PCChallenge : The Most Common Prison [Short Story]

Hello everyone! I have finally completed the first challenge for the official Prompt Club. My sunburnt hands typed it away last night, but the story as a whole just feels... I don't know, off? Either way I hope you enjoy it ~

(I chose Prompt 3 - The picture underneath)

Warning: Dark Themes

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Today is not the day. No, not today. I count each finger slowly, 1.. 2.. 3.. Letting my nail poke the pad of each finger, 4.. 5.. 6.. I can hear his footsteps approaching where I sit, 7.. 8.. 9.. Finally, 10. The long awaited arrival.

"Here's your food," he states blankly.

Hastily placing a dirty tray onto the cold floor. Right between a small gap in the rusted cage bars. I crawl to grab my meal, feet scraping against the warn-down linoleum. Parts of the floor I've been having to avoid due to rot quickly setting in more and more each day. My hands tearing at the bread, thrusting each piece into my mouth, making sure no crumb escape my clutches.

I could just barely hear him stifle a laugh, standing high above me. Ironic? Maybe. Still, I continue to fill my stomach with the meager scraps donated generously. To me from him. I could almost feel his eyes, glued to me. Watching my animalistic ways cater to my needs. And then as soon as he came, he left. The steps echoing into the distance as I count backwards. 10.. 9.. 8.. 7.. 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.

The tray lay there, bare. So I kicked it back through the hole. Listening to the rough clank as it hit loudly against a wall. My eyes closing, as my breathing slightly hitched. The cold ground shocking me as I lean backwards, laying down. I start to count again, the numbers entering into my mind and then leaving to be replaced by another. Growing larger.

"Why haven't you left yet?"

"Who's there," I question, sitting up quickly glancing around the four corners I call home.

"It's me dear. Why haven't you left yet," it sounds out.

Why haven't.. I.. left yet?

"How would I do that," I ask, still on high alert.

"Well you do have the keys out, don't you?"

"No I don't have the- keys.." and as I look down, there in my hand, a golden key sits like it had always been there.

I stare at it in shock, am I just hallucinating? This can't possibly be.

"No dear, it isn't your imagination. Now go and unlock the door. Your freedom awaits you," it whispers, but this time I could faintly make out a bright light disappearing from sight.

I stood up, still holding the key gently. Bewildered to say the least. Slowly stepping to the front of the bars, getting a whiff of the old, rusty smell. So, I reach around to the keyhole, and by all means a perfect fit. I turn it until I hear a click sound and with a sigh of relief I open the door. Tilting my head back and starting to tear up a little. Finally I can leave.

But as I step out of the cage my eyes open, revealing the grey scale world around me. A bedroom with white walls and shag carpet. Oh yeah, my house. I forgot about the real prison I'm kept in. My mind, I think to myself as I step off the chair. And with that, tears rolling down my face, I start to count again. 1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6.. 7.. 8.. 9.. 10.

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If you made it this far, thank you for reading!

Have a wonderful day/night!

Stay safe ~

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