Ficlets

The Walk

Walking along the cold stone hallway, its walls glistening in time with the flickering lights hanging overhead, sounds of life begin to rebound along the walls. At first, they are no more than a low, indistinguishable menagerie of noises.
As you are led further down the hall, the echoing sounds trigger a cacophony of voices that increasingly explode in your ears with each report of the lights in your eyes.
“Loser. ...re no child of mine!”
“Help! ...ur father who art in heav… Stay away from me!”
“NO!” You fall to your knees realizing the last outburst was your own. Two sets of hands grasp you gruffly around the arms and force you to your feet.
The lights flicker one last time as a corner is turned. The sounds that were a distant mumble become an assaulting discord to your ears.
As you look out upon the stacked rows and rows of bar covered cells packed with the orange jumpsuit covered human refuse of society, a gravelly voice rumbles right next to your ear “Welcome to your new home, meat.”

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