The room in which I found myself was dark and when I first hit the floor I was thankful for the straw that lined it. I lay there a while but quickly became aware of the effluvious aroma seeping under the attic door. It was the whispers I heard from across the room that startled me. I could make out what appeared to be a bassinet along the far wall but that anomalous thought only troubled me more.
I was at a loss to understand what was going on. The rumours of voodoo being practiced in this area came to my mind. That might explain the shears I could see suspended from the wall above the bassinet, a crude method of sacrifice as I recalled having done some homework on local customs before I arrived in this area.
Whatever the sounds were that I was hearing and what if anything was in the cause of those sounds was secondary to my immediate concern of the wounds I had suffered during the capture and treatment. The pain was intense and the rough sutures the peasant doctor had inflicted on me hurt more than anything I had ever experienced.
The pain was intense but in the back of my mind was the need to survive which may mean having to recant my previous confession as I feared the ultimate aerial torture, which I knew there would be no return.