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She always watches quiz shows. I want to screech at her to watch something different. Put on a nature show for Heaven’s sake. I long to get away from her and her stinking lavender perfume, which lingers for days. I’ll bide my time. She’s edging over to me, gold key in hand. She’s baring her teeth, which are the colour of tea. The door creaks open, her balled fist enters, seeds begin to escape her grasp. I bolt, flap my wings, catching her ear as I sail past, straight to the window, out into the blinding sun.
| Writing Prompt |
In 100 words, or less, write a short story--not necessarily a flash-fiction, though it could be--on the theme/subject/topic of 'prisoner'. It could be literal or metaphoric. |
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The Prisoner
Contest Winner
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