((You’ve heard of the 7 day black and white photo challenge. A fellow author, who also happened to be a photographer, challenged me to tell an impromptu short story for every one he posted. That’s how this weekly writing prompt was born. Feel free to join in.)
I know, quotes are supposed to inspire, but after 36 years in this cell, all it does is tease. I imagine that this simple doodle is a map, a way out of solitary for this godforsaken soul, in this godforsaken prison, on this godforsaken island.
If so, I don’t even know how to get past “start.” And the switch? It is nothing but a joke. Perhaps at one time is controlled a source of light or warmth, but now it is yet another tantalising hope. A hope that never materialises. A mirage at best.
Every day I hear the clanking feet of my guards walk past the outside of my door. They never let me see their face. I hear the grind of metal against metal and a plate of food is shoved through a slot. Three other times a day a paper cup of water is also provided.
I have no hearings. There was no trial, so how can there be hearings without a trial? I had no lawyer to advise me.
I had only handcuffs, a blindfold and the clothes on my back. Clothes that left me long ago.
Every day I hear the clanking feet of my guards walk past the outside of my door. They never let me see their…face…except this day.
“Don’t flip the switch again.”
I can’t croak a response. 36 years of not speaking has left me hoarse.
“There’s no one left.”