Monday. The remorseless, gloomy week had begun to already wrap its repugnant claws around my freedom so that I could not escape. The thick, blank, walls of solitude joined almost too perfectly in the moulded square hall, as if to intentionally trap like birds in a cage. The view was so depressing that my gaze was turned upwards towards the ceiling in search of some hope; instead, flies lay lifeless within the lights.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Tip tap tip tap. There was an eerie rhythm echoing in the open space; everything seemed to move slower here. A figure strolled through with her head held high and hostile, crow like eyes watching down, daring for anyone to meet her gaze. We all stood like soldiers dressed in our forceful uniforms to salute our dictator. The air was stiff. Just then, the great clock chimed. It was time. Her dark heels screeched to a halt across the clean floor which had clearly been polished, with rivulets of sweat. Her gaze now fell on us, and as I stole a glimpse of her, I felt her sharp eyes beam through her subjects as a curious smile broke out between her thin, painted lips.
The merciless wind rumbled – it was as though it was trying to turn the trees around into a tortured sculpture. The tremor of leaves hanging from thick branches thudded again and again, beating against the distant windows of the hall. We wait, anxiously anticipating our warden's command, but her static presence stood a few moments like still time. She teased us with the silence. At that moment, I longed for summer; it was but a far-off dream. Imprisoned, we were locked in place, next to inmates, which was infused with the essence of washed clothes, and the strain of wearing the coded black shoes.
The hands of the clock stuck past 5 minutes, time was on her side. The uneasy tension stiffened my muscles, threatening a cramp – stomachs growled ferociously. The room quivered, almost with terror as she continued to stand, silently creating an uneasy atmosphere, but I reminded myself, this was only Monday - the usual routine of starting the week with a morbid assembly.
Finally, her morose beak opened, but as she began in her gruff voice, it was suddenly replaced by the sound of cawing crows bashing at the now so near windows…
