It’s time.

The gatekeepers lower me deep into the abyss. I am once again surrounded by iron poles in this confined space, reeking of my piss and poop. I stare at the gatekeepers with disgust through my prison bars, watching them extinguish the lights. Darkness covers the room, and I’m alone again, finally. I hear their heavy footsteps come to a halt, and the slam of their door vibrates the floor. I taste sweet freedom in the air. Howling winds shake the trees, while leaves buffet the windows and whirl into the moonlit night.

I’ve prepared for this moment, hardened my body for weeks to withstand the rigors of escape. Memorizing the layout of this massive stronghold was a challenge, but as a high-value detainee, the obligatory escorts and constant travel around this prison only solidified my plan. My escape route is ensured.

I know it’s impossible to break all the way out. My cage is easy enough to slip, but the outer walls are a different problem. Only a gatekeeper carrying a strange metal object enters or leaves this facility. Their voices activate automated systems, and they use special passcodes for the alarms. I will never make it out of this prison without a gatekeeper, but that is neither my intention nor my desire. What I do desire, however, is much more attainable. I seek to reach the vessel.

What is that beautiful vessel with strange symbols written upon it? Placed high upon a large cold machine, the vessel contains mysterious round objects that the gatekeepers devour regularly. They bounce gleefully with each bite taken and every morsel swallowed. I don’t understand how or why, but I know I need a taste. I only crave the satisfaction in that vessel. I need that happiness, and tonight, I’ll have whatever is inside it.

Voices echo in the distance, fading away. The gatekeepers will sleep soon. My path to the vessel is clear. I grab the cage bars and climb. Though the bars are high, they don’t extend to the ceiling, so there’s just enough space for me to swing over. I know of the device in the room that can pick up the faintest sounds, but my skill and stealthy woolen socks silence my movement. I land and creep towards the door of my detention room. Just as I’ve practiced.

Hmph, they didn’t lock it again. Overconfident, the fools! They’ll soon learn. I nudge the door slowly and peer into the void. No gatekeepers patrol the grounds. I scurry toward the stairs. Staying low to blend into the darkness, I know the interior cameras won’t detect me. I carefully slide down the old wooden steps, one by one, hoping they don’t creak too loudly. As I reach the bottom, metal jingles at the door. Another gatekeeper conducting a nightly check!

I sidle to the other side of the door and hug the wall. The metal clangs. I wait, measuring each inhale, muffling every exhale. A junior gatekeeper stumbles in; hair unkempt and movements reflecting a drunken stupor. The rookie’s recklessness is going to get me caught!

Fortunately, he is trying to be silent, just like me. He fumbles with the blinking panel for several seconds, and right before it sounds the alarm, he disables it. That was too close. The gatekeeper hoists himself up the stairs slowly. Surprisingly quiet, he enters a vacant room and clicks the door shut. I sigh silently, thankful he didn’t force me to subdue him.

Pale moonlight seeps through the blinds, and large shadows shift, reflecting the gnarled windblown branches swaying outside. My heart pulsates, and I feel it trying to escape my chest. Not today, little one. I must hurry to the vessel, especially if more unstable gatekeepers are scheduled to enter the prison. I peel off the walk and into the nearest room with a large table surrounded by matching wooden chairs. Almost there. During the day, strange food sits on the table. At night, it’s blank and smooth. I take a deep breath and proceed to the scariest room of them all, the room where the vessel is held beyond my reach. The torture room.

I’ll never forget the countless bloody entrails of animals and maybe even humans. The gatekeepers use sharp tools to slice and consume unidentified flesh on multiple occasions. Those images are imprinted in my mind forever. They clean up the scarlet liquid and the useless morsels as if it were natural. Frankly, it disgusts me. I’m glad my food is never the same as theirs. I pray it remains that way.

I spot the vessel atop the storage machine for their dead meat. This will be difficult, but I scaled the heights of my cage. I can scale this too. I pull at a nearby chair that I can climb, and a shadow emerges into the dim moonlight. The beast stalks before me. Its jaws drip with drool over its ferocious fangs. Its big ears flap to the sides, where shaggy gray fur bristles.

I freeze, feeling the carnivore exhale its nasty breath upon me. Does the monstrous creature sense I am an intruder? The beast must not alert the gatekeepers, so I choose to mimic what the gatekeepers do. Hesitantly, I place my hand under its muzzle. It sniffs me, and I rub the side of the beast where fur tingles my fingertips, and it lifts its chin in satisfaction. I admit, it feels nice to me too. This terrifying creature is no enemy of mine. I delicately push a small chair to the counter and clamber up. As I hoist my legs over, my feet smash into a silver instrument. It slides off the marble surface, hits the floor ,and bounces. Metallic ringing reverberates throughout the prison.

I wait, but only the beast notices my mistake. It curiously sniffs the fallen object. I regain my composure and tiptoe to the machine. Stretching for the top, I cautiously move my bare feet along the surface to not repeat my previous mistake and haul myself onto the machine’s high top.

The vessel rises into sight, a large blue porcelain cylinder with elegant designs. Symbols and circles mark its case. I reach for it with shaky fingers, eager to consume its treasure and revel in the gatekeepers’ ecstasy! Its cold body is heavier than I expected. A mechanism of daunting complexity secures the vessel, but luckily the gatekeepers failed to lock it. I lift the lid and gaze at the brown circular items inside.

I raise one out and inspect the soft sphere. Dark spots pattern a crumbly surface.

Finally, my time has come.

I lift the object, mouth agape, ready to partake in the euphoria the gatekeepers refuse to share. They can’t stop me now! I have overcome their oppressive—

The light blinks on.

The darkness evaporates, and the head gatekeeper stares at me from across the torture room, mouth wide enough to swallow me and the sphere whole.

No! I’m so close. I can’t let her ruin all my hard work. The head gatekeeper dashes swiftly toward me. I attempt to shove the round object in my mouth, but she snatches it from my hand and grapples me into her arms. I can’t escape.

The second gatekeeper appears. Bleary-eyed, he converses with the head gatekeeper. I decode one familiar repetitive word: “Cookie.”

The gatekeepers marvel at my skills, which got me far without detection. They congratulate themselves for their so-called "parenting skills." They gloat in their tyrannical denial of "cookie." Right in front of me! How dare they?

The head gatekeeper takes me upstairs. Humming, she puts me back in my cage. She gives me a tender kiss on my forehead and leaves me to rot. I slouch against the bars, defeated. I was moments from reaching heavenly paradise, only to see it stripped away.

Alas, they foiled my first attempt, but it won’t be my last! Next time, these “parents” will surely challenge me with additional security measures, but I’ll conquer them every single time. I’ll eat a “cookie” one day, and when I do, I’ll enjoy every bite.