The Prisoner

2

heard muffled crying or even piercing screeches, followed by the sound of heavy boots clashing

against the stone, the guards rushing to investigate.

Again, Kai noticed that copper flooded his taste buds. He ’ d been chewing the inside of

his cheek where that sore had been. Lightning flashed, illuminating his tanned skin and the small

cell. He took to picking the dirt from his fingernails. His stomach clenched with hunger.

Supper should be coming soon , he thought.

Rain tapped repeatedly on the cobblestone footpath beyond the barred opening towards

the top of the wall opposite him, his only window to the outside world. He looked on as water

collected on the surface of the earth. Water droplets raced down the thick metal bars to the

ground below.

With each burst of light that penetrated the cell, he took inventory. The stale straw he had

piled in one corner to make a nest of sorts to sleep in, the pile that hid the spare blanket. By some

chance of fate, the corner in which he built his bed was not plagued by draft, though sometimes

the ceiling leaked. In the corner to the left of where he shielded himself from the chill and

dampness in the air was a small bucket and water for washing. Where he sat, he had a view of

the window, though he only saw rats scurrying by and people ’ s feet, and also a place where

water would not drip on his head or trail down his spine from whatever room was above him.

A single pair of boots echoed through the dungeon along with the squeaking of rusted

wheels, directing his attention back to the reality of living in a cell. Dinner was being served.

Each time that small tray slid under the gap of the cell ’ s wooden door, Kai smiled. It always had

water, some sort of broth, sometimes with meat or vegetables, and bread.

As his tray materialized on his side of the cell, Kai relished the sight of the bread. He

waited patiently for Arty to be farther down the hall before unfolding himself and slinking

towards his meal. He stared down at the tray and ran a hand through his brittle, tangled hair,

sweeping the dark strands from his face. Before the meal could disappear, though it never did,

Kai gripped the bread and tore into it, savoring the sweet softness in his mouth. He chuckled a

little, thinking again that if he had known how much food was given to criminals, he would have

done much worse than what he had. What Kai once had to steal, he now got regularly and at no

cost to him or his life.