Jack – Year 12 Student
Editor’s note: Tasked with writing a short story entitled ‘Imprisoned’, Year 12 student Jack‘s work really stood out for its effective use of deliberately crafted paragraphs, varied vocabulary, and the way in which it shows, rather then tells, the reader the story. CPD/KLK
I was standing in the chamber they called my room. Comatose from the drugs like a dormant volcano which once stood tall. Powerful but constrained. The wind was barking and lashing at the small section of thick metal bars which resided just out of reach. Thin rays of moonlight found their way through the gaps in the bars.
It was cold. You could see the snow gracefully fall onto the bitter stone and immediately freeze back over. It’s funny how delicate these snowflakes are in such an unforgiving place. Every breath drawn filled my lungs with the glacial air, turning them into a sort of freezer; every exhale turned me into an ice-spitting dragon. Silence.
The sudden slamming of one of the large steel doors on the “island”, or at least that is what I think it was. I had never seen anything but my cell and I heard that noise every couple of hours, but to be honest I lost track of time here years ago. The loud noise no longer frightened me.
In the corner of the room was a small rag for sleeping in (that didn’t even cover my legs) and a large frozen iron toilet which I would stick to if I sat on for too long. The door was tall and wide, resembling the stoic wardens whom you would hear occasionally booming with laughter or whose lonely, grey eyes, which matched the room, would occasionally peek through the small latch on the door to check I was still encapsulated inside the four stony walls.
The moon disappeared onto the other side of the prison and the room was plunged into a thick darkness. Silence flowed through the castle as though a dam had just broken, unleashing a gushing river of nothing through the harrowing walls.
A creaking noise suddenly broke through the steady stream of silence. The door never opened but the hatch did. The warden’s sombre eyes peeked through the gap as he spoke in a low, dull tone.
Even though they never spoke much you always knew what they meant.
“Thank you” I responded. I wasn’t even thankful; the food there was horrible; I just needed to talk to someone. Something felt off about this meal, like it would be my last. The hatch then locked again and the room plunged back into darkness. The blaring silence killing me slowly. I cannot keep drowning it out.