Sunday, December 27, 2015

100 Words a Day 756

The cell door clanged into the lock. Once the echo died, the only sound was the regular step of the corrections officer returning to his post. Sunlight entered the prison through narrow slit windows, illuminating the grey concrete at regular intervals. Despite being occupied, the recently shut cell was as dark as the others on the bloc, all of which were empty. The prisoner sat on the metal bench that doubled as a bed, unmoving. Now that the officer had gone, the only thing in the whole wing that moved were the beams of light, traveling slowly across the walls.

No comments:

Post a Comment