Through the looking-glass

You slowly return to consciousness, instinctively reaching for your head and clutching it groggily in pain. You feel like you were just hit by a ton of bricks. Your roughest nights out drinking pale in comparison to this intense feeling of dehydration. Rubbing your eyes, you stumble to reach for the top of the counter you were leaning against mere moments before. You find no such purchase, and the realization that you are no longer in your kitchen begins to dawn on you. Your eyes grow wide as you scramble to your feet, quickly taking in your new surroundings.

The room is exclusively made of smooth grey stone, save for one wall which is entirely composed of vertical wrought iron bars. The room is spacious, perhaps 20 ft. by 15 ft., and is quite spartan in appearance. There sits a pillory off to the far wall and an empty bowl, which is curiously leaning against it. To the left of the pillory on the adjoining wall, a pair of manacles dangle by a length of chain. Outside of these three things, the room seems entirely empty. You wonder aloud if you have somehow been wrongfully imprisoned.

As you walk toward the bars, you feel a slight breeze waft over your body. Looking down, you are struck with horror to find that you are entirely naked; your clothing and all of your possessions have seemingly been removed. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, you cover your genitalia to the best of your ability and call out for a guard. No one immediately responds, and you take a moment to try and look down the lengthy hallway. There is a dark wooden door perhaps 30 ft. to your left, and a seemingly endless walkway to your right. Other cells clearly adjoin the walkway, but you cannot hear the presence of any other prisoners. It strikes you as odd that you can see as well as you do in this dungeon, considering there aren't any obvious light fixtures. You call out again for someone, anyone who might hear, but receive no response. Frustrated, scared, and cold, you walk to the far back corner nearest the pillory and huddle down.

The lighting in this place is dim, but seemingly perfect; there exists no place to hide. Your stomach growls with a , hungry need, and you mentally scold yourself for having not at the very least sated your appetite before getting thrown in prison. Closing your eyes, you reflect on the events that brought you here, trying to recall any detail that might explain the current situation. With nothing else to do, you eventually fall asleep.