Under The Morning Rays

• Abbey Fusarelli, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2010

As the morning crept over the city, so did he to my cage. His sour breath stuck to me as he edged closer. I don't understand what he wants from me. I am no value to him, and yet he remains to keep me imprisoned. His tattered and torn clothing hung from his body, his sallow skin sunk into his cheeks. He had a deep hoarse voice, he often called me his 'pet'. Of what I could fathom, he was a very loathsome man, one who didn't have many friends.

The space in which we shared was very diminutive. It was illuminated by the morning rays peering through the worn cloth placed over the only window. My cage was confining, I could barely stretch my limbs. In the putrid space I was kept I had memorised every deface, every imprint, every mark. In the room the wallpaper was peeling from age and was cloaked with a layer of water stains.

He was glaring at me for a while, I don't recall seeing him blink or move a muscle.
"You're a pretty girl aren't you my pet. You must be famished." He said in a ghostly voice.
He sauntered out of the room and entered shortly after.
"Eat, eat my pet." He said with an abhorrent smirk upon his face.
He tossed some bread crusts and drifted to the desk where he sat and began to write on paper. I kicked the crusts to the corner and observed his quaint behavior. His writing pace accelerated, each time more furious than the first, clenching his fists while wailing and groaning.

He stood up swiftly in a rage and dashed to my cage where I rest upon. He swung open the cage door and clutched me by my shoulders and grasped me firmly in his grimy palms. I blared out a screech as loud as I could. By his facial expressions that only seemed to pleasure him more so. His foul hands slid to my neck and sent chills down my spine. I was thrashing and struggling to overpower him, but I was so lethargic and tired. It was becoming rigorous to breathe. I could feel my enfeebled body slowly turn blue, I was completely and utterly defenseless against him.

I can't let him win, I can't surrender, I told myself. I struck and fought for my life. His joyous expression soon turned wrathful when I began to become loose from his grip. I thrashed one last time with all my strength. His sticky hands were unleashed from my frail body. I was free! I fled to the corner and looked in every direction, in an attempt to find a way out of this torturous space. I looked to my left and saw that window. My heart was pounding, my chest was heavy, I got up and I eluded to the window. I flew out, freedom at last! A single feather slowly fell to his desk as I felt his captivity.