⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ His arms lay limp on his side as he sat on a poor old stool in the corner of the room, away from the metal barred windows—set on top where could not reach even if he outstretches his neck—his mouth tightly shut as his eyes stare at the lonely bars that kept him in. His throat tightens when a bird chirps from the outside—he imagined where he was. In an old gray bricked building just a little far off from the coast where tall trees are—where the birds happily chirp, mocking him in his distress. He closes his eyes, envisioning what he had imagined. Everything was black for a while, as he had expected. Then he slowly threw in an old gray bricked building, from the one he’d seen in a movie then the coast from another movie he’d seen a long time ago—maybe he was eight or probably even three—he doesn’t remember.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ But his thoughts about the outside world doesn't last long—it quickly swirls—colours are mixing. From blues to reds to greys and greens, it just mixes like a mixture from a cake. It is quiet for a while—something he wished always happened. Then from watching everything swirl, a hand reaches out from it, shocking him and making him try to open his eyes—but…

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ He couldn't.

Entry for Karma's Third Writing Contest. For more information, click here.

Poster by -kwons from We Got Fired.

(Just to set the theme. I've been listening to these songs while writing this story.)