Immurement | The True Story of Maud de Braose

It was dark, so dark it was black inside their Immurement.

Maud and William could not see their hands in front of them, just faint sounds. A dripping sound from within their confines, the sound of their breath against the damp stale air was heavy in their hearts.

Faint voices could be heard in the distance, from beyond the walls.

They tried to call for help, scream. But no one answered them.

Days past, and they both grew weaker. They had resorted to licking the walls just for a little sustenance. The damp slimy walls had a little moisture dripping from them. But the fluid was gritty, salty and seemed to dry their throats ever more.

A week had passed, and William had grown silent, he had died.

Maud knew she would be next, for hunger and thirst was uncontrollable, her stomach was empty, her body was weak. Yet with all her strength she reached into the darkness and used her hands to find the way.

At first it was his shoulder she touched, then his wavy blonde locks, which felt dry between her fingers. She caressed her sons face, felt the contours of his nose and chin, her finger even fell across his cold lips for just a second.

She pulled him in close to her, she closed her eyes.

She wept, as her mouth came against his cheek and her teeth sunk in to the cold flesh. 

With one tear she ripped from his face a piece of flesh, and ate it.

The full narrated story can be viewed below.

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