Prisoner

A short Story

His eyes flew open and the first felling he had was the automatic stabbing pain in his head. Ignoring it, he looked around.

There were no windows and only one door leading in and out. The walls were a dark depressing grey. He tried to turn around to see what was behind him but something held him in place.

He couldn't remember what happened the night before. How had he gotten into this gloomy room?

Looking up he found a set of heavy chains that went from the shackles around his wrists to the metal hooks in the ceiling.

How could he be hanging from the ceiling when he could feel his feet firmly on the ground, and when did it get so cold?

His neck strained to look over his extended stomach down to his feet. He winced in pain but not because he felt it, but because he saw it.

He stared in shock at his black, frostbitten feet. Below them was ice, at least a couple feet thick, covering the floor.

His mind went into a state of panic and he thrashed about trying to get the chains out of the hooks. By swinging his legs to gain momentum, he finally freed himself.

The moment of hope was quickly broken as soon as his face hit the ice and the chains slashed his back. How had he forgotten his frostbitten feet?

His chest and stomach burned against the ice as he cried and buried himself in helplessness. "I will never get out of here," he said, surrendering to his fate.

She sat watching the TV screen laughing quietly at all his misery.

She got up out of her black leather chair and walked around the TV set. Trailing her blood red fingernails across the screen; she finally rested her finger on the power button. "How simple he is. I'm sure to do this again," she said as she turned off the TV and closed the door, smiling her crooked smile.