Every time I change my body, they put me in a new cage, poke, prod, then leave.
Clang goes the door.
My hate builds so much: I become a rope and slither over to the wall. Now I’m bricks. Wait ‘til visiting time. This brick wall’s gonna bust out. Watch.
Brenda Anderson’s fiction has appeared in various places including ASIM and SpeckLit. She lives in Adelaide, South Australia.
He stares pointlessly into the cold nothingness, the dark eyes betraying no expression. A soft light from the room’s only window paints the picturesque heaven outside.
The tear rolls quickly, suddenly, down the contours of his disheveled face. Then, before it falls onto his straightjacket, it emancipates into a snowflake.
Ramit Das is partly a Computer Science student, partly a mathematician, but full-time a Philosopher. He gets lost thinking about how he thinks.
“Growing up I always had a bunk bed,” Frank said aloud. “Come to think of it, we had bunks at summer camp, too. Just the sight of them brings me back to happier times.” A big nostalgic grin bloomed across Fred’s face.
“All right, convicts. Lights out!” shouted the guard.
Craig writes in his free time for free. He’d listen to offers to change this.
Jordan finished the meal he requested, and set aside his dessert—cherry pie—so he could finish it later.
The cell guard turned to the warden and said, “I thought prisoners couldn’t be executed if they didn’t know what was happening to ’em.”
“So much for theory,” the warden sneered.
Adam Sprague’s work can be found in 365Tomorrows magazine. For more information check out his site.