Author's Note:
Hey readers, if any of you are interested, I posted some profiles of characters you may not be familiar with on my deviantArt account! You can find it at jobartlet . deviant art .com
Not long ago was a time when the sun moved slowly, the air smelled sweeter, and the summer grass swayed. This was a time Malon dreamed of, the days she spent playing barefoot and sunburnt. In her dream things seemed slow as the grasshoppers jumped past, and from the blue sky, cloudless and brilliant, the hot, moist breeze overlapped her skin. Her father spent most of these days sleeping in the house, but on this special occasion he felt playful as he followed her out.
Laughter twirled in every breath as she jumped through the towering grass, swiping her little hands at small bugs and butterflies that danced to their own beat. She felt someone grab those hands, looking up to see Talon, and in a grand swing he raised her up above the grass canopy.
She felt butterflies in her stomach as she swung, "Higher! Higher," she burst with contagious laughter. He raised her up above the grass and back down, he raised her up among the grasshoppers and back down, he raised her up with the birds and back down, and with each swing she laughed harder and believed she could fly higher.
"Whooo," Talon would coo as she swung back and forth, "Whooo!"
Talon set her on his shoulders, she didn't care that they were a little sweaty as she gawked at the ground so far beneath her. The butterflies had tied a twist in her stomach, "Eep!" She wrapped her baby fat arms around the old man's forehead as she curled against the back of his neck.
"Don't look down, just look up," Talon laughed as he twirled her around on his shoulders, her sunset red hair swaying.
And so she did. This was the first time she ever noticed how quickly the clouds moved through the sky, as if she used to think they stayed still forever. And up there seemed to be something strange, something other than a bug, butterfly, or swaying grass up there. Malon reached up, it hardly grazed her fingertip. It was soft, the color of the sky, floating through the breeze without control, a beautiful blue feather.
Malon dreamed. Malon woke up.
Day 19 of Spring
Dear Dad,
What can I say about my new cell? It's smaller than the rest of the cells in the hall. I don't think it was even supposed to be a cell, it was probably supposed to be a closet. At least I have it to myself. It's at the very end of a hallway where there are six other cells, seven cells total. There are three on one side of the room and three on the other, each cell on my side of the wall has a window to outside, which is where we get most of our light. There are a few torches lit that are placed on the wall between cells. The torches make a yellow tint in the air here and the lighting is either really bright or really dark.
I'm not the only girl here. There are a few more in the hallway that I've heard, but I haven't seem them since they're in a cell on the same side of the hallway. Maybe I should try talking to them.
I still can't believe I'm here…
You remember when I used to play cops and robbers when I was little? I was always the cop and I would force Link to be the robber. He used to get so mad when I wouldn't let us switch places because he wanted to be the cop too! He had no idea that the reason I didn't want to be the robber so much was because earlier I had snatched Mr. Ingo's Keaton print underwear to make a princess dress. It didn't take Mr. Ingo long to find out and his expression was so scary he make me wet myself and I ran inside crying!
From that day I swore I would never steal anything again, because when I think of thievery I think of Mr. Ingo's rage! It may have been so simple, but it really made an impact on me as a child. I've never stolen after that, never have, and never will. Of course no one will believe me, namely Inspector Finch, the man who took me in.
Dad, I swear on the Goddesses I never stole that wallet. Why it was in the cart, I really have no idea! It is a bit of a terrible excuse, but it's not just an excuse! It's the truth! Inspector Finch is too thick headed to see that.
"Prison won't kill you," he said to me on the ride here. Bah!
Dad, it's not me I'm worried about. It's you! They can give me this tiny cell, so what? I won't care no how! It's uncomfortable but I've spent nights sleeping on tree branches and the ground with rocks for pillows. They think this prison can break me. It's an adventure, like those books I've started reading, and all those daydreams and pretend play when I was little! This prison will do nothing but feed the soul!
But the thought of you being home alone in your condition… I just can't seem to stop crying…
Daddy, I promise with all my heart and then some that I will find my way out of this place, home to you. If I have to carve through the walls with my bare fingers or act so kind that angels seem like demons to get set free early… I'll make it back to you! That's a promise!
With so much love,
Malon
Day 20 of Spring
Dear Dad,
You know what I said about carving the walls with my bare fingers? Forget that. I'm never going to attempt escape from here. I haven't given up hope on getting out of here, but just hear me out.
Dad, I saw a man die yesterday.
It wasn't long after I finished my last letter to you that we were all summoned. I was just sitting on my bed, which is harder than hell might I add, when the prison guard in armor showed up at my cell. He is middle aged with a potbelly and has a brown moustache that covered his entire mouth, kind of like yours.
His voice shook with his hands, every movement he made looked like a panic attack, "L-looks like we've got a fresh one here! What's your prison number?" He looked to a piece of paper he kept in the breast of his armor. "Ah. 50613. Lucky convict, you get to see one of Sarkis' executions on your first night," he turned to the other prison guards who stood at the doors of the neighboring cells, "What are the chances of that?"
"If she was lucky she wouldn't be here," scoffed another prison guard not far down the hall. He's somewhat scrawny with black hair, a gap in his teeth, and a charismatic voice. He reached down to pet a frighteningly large guard dog with long white fur. The scrawny guard looked to me as he scratched behind the dog's ears, "Good thing you're not unluckier than you are, convict, or you'd be in Arbiter's Grounds!"
"Don't even talk about that ghost town," the mustached one mumbled, "It's bad luck!"
The largest and deepest voiced prison guard a few cells down, red haired, bursting with muscles, and almost leaking testosterone from every pore, spoke up, "If she were lucky, if any of us were lucky, we'd be in Sarkis' place right now. That guy has it made."
Clenching my skirt in my fists, I grinded my teeth at the sound of his name. Sarkis, Inspector Finch, the man who took me away from my sick father, threw me in this dank, leaky stone bowl they call a prison for a crime I didn't even commit. If I had my way, he'd execute himself.
"Tell me about it," the scrawny one sighed with dramatically ecstatic movements, "He's got the Royal Family wrapped around his fat black finger. He could do anything he wants! All the women, all the booze, he could set the Castle on fire and the King still wouldn't care because 'Ohhh, he raised my son I was too lazy to spend time with myself,' Bah, he didn't even do a good job of it, considering the little brat is dead."
"Hey," boomed the large bodyguard, "Don't be so disrespectful! Prince Oreck was an angel!"
A fist pounded several times at the other side of the door at the end of the hallway where the muffled voice of a man erupted, "Get those convicts to the bridge! We ain't got forever!"
The large one walked to the door, yanked it open and barked back, "Who said you could boss us around, noobie?!"
In the dark of the night we walked through the rain out along the castle moat with linked chains around our wrists and ankles, which reduced our steps to less than a shuffle. The only light came from the other side of the moat where torches were hung on the white stone of the castle. Strutting at the front of the line of prisoners, the mustached guard occasionally yanked the chains to scoot us faster. The scrawny one with the guard dog's leash in hand, stood to the side of the man in front of me, who was somewhat in the middle of the line, and the muscular one governed the end tail.
The guards had put on thick brown cloaks, hiding their heads from the soak of the rain in hoods while the skin of us inmates drank it up. I shivered in the rain, but it bothered me none. All I would think about was how to get home to you.
I imagined smuggling a spoon from lunch and carving a hole under my bed large enough to crawl through. I imagined knocking one of the prison guards out cold, dragging them into my cell and exchanging clothes, and escaping in disguise. Better yet, I imagined Inspector Finch at the bars of my cell door with tears in his eyes, babbling, "I-I didn't know you were innocent! I'm so sorry! You're a free girl! A man like me has no place in this business, so I've decided to move far away to the crappiest corners of Gamelon!" Tears dropped to the floor where his knees fell down, "I beg forgiveness! Please pardon a worm like me!"
Through the rain and wet sand of the moat, I chuckled under my breath at the thought of his tears. How sweet they were.
The scrawny one turned his head to me, "Oh, what are you laughing at, 50613?" He scoffed, "You must be more loony than you look. You enjoy watching people get fried?"
"Uhm, no," I blushed at my powerlessness as I came back into reality. I wouldn't be escaping for a while. Suddenly, I raised my head, "Fried? What do you mean fried?"
Turning back, he scoffed again, "Hush, 50613."
The prisoner behind me, a middle aged average joe kind of guy who was staying in the cell next to mine, whispered to my back, "Sarkis is going to bring the storm down on Manny tonight."
"Bring the…" I mumbled in confusion, shaking my head.
"Poor Manny," said the middle-aged man, "He was a nice guy once you got to know him."
The condemned inmate known to these people as Manny stood at the top of the arch of the castle gate, just behind the stone eagle that seemed to peer down on us prisoners below, soaking and shivering. He was held down by at least four ball-and-chains on his ankles, his wrists bound with rope and a cloth bag over his head. I looked around but saw no Inspector Finch present, only Manny, rows of prisoners and three prison guards per row. To the front left of me was the castle in the short distance. Then I looked behind me to Castle Town behind me. There it was.
Freedom was just behind my back, irking me like a hangnail.
I'm going to get out of here, I thought, I'm going to get out when they can't see.
My eyes sparkled at the warm lights of the homes in the distance, so safe and secure under the rain… But then Inspector Finch appeared in the distance I watched, wearing no cloak or bringing no umbrella like the rest of us. My heart crawled at the sight of him, oh how I wanted to chew his ear out as he walked past, his hair dripping with the rain, his suit soaked. He had the expression of a man with nothing, and through all this I hated him.
You persecute an innocent girl and now you're going to kill a man, and just because it's your job? I planned to bark at him as I watched him walk around the rows of prisoners but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
He placed his feet before the gate as though he was waiting for it to open, his back turned to us. His head rose to Manny above, who stood alone, still and silent, but alive.
Rain hitting his face, he grabbed a small scroll from his pocket, he read from it in a flat voice: "Manny M. Meridell, You have been persecuted for arson, due to condemnation you will be executed by…" we watched him as he lectured, almost to a shout at the doomed man above. His voiced eventually drowned out in my head as I watched his back with contempt.
"I've got to get out of here," I grumbled to myself in a voice so quiet I could only hear it in my thoughts, "There's no way they can keep me in. Not for a two year sentence."
I jumped to the chuckle of an unknown voice behind me, "That's thick headed thinking," the chains around my wrists and ankles clanged as I turned to see a tall man behind me. He was not prisoner, not even a prison guard. Under his large hooded black cloak I could see a bored expression of colorless eyes and a ruffle of silver hair, the rest of his face I couldn't see under a dark mask pulled up just below the top of his nose and below his eyes, "You don't seem familiar, so I'm presuming you're new. Which means you have no clue why he's up there."
I paused, "I do too, he's an arsonist."
With an annoyed sigh, I could see an expression of 'I thought so' in his eyes, "That's where you're wrong," as he spoke, people turned to see the dark cloaked man as though he were the human incarnation of danger, "There's a system in the prisons here, somewhat cruel, but it keeps you in order," he looked away from me and to Manny above, "If you attempt escape and get caught in the hallways, your sentence is lengthened by five years. If you get caught wandering the Castle, trying to find your way out, you get ten years," my eyes widened with every word, "If you get to the courtyard, that's twenty years," his voice got darker as he spoke, "If you make a full escape and get caught later, you face execution."
"So… that guy…" I whispered in horror.
In his eyes I saw no sympathy, in his voice I heard no remorse, "He got as far as the Castle Town gates. If you talk about escape, you talk about suicide."
Under the pour of the rain there was a moment of silence. Sarkis's lecture continued but it was muffled in my shock. If it lasted a few seconds or a few minuets I don't know, but it felt like hours. All I could do was blink, think of you, and how my hopes of the escape I had fantasized about were shattering. In one last denial, I gulped, "They wouldn't do that to me," my hands quaked in my chains, "I was put in wrongfully, and besides, the crime I was accused of was snatching only fifteen rupees!"
As though he had become a different person, the darkness in his voice disappeared as he laughed, speaking to me like a child, "That's where you're wrong," he smiled, "It doesn't matter if you're in for fifteen rupees, one rupee, or a large fortune. You could be in for cross walking and the charge for attempted escape is still the same," he looked forward to Sarkis, "How do you think he got his nickname?"
"Nickname?"
"Sarkis the Merciless," his words hit and dragged me like an undertow, "He doesn't care. If it's his duty, he does it. Even if it's execute some poor innocent little girl."
In a thought, I saw myself at the top of the gateway in Manny's shoes with the bag around my head, Sarkis being the death of me.
My hands shook harder, "Who are you supposed to be," I whispered.
With a soft chuckle, he smiled again, "No one, really." His eyes, I noticed, were red, "See ya."
Red eyes, I gasped, this guy is… a Sheikah!
By the time I blinked, he was gone. Vanished as though he was never there. I looked to my left but saw only the Castle over the grassy cliffs of the courtyard, I looked to my right but saw only cliffs again that led to nowhere. But then I turned my head back to the front, where the black-cloaked Sheikah stood beside Inspector Finch. They were both tall, but in comparison the Sheikah was taller.
His entrance put a pause in Inspector Finch's muffled lecture.
"Sorry I'm late," he spoke to Inspector Finch in a carefree voice, "A magic talking tree offered me an apple, but it had a sleeping curse on it."
"What are you doing here, Gaede," Inspector Finch grumbled as he looked to him. I saw the look in his eyes, the same look I gave Inspector Finch when he passed by.
Their voices muffled in the rain, I heard the Sheikah say, "I'm here to confirm if the condemned are dead after you-"
"I can do that myself."
Gaede chuckled again, "Don't try to act so tough. This isn't a one-man job. Remember what happened last time you tried to do this on your own?"
In a sudden expression of shock, Inspector Finch pursed his lips, "That was years ago," he looked back to Manny, "This is a completely different situation."
"You never know," Gaede replied, "It could happen again."
Inspector Finch paused before speaking again, "Leave."
"But you don't understand, Sarkis. I'm here on the King's orders," I could hear an in-your-face tone in the Sheikah's voice, "If you have a problem with it, you'll have to go to him."
There was a dragged silence. They might have been talking, their voices muted by the rain. In this time I wondered just who this Sheikah man was, but mostly how if Sarkis was on the ground, and Manny stood at the top of the gateway, how does he plan to execute him?
I thought that perhaps they'll drop him, but if that were the case, wouldn't Inspector Finch be atop the gateway with Manny? As I tried to think of other ways they might go about it, I looked around. This is when remembered what the middle-aged man behind me had said, "bringing down the storm."
Bringing down the storm? I wondered, Are they just waiting for him to be struck by lightning or something?
But when it came, when I saw it…
Dad, this Inspector Finch isn't human.
He had resumed and finished his lecture, "Any last words before I return your soul to the goddesses?" He asked to the man towering in the rain above.
Manny paused, "…Your new cook sucks," he said through the sack, "I liked the old one better!"
"So be it, then," in a short silence Inspector Finch raised his arm, his fingers pinched together. As he did, the prison guards, the prisoners, all but the Sheikah and me seemed to flinch, cover their ears, and slammed their eyes shut. I looked around, wondering what the fuss was. I looked to the Sheikah. He stood beside Inspector Finch, unflinching and unafraid.
There was a snap at Inspector Finch's fingertips.
At the same moment there was a blinding light that sent me back, striking the top of the gate with a crack and boom that burst my ears into a ringing shock. I had been flung to the ground from the force of it, the sharp flare of heat that radiated from the strike.
Lightning.
Manny still stood, but from the smoke coming from his body I thought for sure he was dead. Inspector Finch snapped his fingers again, there was another bolt of white that fell down and smoldered the very same spot. The boom and crack numbed my ears and made my eyes scream. It hit again, and then a fourth time. And all at the command of Inspector Finch' snapping fingers. A few minuets from the chaos had passed and prisoners and prison guards laid on the ground still, moaning from the sting in their eyes and the ringing in their ears.
I attempted to open my eyes, but I could see nothing. I thought for sure that I had gone blind until a saw a shape move in front of me. All voices seemed to echo with the ringing. Moaning and sighing with pain, I was probably doing so too, not that I could hear.
The pain, Dad, I couldn't describe. I couldn't even imagine what it must have been like to be in Manny's place.
From the ground, through my nausea and confusion, I saw the lights of Castle Town again. The children probably laid in their beds, curled under their blankets as their parents comforted them, telling them that it was only a few strikes of lightning, how they had nothing to be afraid of. When the nausea seemed too much to hold, I saw him, Manny, one more time. He was thrown over the shoulders of the Sheikah as stepped over me, disappearing into the distant shadows. What had once been a man was now a smoldering crisp of charred flesh and fabric.
I puked.
And in all this, it rained harder and harder.
"Still think escaping is a good idea, 50613?" I could just imagine the Sheikah saying this to me.
It's not.
But I still need to get home to you.
With Love,
Malon
Day 13 of Spring
Dear Mr. Ingo,
How are you? Still liking your job at the liquor store? I never thought I'd say this, but I miss working there. Mostly, I just miss seeing you there. I need to ask a favor of you, it's very important. I know you must have heard about my arrest the other day from some of the coworkers there. I'll have you know that I never stole anything and that I was wrongfully arrested, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm not there to take care of Dad anymore. I know you still have a smidge of bitter feelings to Dad, but I know deep down you really care about him as well.
His condition isn't getting any better. He can't walk without a cane anymore, not to mention get on a horse to go into town. Since all the cuccos and cows have passed there's no other food there other than a few carrots we may still have in the mill.
Please, oh please, would you visit my Dad to make sure he eats? I'll repay you, I swear! When I find a way to make an income in here I'll be sure to send money straight to you!
Please take care of yourself!
Sincerely,
Malon
Day 14 of Spring
Dear Dad,
Sorry about writing you such an emotional letter last night. It had just been such a stressful past few days, and seeing the death of a man is no small sight. All of this made me think of something. You remember some of the stories Link would tell before he set off on that mission with Epona? Fighting monsters and whatnot. I wonder if killing monsters for him feels the same as killing another person.
Probably not, it was just a thought.
I could never picture myself killing anything, even if it was a monster. I can't even kill a cucco to fry for dinner! Which reminds me, have you been eating well? If I ever find some way to earn some money here, I'll be sure to send it to you so you can go into town for food and get whatever you want.
I would send you some food we get here… but I think you'd be better off with money. I think they just give us the leftovers here. Earlier today I had some pea soup, but it was fairly cold and tasteless. I bet the food Inspector Finch eats is beyond comparison. Privileged prick.
Has Mr. Ingo visited you by any chance?
With Love,
Malon.
Day 15 of Spring
Dear Malon,
Thank the Goddesses, I'm so relieved to hear from you I nearly fell flat on my face! Mostly because my cane slipped a tad, but…
Hooo-wee! I had no idea you could write so much! I think I read most of it. Ever think about writing a book? You're pretty darn good! It sure is a shame about the Manford guy, were you friends? Can't say I've heard anything from Ingo since he quit at the Ranch.
And don't worry; I know you're innocent. My little girl wouldn't go around stealing rupees. I'd go into town and have a word with the justice people, but it's still hard to get around. Do they keep the place warm? Are you sleeping enough? Don't pick fights with anyone bigger than you and just don't drop the soap! If anyone ever gives you trouble let me know so I can sic Ingo on them, that should scare 'em straight! I miss you so much, but I trust you'll be out soon. When you do, you have to promise me you'll get married and give me some grandchildren before I go! I just don't want to leave this world not knowing if my little girl has a safe home or not.
Write to me as often as you can!
Love,
Dad
P.S. I've been munching on some carrots we've got in the old mill.
Day 17 of Spring
Dear Dad,
I was so happy to get your letter! It's so boring here, there's nothing to do but sit around, sing, and daydream or something. I don't know if I'm book writer material, I'm not that imaginative. It wouldn't be so bad to be a songwriter, though! If I wrote some songs in here would you read them? There's nothing else to do here anyway. I'm getting along surprisingly well with the other inmates here! Or at least, better than I thought. I imagined we'd all hate each other and everyone would yell at me, but there's a comfortable indifference here. I think the reason most people here don't hate me is that they seem to really like my singing! One even asked if I was a professional and if I would write a song for him! Never felt so flattered in my life!
I thought you'd be getting food from the mill. Don't rely on the carrots for too long or you'll go orange! Still no word from Mr. Ingo? I haven't gotten a reply from him, either… I don't know his new address in Kakariko, so I just mailed it to the Liquor Store under his name. I hope the boss didn't throw it away! Oh, I guess I didn't even tell you. I requested Mr. Ingo drop by to make sure you're doing well and getting enough food.
How have you been feeling? I still worry about you so much!
I keep dreaming about you and me playing in Hyrule field, that time we found that blue feather. Every night, it seems like!
Oh, Marriage, huh? Well… it would be nice, I suppose. I don't know who would want to marry a "criminal" like me, though. Maybe someday I'll find my knight in shining armor, someone brave and handsome, kind and gentle. In fact, sometimes I daydream about my dream man knocking down the cell door and carrying me out of here! It's so silly, but a girl can dream, right? Who knows, maybe he'll come, whoever he is.
Love,
Malon
Day 19 of Spring
Dear Malon,
You'd be a perfect songwriter, baby girl. You got your mother's voice, after all! The guy who asked you to write a song for him probably just wants to ask you out. If he keeps hitting on you make sure you tell him "no, and if you lay a hand on me my dad will come down and pummel you good!"
The carrots are getting a little stale… So kind of you to send word to Ingo for me! Still haven't seen him, though.
My health has been just fine! Worry about yourself, not this old man.
Love,
Da-
Wait a tick. I just read your really long letter again. You're saying this Inspector-executioner-guy can make lightning strike when he snaps his fingers? Is he one of those magician fellows? He certainly doesn't sound like someone to be reckoned with! I know you're mad at him, but make sure you're extra nice to him; maybe he'll let you off early!
Day 20 of Spring
Dear Dad,
Yes, Inspector Finch doesn't seem to be normal. I don't know if he's a magician or if he's just not plain human. Something's strange about him.
I couldn't be kind to that man if it would save my life. He did a check up on us to make sure everything was going smoothly the other day. I couldn't even say anything. When he walked past my cell we exchanged this glance. You know what I saw when I looked into his eyes? Nothing.
It's his fault I'm here. He probably goes home to his nice house every day and has a nice meal and a nice warm bed and doesn't have to worry about money or food or his health or anything. How could I be nice to someone who could never understand us?
You don't say it, but I know your condition is getting worse, I can feel it. I'm getting tired of this place and I want to go home! I just wish the ranch were back up, you were healthy, and everything was the way it was before!
It sure would be a nice time for my knight in shining armor to show up…
Love,
Malon
Day 21 of Spring
Dear Dad,
Inspector Finch came to me this morning. He said he sent specialists to look after you! Is this true or was he just lying to me?!
Love,
Malon
Day 22 of Spring
Dear Malon,
It's true; some strange people in white clothes came in the other morning and have been looking after me since! I don't know what to think! It's true what you said before about my health and everything. But you ain't got nothing to worry about; they said they're going to take good care of me while you're gone. The food they've been making for me has been the best I've had in years! (Not that there's anything wrong with your cooking.)
Hang in there, baby girl!
Love,
Dad
Day 23 of Spring
Dear Dad,
I don't know what to think, either! Why would he do that? I thought he didn't care… Maybe law requires it? That's probably it. He doesn't seem like the type to lend a helping hand.
All that matters is that you've got someone to look after you! I can't tell you how happy I am! After I got your letter I started crying, but they were tears of joy! If I could reach over and hug you, I would. I'll be just fine here as long as I know you're OK!
Love,
Malon
Day 30 of Spring
Dear Dad,
I've got another inmate in my cell now. It's a man; I don't know what he looks like though because they keep a bag over his head. At least he's kept tied up all the time! They do that because he's apparently very dangerous. I overheard the prison guards talking when they brought him in.
The scrawny guard burst through the door at the end of the hall, "The things I have to go through," the sound of something dragging attracted the attention of all the inmates, including me. That's when I saw him, my new inmate. His hands and ankles were bound together with rope. His clothes are tattered. An old white shirt, brown pants and red suspenders that only come down on the left (his right) side because the other side had apparently been ripped off.
"Be grateful you get the chance to do this," said the manly guard, "We're making history here."
Barking in agreement, the guard dog that followed behind sniffed at the clothes of the new guy as they dragged him across the floor. The scrawny one was hardly pulling the new guy, the manly one was doing all the work.
"Aaaallllright, new meat," a prisoner from the end of the hall beamed mischievously. A few other prisoners made similar calls, calls they all said to me when I first came in here.
"But why do we have to take him?" the scrawny guard moaned, "I'm sure there are plenty of better places to keep this guy! He gives me the jeebies!"
"Well, we were supposed to cross countless of miles of scorching desert to take him to Arbiter's Grounds. Does that sound better to you? Or would you rather keep him here for Sarkis to take care of after he gets out of the hospital?"
All the calls from the prisoners halted at the mention of Arbiter's Grounds and were replaced by murmurs and whispers. Some inmates shrunk to the back of their cells, others gasped, and some could only watch in fear, hoping they weren't condemned with the fate of sharing a cell with whoever this man was.
"Arbiter's Grounds? No shit…" murmured a prisoner from across the hall.
I watched through the bars of the cell door, my heartbeat picking up its pace with ever step closer they took. They passed the first cell, which had three women who were anything but inexperienced with prison; they passed the second cell, which held one guy, bald and pale. He went by the name of Urall and was put in for either heavy assault or for being simply insane. They passed the third and the fourth one, which were simply stuffed of inmates I never learned the names of. I thought surely they were going to put him in cell six, which had three somewhat large men named Odess, Lionel and Brigby, who I had become fairly acquainted with. There were a few gasps in the room as they dragged the new guy past cell six. I was in cell seven.
"No, they ain't taking him into the singer girl's cell, is they?" One of the inmates in cell three mumbled from the bars of his cell door.
Lionel, the average looking middle-aged man from before, convicted for managing illegal cuccoo fights, spoke up, "You were supposed to throw that guy in Arbiter's Grounds, don't put him in with her! She's supposed to write me a song, how do you expect her to do that if she's got the company of a guy like that?"
"Not a word, 50702, unless you'd like to get your teeth knocked out," the scrawny guard said from the front of my cell door.
The manly guard threw a fist at the scrawny one's skull, "Don't be so rude to the prisoners, they're under enough stress already," the manly one then turned to Lionel's cell, "No room," he answered, "Would you rather you sleep shoulder to shoulder if I gave him to you?"
"Do it," laughed Urall, "I want to hear what he does to her! I want to hear her scream!"
"If you don't shut the hell up, Urall, I swear I'll make a rug out of you by the time we get to the showers," Lionel growled before he turned to plead to his inmates, "We could take another guy in here, right boys?"
His inmates, Odess and Brigby, are brothers who were caught in the act of a robbery. They looked to each other.
"Well," Odess whispered through his teeth, "It is pretty tight in here…"
"The new guy is tied up. He shouldn't cause too much trouble," Brigby yawned as he reclined against the wall, stretching his body out to take up the last inches of free room in the cell.
I backed up to the shadowy corner of my cell at the sound of the scrawny guard's keys shaking in the lock of the door. "He won't be in here long," he spoke as he opened the creaking iron door, "As long as he says tied up you should be just fine, he's drugged halfway to hell right now anyway."
That didn't keep me from trembling as he threw the man into the cell, his seemingly unconscious body scrunching me against the wall I sought refuge in. In my terror, I pushed him away with a shriek to the floor where he landed like a deck of cards. I felt adrenaline pumping through my veins, fight or flight, and it was fight. Though I'm sure my face had the same expression of terror, I stuck my fists up, ready for the worst. Perhaps he would squirm out of his binds and attack me, what if he had a weapon on him? There was a chance he would try to scare me into untying him by overpowering me, which was possible although he was almost the same size as me, a tiny bit bigger.
But he lay there. And lay there. And lay there. He muttered a few things, senseless gibberish under his breath along with a few chuckles here and there.
Eventually my arms got tired and the adrenaline had faded, so I lowered my fists. In relief and confusion, I sat back down in the corner of the cell.
"This guy was supposed to be in Arbiter's Grounds?" I questioned through the night as he continued to lie there. It was as though he were asleep.
I'm still too scared to sing.
Love,
Malon