The Great Escape

I was framed, people. I was in prison for what I believe is about twelve years, and that whole time I knew I was framed. Maybe that’s why I got out sane. Either way, it doesn’t matter. (Well, actually it does . . . but I’m not writing this whole thing on my innocence and brooding over all the things I’d missed. That’s not the point.) I’m writing this because one day I’ll be out of this place, and I’m sure I’ll have some big publishing deal when I am proven innocent and people will wanna know how I did it.

You see, I knew I had a destiny: to be the first man to escape from Azkaban. I wasted twelve years of my life in that rotten, stinky, ex-castle running rampant with Dementors and naked people. (Most of them men. Okay, not everyone runs around naked, but still . . . it seems like it.)

Some of these men were so skinny (as they fed us so little food), they could fit through the bars and could run through the halls of the prison. Of course, the Dementors did their deadly magic; and the person died. It’s not a pretty sight; and most of the crazy guys who were there when I was around knew not to run out of their cells, even if they have no mind at all.

The guy who was in the cell next to me was like that. He’s got no mind, and he didn’t know how to shut up. Well, he never said anything intelligent, actually. More like "I LOVE CHEESE!" or "NARF!" or "Mommy, I just farted!" or the more common "Look at my balls!"

It’s all rather disgusting, but I’ve seen this man naked more times than I’ve seen "model" Pamela Greer naked in Wizard Hotties. Hey, it’s easy on the eyes.

Anyway . . . I woke up one morning. I believe it was around the summer. There was humidity in the air; and my back stuck to the bare mattress, as we don’t have sheets. It’s not so bad, as the prison always seems to be hot and humid, never cold. It’s torture.

Of course, it’s only torture to me and the humans who watch over the Dementors and make our food and clean up the place. (Though I believe in their section of the castle, it’s perfectly perfect. But you have to be sane to be tortured. After all, how would you recognize that you’re being tortured? I seem to be the only sane person here at the moment.)

"Sirius!" yelled a man outside my cell. I rose from my mattress, rubbing my eyes.

"Wha?" I asked, jumping up from the cell. "Oh, hi, Bruce." Bruce is the main watchdog here. He’s in charge of everything, from the food to the Dementors to the clothes.

"We got a space problem," he said, staring at me. I returned his expression with a blank stare.

"Your point?" I asked.

"We’re sticking a guy in your cell with you. You haven’t gone insane yet. And you are supposed to go insane when you stay in Azkaban.

"Yeah," I replied. "Free shelter, free food, free clothes, all at the expense of your mind.

"Don’t be a smart aleck, Black. One day you’re gonna give in. You’ll be just like everybody else, running around naked and talking about their genitalia and–"

"I think that’s just the guy in the cell next to me," I said.

"No, there are a few others," Bruce replied. The man in the cell next to me began jumping up and down (stark naked) inside his cell.

"Mommy, I got oatmeal in my hairs!" Lenny said.

"Can’t you just give him the Kiss?" I asked Bruce, turning my head.

"We’ve tried, believe me. But Dementors don’t like his smell, and they stay away from him."

"Oh, whatever you say, Bruce," I said. "Now, who is sharing my lovely cell with me?"

"A man named Draconis. Draconis got busted for homicide."

"Goody for him."

"Sirius, by the way, he’s a vampire."

"Same thing as a cannibal, just they spread their tastes."

"What do you care about cannibals?"

"I’m in a cell next to one," I said, pointing to my left where a man bit his own skin. He seemed to do that constantly.

"Yeah . . . well . . . whatever. Draconis will arrive here today at about noon. I’ll leave you be."

* * * * *

It was about ten o’clock, but that was only my guess. I can’t tell time by the sun that well, you know. (Hey, watches are dangerous "weapons." Yeah, that’s what they tell us.)

I was sitting on my bed when Lenny began jumping up and down frantically for no reason at all.

Well, that’s what I thought.

Lenny actually had a reason this time.

Well, I’m sure he had a reason, as there is a reason for everything. Okay . . . let me restate this.

Lenny, my neighbor, began jumping on his bed up and down frantically for no reason at all. Well, actually he had a reason. I just wasn’t aware of it at the moment.

"I’m getting kissed!" Lenny yelled. "A woman’s gonna kiss me!"

Apparently Bruce had figured something out.

"When?" I asked.

"In a few days! I’m so happy; I’ve never been kissed in my life!"

Gee, I wonder why. Maybe when you’re as big a pervert as he is things just tend to get in the way. (Such as his affinity for showing others what’s under his pants. I wonder if he had that habit before he went even more psychotic than he already was before the Dementors got to him.)

"I’m in such a happy mood I will run around my cell naked!"

"Spare us please," I pleaded, turning my attention to the wall. A few minutes later, I had a very large headache.

* * * * *

It was about noon, and a Dementor came with my tray of food. It also led Draconis to my cell.

I’m innocent . . . I’m innocent . . . Dementors tended to get me in a bit of a serious mood. They may be idiots, but they certainly are intimidating.

The Dementor opened the cell door (they do not need keys) and threw Draconis in. Draconis had short brown hair, and he was dressed in the Azkaban prison uniform: a white shirt and blue jeans. It was simple, crude, and low budget, something you idiot taxpayers like. (Hey, bet you didn’t know we only change these once a week. Thank you, you cheapskate taxpayers. Of course, seeing I’m the only one who really minds . . . )

My tray of food was shoved in as well.

"Hi," Draconis said in a British accent. "I take it you’re Sirius Black?" I nodded.

"You wouldn’t happen to have any tea, would you?" I shook my head.

"All you get is the slop they feed you, or you can eat yourself like Hannibal Cannibal over there to our left." I pointed to the cannibal. He was working on one of his toenails. "He’ll be finished with himself soon; he’s been here three weeks."

"That’s it?" Draconis asked. I nodded once more. "Well . . . I certainly don’t want to end up like him."

Draconis seemed like a normal guy. Of course, that was when you looked at him from a very long distance. Sure, his hair may be brown. Sure, his eyes may be brown. Sure, he’s got a peg leg. (His right leg is a peg one; the jean leg is cut at that point.) But he was also a vampire.

"So you’re a vampire?" I asked. He nodded.

"I’m a vampire, yes. I had my fangs taken out though . . . I’m allergic to blood, you see."

"What a pity. Who bit you?"

"Cornelius Fudge’s secretary. I took her out on a date, we were making out, she took off my pants, and she bit me there."

"So when you became a vampire, you lost the very essence of your manhood?" I asked. It was Draconis’s turn to nod.

"Yep. Anyway . . . have you ever considered escaping? I mean you’ve been here . . . what? Eleven, twelve years?"

"Twelve," I said. Draconis nodded, and he began to speak.

I tuned it out, placing it with all the other mindless drivel this place turned out. Draconis, even if by accident, had set in motion a chain of events that would lead to something very big. Very big indeed.

* * * * *

I woke up the next morning, and Bruce stood in front of my cell. His little fat cheeks were full of sweat. The Dementors walked behind him, not noticing Bruce.

"I heard Draconis," Bruce said. "He was talking about escaping. I’m not as dumb as I look, Black."

"On the contrary," I replied. Bruce nodded.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Frankly, I wasn’t too sure myself. I was just being typical me, saying whatever came to mind.

"Come with me, Black," Bruce said. He slipped the key into the lock, turning it and opening my shared cell. I followed Bruce, and he led me past the prisoners . . . those deemed too sick to survive in a normal prison. They were sentenced to a certain time in this . . . torture . . . before receiving the Kiss. If they tried to escape, the Kiss would be issued immediately. "No one escapes from Azkaban" as they say in your Azkaban Orientation.

Of course, it would soon be "No one besides Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban" if all things went according to plan. Of course, there wasn’t a plan. Yet.

The Dementors passed as well, feeding on my thoughts. I was thinking positively, and they loved that. I quickly stopped thinking about that for the moment, switching to my famous thoughts of innocence that kept me oh so sane.

I was taken to a winding stairway, leading up into what I imagined was where the humans lived. It was brightly lit, and the temperature . . . the humidity . . . everything was just perfect.

"Sit down, Black." Bruce was pointing at a long table, and he gestured to sit down.

"Black, do you want to escape?" Bruce asked. I stared at him from across the table, into that little face that looked like the face of a very ugly dog.

"Who doesn’t want to escape from this hole?" I asked.

"Lenny and your cannibal friend seem to be enjoying themselves," Bruce replied. I squirmed in my very uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Do you think I am planning an escape or something?" Bruce sighed.

"Your friend was talking about it."

"He’s a vampire that’s allergic to blood. I wouldn’t listen to him for my life," I lied.

"Okay, good point."

"I don’t belong here," I said. "I’m innocent." Bruce laughed.

"Do you know how many people have tried that trick on me?" I shook my head. "More than I can count on my fingers, toes, and other bodily objects."

"Goody for you," I said. "But I’m serious."

"Yeah, whatever."

"It wasn’t me! It was Peter Pettigrew! He was an illegal Animagus! He can change into a rat! He framed me! He’s not really dead!" By now, I was standing. "He was laughing! I saw him! He works for You-Know-Who! He was the Potter’s secret keeper, not me! I didn’t betray Lily and James–Peter did!"

"That’s the most retarded story I’ve ever heard," Bruce said. "Everyone knows you were the secret keeper. You were the one man the Potters trusted the most. Everyone knows that. Do you want to get beaten for wasting my time with such a cockamamie story, Black?"

I shook my head.

"Then get your ugly face out of here and get to your cell!"

I followed Bruce’s orders, which only fueled my desire for escape.

* * * * *

"Hey, can I have a fingernail?" asked the cannibal as a Dementor threw me into my cell. It was the first time I had heard that guy talk.

"I just bit ’em all off," I said, shrugging. "Bad habit." The cannibal nodded.

"Here you go, chap," Draconis said, biting a fingernail off and giving it to the cannibal. The cannibal stared at the hand; he obviously wanted to take a large bite out of it.

"Are you gonna take it or what?" Draconis asked. The cannibal nodded, and he took his fingernail and retreated to his bed.

"Sirius," Draconis asked, turning his attention to me, "have you considered escaping?"

I nodded. "I have a plan worked out," I said. Draconis nodded.

"What is it?"

And so I began to make up my plan on the spot:

"Well, my friend, you’ll pretend that you bit me and had an allergic reaction. Bruce will come with some medicine or whatnot, and he will leave that cell of his open. While he’s attending to you, I’ll slip out of the cell and somehow work my way past the Dementors."

"What about me?" Draconis asked.

"Knock the guy out and come along," I said. "Not that hard, you know."

"Yes, indeed," Draconis said. "And besides, if it doesn’t work out, I can always stab myself with my leg."

"Can I ask why you have a peg leg?"

"Well . . . " Draconis said. "Every two years, vampires meet in Transylvania to the big Vampire Summit. Dracula always runs it. He’s big on that, you know. Big control freak." I nodded. "Well, I was walking in the woods close to his house when a big wolf–not a werewolf, mind you–came upon me and bit me in the leg. Big bloody gash. And Transylvanian medical science being what it is . . . I got stuck with this." He pointed to his leg. "But it’s not so bad."

The vampire nodded and slumped into his bed, near the back of the cell, the headboard next to mine.

I also retired to my bed for a slight rest; my plan needed work.

* * * * *

That night, Lenny was asleep. His snoring was something you had to learn to tune out in Azkaban. We all were, with the exception of a few insomniacs.

And the Dementors. I could feel them in my sleep, when I was the most vulnerable. Their presence was affected my perfect dream, involving me and Pamela Greer.

Suddenly, the Dementors were gone. As was Lenny’s snoring.

Draconis awoke with a mighty yell.

"What the–" Draconis was cut off by the sight of the limp, soulless body of Lenny. He fell out of his bed, his face white with shock.

* * * * *

"Goddang it," I said aloud, getting out of my bed. "Get up, Draconis." Draconis sat up, but his shock was not gone.

"They . . . they put their mouth . . . "

"It’s the Kiss," I explained. "It takes the person’s soul away. So the person still lives, in a sense."

"He’ll just stay there?" Draconis asked. I shook my head.

"Tomorrow morning they’ll get his body and throw it into the sea. Lenny won’t mind in the least."

"I think I need some sleep . . . " Draconis said. He crept into his bed, and he fell asleep.

I knew he was having nightmares.

For me, it was more of the usual.

* * * * *

"Draconis!" yelled a voice in the morning. Draconis jumped from his bed.

"Don’t! Don’t! Don’t kill me! Please don’t! I’m innocent! I really am!"

"Can it," said the voice I recognized as Bruce.

Draconis did not speak. He was obviously scared of the Kiss, ending up like Lenny, still limp in his cell, his expression one of extreme confusion.

"Come with me," Bruce said. Draconis followed, and Bruce opened the cell of the mindless, soulless Lenny.

"Accio retard!" Bruce yelled, pointing his wand at Lenny. Lenny flew to Bruce, who used a levitating charm.

"Follow me," Bruce said. Bruce, Draconis, and Lenny walked right out of Azkaban.

And my cell was closed, a Dementor standing right in front of it. The message Bruce was conveying through the Dementor was clear:

"Don’t get any ideas."

* * * * *

Draconis returned, as did Bruce. Lenny did not. He was most likely in the sea, floating to the bottom.

The cannibal would’ve liked him.

"Step aside, Dementor," Bruce said. I watched Bruce, leading Draconis to the cell next to me.

"Black, I know you’ve got ideas," Bruce said. "Your friend told me your plan. Pretty cliche, if I do say so myself." Bruce smiled at me. "But it looks like you’ll just have to get some alternative." I stared down at the floor and then turned my attention to Bruce.

"What plan?" I asked.

"You know good and well what plan I’m talking about, Black. Your stupid escape plan." Bruce was pointing at me, whispering in angry tones, gritting his teeth.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Was I playing his bluff, or was it a bluff at all?

"You’re not a good liar, Black. You tried this on me yesterday, and it didn’t work. Your Animagus story was bull, and you’re trying to convince me what I’m saying is bull. I know your kind, Black. I’m on to you. But I’ve got every confidence in my Dementors.

How anyone could have confidence in those losers without brains, I did not know.

Bruce laughed (very evilly) and began to walk away when my cannibal friend spoke.

"I really wanted to eat that dude."

Bruce nearly fainted.

* * * * *

I sat in silence for about five minutes, staring at Draconis. He finally exploded.

"What did I do?" he asked me. He stood up near the bars that separated us.

"You told him my plan?" I demanded, throwing my arms on Draconis’s white shirt. Draconis nodded, and I threw him with all the strength I could (which was not much, considering my hands were in between bars).

"Why?" I asked. The Dementor began to feed on my thoughts, and I tried my best to tune it out. It wasn’t any use, and I began to calm myself down.

"He threatened to throw me in the sea with Lenny."

"Whatever," I said, showing Draconis the finger. Draconis’s face filled with shock, and the bite of the Dementor became greater.

I’m innocent . . .

"Coward," I told Draconis, retreating to my bed and formulating a new plan.

* * * * *

That night, I had no plan. My ally was gone. Draconis was in the cell next to me, sleeping. There was a slight whimper in his breathing.

"Hey, you," Bruce whispered to the Dementor guarding my cell, "give Sirius Black the Kiss. Now."

The Dementor opened my cell door, and I immediately transformed into a dog. I ran through the open door, my little doggie heart accelerating with excitement.

The Dementor looked extremely confused. Since they’re blind, they use human emotion to guide them. That was missing in the cell. In fact, it was alone in the cell.

The Dementor made its high-pitched whine, and I ran like no dog had ever run before. Dementors followed after me, useless. They crashed into each other, causing a domino effect that followed me as I raced to freedom.

"Not just yet, Black," Bruce said. He stood in front of me, his wand directly in my face.

Bruce smiled. "So you’re an Animagus, eh? Illegal one at that, I must add." He laughed evilly once more. While he indulged himself in his evilness, I bit his wand in two and then his hand.

Bruce stopped screaming, hesitating. It was just enough time for me to run away.

"Dumb dog," he said to himself, his hand leaving a trail of blood behind him. He grabbed a torch from the wall, waving it like a club.

By now I was at the gate. I changed into my human form, opening the handle to freedom. I changed into my dog form once more, and I began to doggie paddle across the sea.

I also thanked the Lord for giving me the hearing of a canine. Without it, I’d be soulless.

* * * * *

Well, I became free. Of course, I am still on the run as of the moment; but it’ll all be over soon.

From what I hear, the Minister himself personally fired and chewed out Bruce; and who can blame him? He only let Sirius Black, of all people, escape. (That idiot Fudge also dismissed the Animagus thing as total bull.)

So the world still thinks I’m a killer (with the exception of a few people, including my famous godson Harry Potter), but I know I’m innocent. And one day, the whole world will know.

But not now. Right now I’m more concerned with the upcoming war than my innocence.

And I’ve also run out of ink.