The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Chains and Locks
by Kim Richards 

Chains and locks

Locks and chains

Keep me from ill-gotten gains

I bashed his head with a rock

Splattered the dirt with his brain

He will never hurt me again

Locks and chains

Chains and locks

.

Snap. The tip of my pencil broke and flew across the room. I heard shuffling from behind me. I had no need to turn and look. I knew who it was. Her rancid body odor drew close enough to burn my nostrils.

Josie looked over my shoulder, then her raspy voice burrowed into my ear, “Just because brain and again have similar spelling doesn’t mean they’re pronounced the same.”

I shrugged. Who cares?

She patted my shoulder and shook her head. She shuffled over to her bunk and stretched out on the thin mattress. Sweat glistened on her skin so she wiped her brow with one corner of her sheet.

“Damn, I wish they’d put better air conditioning in this place.”

The air was stifling hot. We both knew better air would never be a thing. Sure, when incarcerated, you have rights. To be comfortable isn’t one of them. Not in this place anyway.

I said nothing.

I hoped my cell mate wouldn’t complain to the guards. They’d laugh and turn off what air we had. Anytime they wanted to be mean it was in the name of penance; they’d tell us so as if it were fresh news. Our chains weren’t confined to those clamped around our ankles and wrists outside of our little cell.

I gripped my pencil with a tight fist. Now, I have to ask them for a sharpener.

Josie kept talking. Her voice buzzed around my head like a fly.

I pursed my lips and let out a deep breath through my nostrils. Her voice and stench were coming closer. I rubbed the pencil with my thumb. It’s not a fly swatter but it’ll do.

Kicking my chair aside as I stood, I spun to face her. It clattered on the tile floor.

Josie’s eyes widened and she stopped talking. She raised her hands to defend herself but I moved fast. With a thick thrust and a grunt, I drove the broken pencil tip into her eye.

She screamed so I withdrew the pencil and stabbed her eye again. Blood splashed on my face. I licked it from my lips as she fell to the floor, bleeding and crying.

***

Chains and locks

Locks and chains

Now they protect her from me again.

.

Proud of my poetry, I close my notebook. At least in solitary, it’s quiet. The air’s better in her anyway.

.

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com