Posted by A Man sat in a spacious cell. What crime he had been imprisoned for, even he did not remember. All he knew was he needed to escape. The four walls were made of bricks, but they were old and decaying. One of the walls had a very wide window, but it was barred, and set too high for escape. The floor and ceiling were far apart, and made of sturdy cement. A bed was spread out next to the wall with the window, a small desk was on the opposite wall, and a stack of books lay on the desk. Everything was just right to keep someone a prisoner.
And yet the door was open wide. The key was always in the lock, and there was no guard outside. Nothing prevented the Man from leaving, but he remained within his cell. The Warden came by every day, telling the Man he was free to leave, that the price had been paid for his freedom.
But the Man was crafty. He did not trust the Warden. Did not believe there was anything outside the door besides a trap waiting to whisk him to some deep, dark pit where the light was cut off and the air was stale. The Man knew it would be foolish to take the bait, so he devised a cunning plan. He would escape through the walls. After all, the bricks were near to ruin already, it could not take long to break them down and be free.
So the Man dug at the walls. He scratched and scratched with what tools he could. When food came he would save the utensils. Knives would be dulled, forks bent, and spoons worn to the handles. When it was not yet time for food, the Man resorted to scratching with his own hands. He scratched, as though attacking an itch that he could not quite reach, and ran his fingernails ragged. Some days he would be rewarded with the slightest sliver of aged mortar, others just a red stain on the wall. But the Man knew he could not stop, he was so close to freedom.
So the days continued to pass, and the Man continued to work as the Warden continued to tell him he was free to leave. The books on the desk sat unopened even as the Warden brought new ones to remind the Man there was a life outside the cell. But the Man knew the Warden was only tying to make him complacent. To quash all thoughts of escape. And the Man was also afraid. Afraid that reading would reveal a better, easier way to escape, and invalidate his work on the walls. Stopping would be foolish when the Man was so close to escaping, and the Man was very crafty indeed.
And then, one day, the Man had a breakthrough. A brick was, at last, loose from the wall beneath the window. And so the Man took hold of it, and prised it from its spot. A sliver of light could be seen at last. The Man was overjoyed and put the brick on the desk. He could now show the Warden that he had found a way to leave. The Warden came by, and offered the Man his freedom again, and again the Man stayed in his cell, smiling to himself over his cleverness. He smiled at himself and stayed awake late into the night looking at the brick he had freed.
At last, however, the Man needed to sleep after his triumph. He slept, and awoke ready to free himself. But, alas! the hole had vanished. The Man slumped his shoulders, and then knelt to feel where the hole had been. The mortar was new, and stronger than ever. The Warden came by again, and the Man turned to him.
“What has become of the hole I had made?” the Man asked.
“The prison is always undergoing maintenance,” the Warden said. “Even if we do not request it, the repair team fixes any cracks and open spots. But, come! the way is open and your price has been paid! You need not fight on your own to get out. The door will be open when you choose to go.”
So the Man watched the Warden leave. The Man stared at his own, bloody, ragged hands and considered how else he could make his escape.