Everyone has a home... some homes are nice and big. They have many rooms and it's lit by lights throughout the whole home.
My home is small and freezing... there is only one room and there is a small toilet in one corner .... if I can even say that's what it is.
I have been in my home for the last 6 years I think. I have lost track of time.I haven't seen the sun in a while. I don't even know what day it is.
My stomach growls telling me of my hunger.... my hunger for something to eat... a meal and not the scarps that my jailer feeds me. I think even if I am feed a real meal... I' would puke my guts out... then probably I would be free
Free ... something that hints to freedom... something I can never have again... something I lost... lost to my own stupidity .... my own naive heart.
I hear the stomps of the leather boots of my jailer coming toward my door... he is coming closer.... why is he coming... will I be free.... will I be hurt again.... I hear the boots stop outside my door. The jiggle of keys is loud in my silent cell. The door opens slowly revealing his grin... his face ... this monster... my jailer.
YOU ARE READING
My Jailer
Short StoryFollow a prisoner who is unnamed and forgotten and his jailer a man who knows his story and keeps him bound under is leather boots. Will he remember is past life ... will he gain freedom in the end or will be continue to be forgotten
