. With its miserable white walls. I want to go anywhere else. And yet I can not leave. No matter how much I want to. I will die here. And that is that. I close my eyes. And as I close them, I see the most joyous thing I have ever seen. A room made not of white but rather of black. And as I slip further into the black room I feel nothing. I am at peace.