Monday Writing Prompt

There was a single chair tucked in the corner. A beam of light from overhead spilt through a hole in the ceiling. 

My watch a 25th birthday present was stopped at 7:45pm. The face had cracked and bits of glass distorted the numbers. There was a drip of water from a rusted pipe running alongside the ceiling.

There was no visible door.

600 drops had fallen since my watch stopped. There were no windows. A single black 7 was spray painted on the inside. No shadows crept under the door.

An overwhelming absence surrounded me. The drips an deafening echo. My last murky memory a stranger and an envelope. Undoubtedly my insatiable greed led me to this box.

The sun had risen and set before any sign of life emerged. A few crackers slid under the door. Nothing more…
Who had made this makeshift cell, my would be tomb…

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