“So, this is... errr... this is my home. It’s a little blank and bare. Haven’t really had time to decorate. Walls are... gross. Floor has a little bit of rot. Ceiling is all, like, smoky. But make yourself comfortable and I’ll be with you In a minute!”
The guard watched nervously as the prisoner began pretending to make coffee above his bed. He remained in the doorway.
“You crazy s***. Roll call, get out here.” The prisoner pretended to drop his coffee mug in astonishment.
“Not now! The tea cakes are almost ready!”
“Move, scumbag!” The prisoner, somewhat reluctantly, shifted towards him where the guard tied his hands with rope cuffs tied with a chain across the middle. Emerging from the cell, he coughed. Sunlight was absent from the room, and his companion prisoners lined up outside their cells beside him. He winked at one of the larger occupants of a cell across the way. Sneering back, he was hit over the head by his guard. The thump echoed disgustingly around the hall. One of the lights at the far end went out. One of the guards ordered another to find out why. With no warning the rest flickered away, melting the hall into a black mass, suddenly filled with the sounds of guards beating down their prisoners and holding on to the scruffs of their uniforms tightly. They could all hear action in the surrounding rooms – glass smashing, muffled voices, footsteps desperately moving, shifting. Then, as sudden as the disappearance of light – silence. Each prisoner felt a release of strain on them, and a weight lifting from their bodies – the presence of another, gone.
Created: Aug 06, 2012TheMightyWarMachine Document Media