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Five Sentence Fiction: Isolation.

              He trudges along in his 10X10 feet enclosure, pacing up and down; his breath laboured, his grunts heavy with the pain that he has been suffering from, since the past few months.
          His failing vision giving him  blurry images of his master, with a whip in his hand, shouting out the commands, his eyes - weakened further by the harsh halogen bulbs; his movements - slow, his old legs, no more able to perform the stunts; the isolation had meant just one thing: he had lost his value, 
          His moans go unnoticed, his pain, untreated; how long before it all comes to an end? 
           Life is, but, an irony; the king of the jungle, reduced to a shackled slave; living a life of misery at the mercy of a heartless human, for whom he is just a means to an end, to be used and thrown, offering a few moments of entertainment, all the while suffering from an unbearable pain.
      He squints, as his gaze sweeps the circus grounds, and sees his life reflecting back at him from every corner, from every dingy cage; when WILL it all come to an end? 

[Lillie McFerrin Writes] Five Sentence Fiction - Isolated


  1. Sigh! Animals at the circus :(
    May 'The King' have an escape soon!

  2. I love this. Excellent use of the prompt!

  3. What a fabulous use of the prompt! I must get back to five sentence fiction. When my mind is without clutter, that is ;)

    1. :) This is my first five sentence fiction in a long long time. And, you are so right, Shailaja, it does need a mind that's without clutter!


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