Sagas, Short story, Weekend

The prisoner.

It’s been a while or more since last I saw the sky as a man who was free. The days and weeks a blur as years or even lifetimes leave their mark on body and soul alike.

Long ago my crime was named, long ago I named the criminal, and any and all who would show the judgement wrong have long since passed. To memory or death they went or silenced by a coin.

Here I watch the world go by, my forgotten form weak and weary. My glimmer of hope forgotten long ago, replaced with the the narrow sliver of blue or grey which passes by that tiny view.

One day I will be remembered. One day I will leave this room behind. I have accepted it will be on other’s terms, but I will feel fresh air again.

My final window will be a door, my head going through that noose. A lifetime in a moment, no captive misery. The sentence will be carried out, another death yet caused by greed.

 

 

 

A prompt response.

8 thoughts on “The prisoner.”

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