Fresh Air

The darkness dispersed leaving the grey brick of the ston walls. My back ached from where they'r roughly tore the blade away. The air was stale, the rank stench of death hung around me like a shroud. I had been knighted and honoured by kings, now I lay alone.

The small patch of light that leaked through the barred window moved slowly across the floor, the light stretching across my limp hand. There was no point in moving, they would be back soon and I would die again. Each time it happened the aching would take over. Now my throbbed.

My hand claenched as the last drop of light passed through my fingers. No birds tweeted outside the bars, no wind whistled, no voices called to each other. Only the sound of my breathe and something else. I slowly turned my head to look at the wall, a grinding shaking the stone. As I watched one of the bricks fell to dust. A wide eye peered through.

"Hello?" it whispered.

The End

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