Behind The Bars [Short Story] ✅

Part 1

"Your case is not yet dismissed," the chief warlock informs me, snapping the thick decree book shut with a dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes still studying me. "We are not done. I will have to see you tomorrow."

Still with my eyes trained on the ground and observing the faint cracks that have snaked around them, I give a small nod. But then I hear the book slam on the table, causing my head to jolt up and finally meeting his hazy grey eyes. He nods at me, looking impassive as ever. The chair gives a screeching scrap on the floor as he pushes it back and getting up on his feet. The wizard, who has been standing behind him, hands him his travelling cloak and he fastens it around himself.

"Until tomorrow."

He turns on the spot and disappears, leaving us in this dank courtroom. The wizard then turns his attention to the trolls behind me. "Escort him to Dungeon Fifty-two."

Immediately, I feel a pair of large, thick hands enclose around my upper arms and heaving me to my feet. I almost stumble over my foot, as they have chained my wrists together - like they always do to any normal detainee. I am quite surprised to see that the trolls around here understand us, as they are normally so thick (no pun intended) and dense in their pea-sized brain. I don't object, though. I have been, after all, put in custody for a crime I have somewhat committed. And fighting these is out of the question. Besides, they have confiscated my wand, so I won't have anything to fight them with apart from determination - if I ever have that.

The trolls guide me out of the courtroom and into a dim and narrow passageway, lit only by bracket torches lining on one side of the wall. Our uneven footsteps echo around the low-ceilinged passageway, and I have to keep really close to the trolls because it is so murky in here - not to mention the sharp turns around corners every now and then. It makes me feel like we are in a maze.

I try to keep up with their giant strides; one is because it is getting cold in the passageway; two is because I am quite of a chicken when it comes to darkness. We walk up on a flight of steps, and there are small windows on the upper floor. There is nothing than the vast, deep blue ocean extending below the horizon outside. The weather has been really gloomy earlier, though, the rain hasn't come at all. I know it is around eleven in the morning when I arrived at this place, but it looks like it is dusk, despite the fact that the chief only interrogated me regarding my case for half of an hour.

One of the trolls - the one with a darker olive skin - heaves open a rusty metal door, admitting us to yet a darker passageway, but broader than the previous ones we had been walking through. When I step myself in after the other troll, I can see doors of bars replacing the walls, each one bearing a silver plate with numbers on it. I let my eyes travel to each cell, looking at the prisoners inside.

More than once, I can feel their eyes on me, so I keep mine focused on the backs of the trolls instead. Their stares are honestly burning on the back of my head. I am not surprised that they are bewildered to see a sixteen-year-old detainee walking past them, hands chained together. They must be wondering what I have committed to land myself in this gaol that looks more like a penitentiary. They must be wondering which school I go to and what form of dark magic I have performed. They must be wondering why I have not been sent to the reformatory centre, one which suits the juvenile.

They are all still staring at me, and I let myself stare back - because why not? My eyes land on one cell where it holds two prisoners instead of one. I feel myself sweat, despite the cold; what if they're putting me into a cell which is already occupied? I don't think I'll like it. I'd prefer to be on my own. And I always hear that prisoners are foul people. But I don't let that thought float away, since I am one of them now.