MYSTober 2024

31 vignettes based on single-word prompts. One story.

28. Instability

The Prisoner curled up in a skinny heap in the corner of his cell. He was waiting for the Warden to leave. They usually left him alone here. He would often wallow in self-pity and reflect on his plight – there wasn't much more to do.

He didn't know how long he had been here – he had lost count of the days somewhere around two thousand. He measured them by his meals, which were always very small. There was a time when he was called Jacob. That time was gone. The Warden had made it clear that he was now simply the Prisoner. Barely a 'he' at all, but an 'it'. He didn't know why they kept him alive.

The Warden stood in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder at him. "Don't you go anywhere, now," he teased. Then he closed the door. It made a loud *thonk* sound as it locked.

In a flash, the Prisoner was at the bars of the cage. Two specific bars – the wobbly ones. He had been shaking them as much as possible when he had the strength. The Warden didn't know. He thought he could squeeze between them now. After all, he was very thin, and they were very wobbly.

He reached one arm through, and then a shoulder. He pushed the bars apart as hard as he could in his weakened state. They moved just a little – just enough. He got his head through, then one of his legs. Then he twisted around to push his chest past them, followed by the rest of him. For the first time since there was time, he was out of the cage.

He collapsed on the floor and cried. Then he reared up and shouted to the world in victory. The room surrounding him was cold, but he had never felt better. He ran to the door and turned the wheel as hard as he could. It barely moved. He pushed on it harder. It had to open. Bit by bit it rotated, until finally it snapped open with a *choonk*.

The Prisoner wasted no time in pushing the door open and stumbling up the stairs. Water fell on him from above – rain. He had forgotten what it felt like. He'd forgotten almost everything from before he'd been imprisoned – everything but his name, Jacob. But he had no idea who this 'Jacob' was, if there had even been such a man at all. Was he even a person any more? Maybe the Warden was right. Maybe he was an 'it'.

He emerged at the top of the stairs beneath a canopy of trees. Two small people who were playing in the rain ran from him, screaming. That settled it – he wasn't a person. He was a thing – a Figure in the woods. An 'it' after all.

The Figure ran after the small people, though in its weakened state, it couldn't keep up with them. It limped, and tilted, and bumped into trees. It knew only one thing: it once had a home, and it needed to get back there.

MYSTober 2024

Table of Contents

28. Instability