Welcome to my cell, Kelsey

Welcome, dear visitor, to this place that I so unenthusiastically call my home. If you would please follow me a most laborious three to four paces to the farthest corner of my cell, you will see that, under a piece of loose stone, I have concealed an implement of great importance from the eyes of the guards. I have a small, rusted nail that I had found inside my straw mattress (it had been poking me in the back for ages before I found it). I use this implement to create detailed, intricate etchings that span over the walls of my cell. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness of my confinement and allow me to pursue such an uncomfortable task. I enjoy etching brief notes and tips in various dark corners of my cell for whoever is unlucky enough to inhabit my humble abode in the future. I leave notes such as call the mustached guard Monsieur Pimples – he’ll like that, or I strongly suggest shaking the weevils out of any biscuits you are supplied with before consuming them. I also enjoy making small dolls in the image of my captors from the straws in my mattress and subjecting them to torture (my grudges run deep). If I am ever sickened enough to not finish my weevily bread, I construct bizarre sculptures from a mixture of bread and water and leave them for the people who replace my food. My captors have had the delight of being greeted by rather mushy images of Napoleon, sailing ships, skulls, noses, and aquatic animals. I am not sure whether my aim is to thoroughly confuse my captors or it is just to save myself from dying of boredom. But, either way, I am glad you are able to experience life in this prison with me, and you are most welcome to join me in my rather curious endeavors.