Short story: The Cell

Dwarves pluck at his fingernails, rats nibble at his toes and water runs down the walls of his cell. He’s forgotten how long he’s been here. He isn’t allowed visitors. He’s unsure if his absence is noticed or why he’s locked away but he’s certain his crimes justify his incarceration, he must be a terrible person, a disgusting criminal showing no remorse which is why, over time, he’s stopped worrying exactly what he did. He grows thinner daily, clumps of hair fall out and his fingernails resemble talons.

One day death will come for him with a smile.

This entry was posted in Ben Whitehouse, short story, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Short story: The Cell

  1. Pingback: 2010 in review « White like milk

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