- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Red Brick Prison. Chapter IV
He sat in the garden, of what could be called a garden. A grey bare yard, red brick wall encased, forger-me-nots winding in and out of the cracks in the old red bricks. No grass or flowers, soil or sand; just a square concrete.
There he sat, the bright summer sun beating down on his face. This was a rare moment of solitude outside of his room for him, He was out, the pub or the dog track, he didn't know or care. She was in bed, sleeping off her liquid lunch. So there he sat on his back door step, enjoying the warm summer sun, dreaming of the places he could escape to if he tried.
Sitting there staring at the clear blue sky, he wondered why he didn't just get up and walk away right then. God knows he wanted to so what was stopping him? He could start walking now and never look back; so why would his toes barely even wiggle? Did he feel some misplaced sense of duty towards her? Just because she bore his life, was he honour bound to protect her? Or was it fear that made him stay? Fear that wherever he went, the furthest reaches with the bluest skies, wouldn't be far enough to leave all this behind.
It was strange for him, sitting there in the bright sunlight, not to feel optimistic. But that was just the way it was today. He felt trapped, like most days, but today the idea of escape seemed further away. He felt alone, isolated, misunderstood by everyone even himself. He wondered if he would ever meet his lioness, and run free and happy along the shores of some distant land.
Today it was in doubt, he could see himself years from now, in a cell just like this one. Alone and fat, drowning the sorrows of his unfulfilled dreams in that same brand of scotch that she drowned herself in.