'I know that I will never get away from here, that I will never see my mother and father again. This missive is for them, to tell them of the horrific events that have befallen me since I was cruelly taken from them, snatched as I returned to school. Or maybe this tale is for my liberators, or is it for my torturers? Maybe it is for me, a way of trying to keep myself alive. If I am writing then I am alive. It will mean that they haven’t killed me yet, even although I know they will...
(miro then writes about narcisse's abduction and the few days in a half way house with a hundred or so other boys, then of the selection process and the long journey to the castle.)
...Late one evening we awoke to the sound of wood crunching and breaking, men screaming, horses going mad, the sound of crates and boxes falling and crashing over the edge of the pass. The road had become rougher, more perilous, and our caravan slowed to a crawl as the incline beneath us rose ever higher. Just as I thought we would surely come to the edge of the world and fall over, the ground beneath us levelled and the sound of the cartwheels altered as we crossed a wooden bridge. It seemed that we were almost floating in the air, for there was nothing other than this bridge and the clear sky as we journeyed forward. The wooden bridge ended but the ground we settled on remained flat, as the horses came to a final stop. We had arrived at the Castle of Silling.
When the tarpaulin was removed I finally realised how impossible our plight was; there would be no escape. All of the carts, sixteen in total, had been brought into an internal courtyard within the castle, carrying supplies and furnishings, food, ottomans, tapestries, women, men and girls. High above the roofs of the grand house I could see impossible crags rise into the clouds, as if the house was built in the centre of an enormous crown of jagged stone with no breach in the encircling wall. The henchmen who had been tending to us untied our bindings, and some of the girls jumped down from their cars and ran around the enclosed square, hysterically crying and banging their fists against the impenetrable walls of the châteaux. One of our captors, the master of the house, Durcet, roared with laughter, letting the sorry creatures carry on until he finally cried,
‘Oh someone stop them! I want their hand’s to be unblemished when they frigg me, at least for a few weeks. There will be bruises and lacerations a-plenty later!’
(miro, as narcisse, then goes on to tell us about how the house is set up, where everyone is to sleep, of the rules they are to follow by durcet, the master of the house. he tells us of the initial harsh treatment of the boys he shares a large room with. he is still bashful and tries not to use obscenities. this quickly shifts (as he is abused and the reader is groomed'), and the first chapter ends with the end of the first day.)
...The storyteller began her lewd tale, a story of her selling herself to priests for money, letting them frigg themselves over her and pissing on them just as they discharged. It was during this repulsive reverie that the Bishop became angry and aroused and pulled hard at my tether, dragging his niece and myself into his alcove to further debauch us. Julie was already naked but I was dressed as a savage in a tattered goatskin vestment that stopped at my naked hips, which he quickly ripped off. He conspired to make Julie and myself piss over his prick as he worked it, but I was empty, having filled my chamber pot earlier without thought. Oh, how he raged and railed, slapping me on the face and buttocks, before pulling me back out the niche with my hair and throwing me onto the floor before his raised seat, cursing me.
I was told I would be punished later in the week and I knew it would be severe. The story ended and I was taken out of the hall by Antonious, thrown into a closet where I remained until the morning.
The End of the First Day
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