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Laying on my paper-thin mattress I gaze out through my miniscule window under the cracked ceiling. The livid thunder outside startles me and I redirect my attention to something else. I catch something scampering across the ice-cold stone floor, but then realize it's just a figment of my imagination. I jump as the guard paces towards my cell, scraping his shiny black baton across the rusty bars to my cell, leaving the sound echoing several times within. His gaze falls upon me and he gives me a twisted smile, revealing his crooked teeth. His keys jangle loudly through the entire corridor as he loudly paces up and down, holding the key to my freedom. A huge brown moth hovers helplessly around the cold cell's four corners, yearning to find an exit - Like me; it can't find a way out. To a new place, where there's more happiness than in here. ...read more.


I heave myself off the floor and walk up to the cracked mirror on the wall. Wiping away the stringy cobweb, to reveal a man I can hardly recognize. His eyes red like the devils, his hair grey from the dusty ground. His face scrawny and colourless, and as I touch my skin, I come back to my senses. The room lights up slightly and I notice its probably breakfast time soon. I face towards the diminutive window high up, and although I cant see directly out of it, the smell of fresh air is like a walk through heaven. Before I know it, a stumpy dwarf-like guard shines his blazing torch through my cage railings. I notice his greasy hair slicked back under his small hat. He lets out a low grumble and shouts 'its time for breakfast'. With that, he turns around and slithers off slowly, like a snake through the grass, finding its next prey. ...read more.


They snarl and sneer at me as they lead me away. I look around, some prisoners smothering their cages with their dirty hands, their eyes filled with fear, staring at me like I'm some sort of a freak show. The smell of breakfast lingers around me and I begin to regret not eating and savouring the taste of my last meal. My heart pounds fast as I enter the dark room. The smell of burnt hair remains in the cold room and I feel my hair sticking up on end. The man smiles with glee at the prospect of taking a man to his death. I get pushed toward the chair and they strap me in so tight that I can hardly breathe. As I look at my wrists and the nail indentations from the previous executees, all I feel is pain as the man begins shouting words I cant seem to make sense of, and slams the cold, brass door shut behind him. With that, I say a silent prayer... ...read more.

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