Tagged: jail

The Ipswich Jail

  • by KentI still get goosebumps
  • for the first time since breakfast
  • thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow
  • without a handrail to guide you
  • you should wash that spoon

Tune in next time part 59                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Ipswich jail had one of the coziest holding cells I’d been in, but I still get goosebumps remembering my time there. With nothing to do but wait for Lyudmila, I lounged on the cot while Tessa paced. I paid little attention to her for an hour or so, but then noticed the troubled expression on her face. I was about to ask what was wrong when her look turned icy, and for the first time since breakfast three days ago, when I drank six cups of black coffee, I was utterly awake.

That coldness in her gaze made it impossible to imagine anything but winter. I thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow, and shuddered convulsively. The lights in the jail went out, and I heard the cell door open in the inky blackness.

“You can leave the cell,” Tessa’s flat voice said from everywhere, “but the jail is like a maze, and without a handrail to guide you I doubt you’ll reach the outside before they restore power. Oh, and one other thing,” she intoned as I stumbled out of the holding cell and my foot skidded on something metal laying on the cement floor, “you should wash that spoon.”

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