Four spotless, marble-white walls glared at him. He felt trapped inside, like a moth beating its wings in the dark.
Day one is always the hardest. Then four more years and you'll be out - free to start anew, have a second chance at life.
Free to go back to square one.
He was jolted by three knocks on the door. Short. Sharp. They lingered in the air. Rang in his ears for a while afterwards. An unfamiliar woman walked in. Her bleached hair, unblemished skin and cold, hard eyes pulled him from his flurry of thoughts.
The woman began to speak, but he didn't listen because he didn't care much. He stopped caring a long time ago. Her last words, however, drifted into his consciousness:
'...the Superintendent will be here shortly; you will talk for ten minutes. I will leave now, if you do not have any questions.'
The Superintendent.
A sea of memories and emotions threatened to swell inside him. But he couldn't let himself drown in it this time. The dam he had built inside his mind had kept the thoughts at bay. At last the tides abated, and his features settled, as still and unmoving as stone.
Footsteps entered the room. He looked up to see their owner: a young man of thirty years, at most.
'Superintendent.' he acknowledged the young man.
The young man's face was frozen, sequestering any hint of emotion. In his eyes, though - in those vast ocean eyes, he found himself. The resemblance was uncanny. They softened as he spoke:
'Hey. How are you settling in?'
Into prison. They had both accepted that fact.
'Me? I'm doin' fine', came the nonchalant response.
More generic questions were asked, received by the same, terse answers. All the while, he couldn't stop staring at the young man's eyes. How different they now looked! He stared with a childlike fascination.
Soon, the tears came. The dam had not worked, after all. The tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, then trickled down, gaining momentum. Then his lips began to tremble, as the tears came faster. Harder. The young man saw, but said nothing.
An alarm went off, signalling the end of ten minutes. The Superintendent rose gingerly, and, straightening his uniform, murmured:
'I need to go. You hang tight in here, alright?'
'Alright.'
The young Superintendent ventured:
'Goodnight, father.'
Then, came the gruff reply:
'G'night, son.'
The son's deep blue eyes lingered on the father's face one moment longer.
Then, they were gone.
YOU ARE READING
Struck by Lightning
Poetry~ Highest rating: #16 in Anthology! ~ Electrified, Her ideas flowed through the nibs of her pen, And etched rivers into the minds Of all who read them - Until those, too, Began to bubble at the edges of their consciousness, And waited For the lightn...
