Prison Window

The Prisoner


......I can't stand this. Locked in here hour after hour, not a soul to talk to, nobody to touch, nobody to touch me. Just me, all alone. Just me, and my thoughts.
......These four walls and the door, locked and solid, impassable, are closing in on me, squeezing me, crushing me, suffocating me. The window is much too high to see out of: I only know the sun is shining by the warm golden square on the floor. If I lay on my back on the hard floor in that bright square and shut my eyes, I can almost imagine I am out there. Out there in the fresh air, out there where there's so much space and freedom.
......If only I could be out there. I would run and dance and skip with the air filling my nostrils and blowing my hair. I would run for miles and miles and never stop until my legs could carry me no further. Then I would lie down in the long sweet grass, roll in it and feel it crushing under my body and covering me with its scent. Then I would just lie on my back, there in the grass, and look at the sky. The sky, that never-ending dome so high above, clouds rushing across it so light and free.
......Free.
......Will I ever be free again? I can't bear it in here much longer - I'll go mad if I don't get out. How long has it been? I can't remember. Time means nothing here: it just goes on and on. Hour after hour after hour with nothing to do but lie in this square of warmth. Boring, boring, boring. Will it never come to an end?
......It seems so long since I was out. I've almost forgotten what the air smells like. Cooped up here it's hard to imagine that just on the other side of these four walls there's liberty and life and vast miles of open go-where-you-please freedom.
......The walls are so solid and impenetrable. I wasn't made to be locked away and closed in; I was made to be free and wild. If only I could beat down that heavy door and escape. No good though - I've tried. I might just as well try to blow it down with my breath, for all the impression it makes.
......At least there's water and food, not that I'm interested in it. It's stale now, and looks very unappetising. Besides, it's right over there: I would have to get up from this warm square to get it. Having nothing to do makes you lazy. No, I'll just stay here and lie in the light. Maybe I'll turn over in a minute and warm my other side.
......Hello? What's that?
......The door... I must have been sleeping, dreaming of hills and fields and trees. The door, it's unlocking, opening...
......"Hello, boy. How are you?"
......"Whoa there lad, let me get through the door. You look really pleased to see me, I must say. Steady, boy. Have you been a good dog while I've been out at work? Have you been guarding the house while I've been earning your food? Good boy."
......"Just let me make myself a cuppa, then I'll take you out. Nor far, mind. I've had a long day and I'm tired, all I want to do is lock the door and curl up in front of the television."

Copyright Scorpio Tales 1996. All rights reserved.


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