The Man In The Cell

Waisted at the waist, at the weakest part of the week, she hauled herself to the bleak hall to hear the compliments that complement her message.

She received mail from the male who sent her scents and badly written letters. She had taken all her jewellery to town to sell for the man who resided in the cell.

This former bear of a man was barely able to lift his head to gaze up through his pain to the barred pane, wishing the reign of rain would soon cease.

He had met his fair companion at the village fayre – she has been a sight to behold at that pretention of a site. She had become his idol to whom he would sacrifice everything. His dream now lay idle.

His great misdeeds grated on him daily. He ached to travel to the United States as a coal miner. Now he was blocked forever by offences that were not minor.

Each night, cries went up, aloud for all to hear. These men were now no longer able to see their daughters or sons. The next day, the sun would burn their red eyes.

They knew it was their fault, and no pretense of a new life would bring back the joys of the past.

About catherinehume

Catherine Hume: Writer, social care worker and a liver of a life less ordinary.
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