Please Don't Feed the Monkeys- Creative Writing

Please Don't Feed the Monkeys- Creative Writing
As I stare out of my cell at the keepers doing their rounds, I wonder for the hundredth time or so what would have happened if I had not left my home for a walk that morning six months ago. I would not have been kidnapped, never to see my family again, I would never have been thrown into this cell, three walls of which are bars a finger?s thickness and two finger?s width apart. I would be free to go where I want walk ; jump, run instead of being taken for ?walks? in the cement, high walled courtyard two times a day to ?stretch my legs?. I know for a fact that one of the reasons that they have the walls other than to stop us escaping is so that noone outside can see the horrible mutilations that have gone on inside our walled prison. One by one, all my companions have disappeared, and out of the fifteen that went, only three came back. One had had his arms and legs inverted, one has an extra hand protruding from his arm and the last can no longer talk, but barks and behaves just like a dog.
They have told me about the terrifying experiments the scientists did to them and probably will do again to me. I must escape from this cess-pit. They do treat us quite well, we are fed three times a day. I am a vegetarian so I do not mind that we only get fruit and vegetables, although my friends wish that they could have some meat. Although we all hate this prison where we are hidden against our will, I am the only one who wants to risk escaping and facing the wrath of the scientists. They are all especially scared of Charlie. Charlie? He is about middle-aged, and has got dark hair, or rather, had. He has a halo (although he could never be mistaken for an angel) of wispy graying strands above his ears, and other than that he is utterly bald. He had black eyes, as black as charcoal and whenever he gets angry they light up like fire and throw out sparks. He is very fat so when he gets excited or angry, his face goes red then purple, as if he were about to choke. Every time he does that, we all hold our breath and hope? We hope that he will choke to death then maybe we could live our lives in peace with nothing to worry about. We are all terrified of him :one of the reasons is because every time he appears in our cage room, it means that another one of us will be leaving, and if the experiment goes well, will come back ? But our life will be changed forever ;we will be monitored by the hour and given lots of different foods to see whether it causes any ill effect. The reason, I found, that we are hidden away like disused toys is because the government have forbidden any tests like this to be done. The tests are to find out whether it is possible to regenerate limbs after an accident has occurred. It has happened, but the limbs grow back in the wrong places. For example, instead of a hand growing back on the end of an arms, it would grow up and sprout out on top of the head, covered in hairs and be completely useless, deforming his head and untouchable. I need to get away from this torture palace before they do anymore experiments on me! So far, they have only done one, it was to find out whether an eye could be made to grow back, if the patient was injected with some drugs that speed up the re-growth and healing of tissues. At the moment, my eye is healing fast, all the scientists are excited as this will be their first successful experiment. All the while that I am in my cell I try and pass the time by doing different things. Sometimes I do acrobatics, to keep myself supple. I stare out of the window (through the bars, of course) and try and make shapes out of the clouds, I can get all sorts of animals, foods and a lot of banana shapes, as all long oval shapes look like bananas to me (remember that my eye is not yet fully healed and my eye is still quite blurred). But back to my escape, I plan it every night, I get fit, I become supple with all the acrobatics. All my friends here think I am crazy, they have given up hope and think that what I am doing is useless. I also play mind games; I try and calculate how long it would take me to get home, and how I can get out. I learn to tell the time using the positions of the shadows of the bars on the floor. When the shadows touch my bed in the far right hand corner of the cell, it is between nine and ten o?clock in the morning. When the shadows start to touch the door, it is midday and time for my ?walk?, when they creep slowly over to the bucket on the opposite side of my cell from my bed, which is supposed to be my toilet, it is nearing five-ish and time for my second ?walk?. The bucket. Disgustingly it is only cleaned out every other day, which makes all our cells stink day and night. One day, the keeper, after taking my bucket out to be rinsed and from the corner of my cage, forgot to lock the door after shutting it. I immediately saw my chance but decided not to act straight away. I waited until the rounds man had done his second run round the building , and then it was time to act. I had ten minutes until he came around again. Whispered goodbyes and good lucks rang in my ears as I quietly opened the door and crept along the passage that led to the walled courtyard. Now, every morning and every evening I had been staring at those walls, trying to see where I would be able to climb it easiest. I had discovered that on the north side, nearest the building there was a drainpipe connecting the roofs gutter system to the sewage pipes that run underneath our hidden warehouse/prison . The only problem is that Charlie?s room is right behind the drainpipe on the third floor. I had to try it, but if I do not manage it and make a loud noise, and he wakes up and sees me, Charlie will definitely have me terminated as a ?incurable case?. Hardly daring to breath, I hug the wall, hiding in the shadows . I have reached the pipe and I lift my leg to take the first sep, the one where if it happens, there is no going back. ?CLICK? Charlie?s light just went on. Startled, I just manage to stifle a cry. I stay, a stone statue, with one foot wedged between the pipe and the wall, for about quarter of an hour. Slowly I feel my confidence seeping back into me. I start climbing, being even more careful about not making a noise, if that were possible. Twice my hands became so sweaty that I had to wipe them one after another on my leg. After what seems like an hour, I get to the hardest part : getting past Charlie. Once more holding my breath, I grab hold of the window sill and swing myself, my whole weight being supported by just one arm, while my other seeks out the top of the wall. I feel it and grab it desperately, all the while letting go with my other hand and gripping the top of the wall tight with both hands. Slowly I pull myself up onto the top of the wall. I turn back for a last view of what has been my prison for the past seven months, and see all my friends reaching out with their arms and waving a last goodbye to me, wishing me luck. I twist myself and somehow manage to get over the wall. However, I had not thought about the drop on the other side of the wall, so I ended up tumbling down the 25 ft drop. Thankfully , there was an extremely mossy patch just where I landed. Stunned I stay there, on all fours, panting triumphantly. It is about 4am, and winter so the sun will not rise for about another three to four hours, but I must still hurry. I run, still on my hands and feet, so as to stay low. Four nights later I am so tired and hungry, I feel almost prepared to let myself be captured again. But I must keep on, and get away, not only for me, but for all those who are still stuck back there. My eyesight is almost completely healed, I can read the signs that I keep going past. I started off somewhere near Manchester, and as I speak I shuffle, always in the shadows, past the sign that says ?Welcome to Taunton!? It is only half an hour until sun up, I had better find somewhere to hide. I noticed a shack, out on the corner of a supermarket, I stroll over there, hoping I look normal, and open the makeshift door. As I walk in and my eyes grow accustomed to the dingy light, I notice two tramps in the corner. As soon as they see me looking at them ,one screamed and as if that were a signal, they both jumped up and bolted for the door. I do not mind, the company would have been great but to have the whole shack to myself is just as nice. I stretch out and immediately fall asleep. Sirens and shouts wake me up, and the shack shudders. Afraid I run for the door and look. There is a grey van parked nearby and a crowd of people surrounding it. About 300 yards away a man with a shotgun comes closer and closer. With a cry I leap outside and start running away. Simultaneously, the crowd gasps. The man shouts at them to stay back, that I could be dangerous. I can run fast, faster than I ever could before, thanks to my training back in the cell. But not fast enough. I heard a loud pop and at the same time, or so it seemed, I feel a sharp pain in my left leg, just above the knee. Suddenly, I feel sleepy, so sleepy? I just want to go to sleep, but can?t I just lie down, just for a second? NO! I must keep running. But I?m so? I can feel myself falling?falling? I tumble to the ground. I am scared, I can think, and hear, and see but I can?t move even a muscle? what have they done TO ME??? Two men come forwards and unceremoniously bundle me into the grey van. It has come to this. I am to be taken back to the lab, and will be terminated? But we do not go back, we drive fro about two hours, and then I am carried gently into another cell, this time it is bigger. The bars are about a hand?s width apart, but there is absolutely no way I could get out. I have a place to walk, whenever I want, my food is topped up constantly and soon my eyesight is perfect. There are others here, all have a large cell and a little garden. We are surrounded by signs, there is one on each cage. This has our details, and medicine that we need. Also we have the amount of food that we eat on average each day. There are signs saying things like: ?Please watch your head, steps!? ?Floors cleaned twice a day, slippery ground.? ?Please don?t put hands inside cages?(the reason they have this one is because one of my companions grabbed a man?s arm in a plea for help, but pulled too hard, and dislocated his shoulder) ?Do not step past the white line.? But the one that is everywhere around the room, in big black on white, bold writing is: ?PLEASE DO not feed the monkeys.?

Please Don't Feed the Monkeys- Creative Writing 9.2 of 10 on the basis of 1298 Review.