100 Words – A Bucket of Gruel

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“Next!”

They shaved our heads and stripped us of our possessions.

We’re forced into uniforms and our identities raped into numbers, some have forgotten their own names.

My steady surgeon’s hand used scalpels to save people’s lives once. Now it holds hard plastic and is weighted down with chains.

“Next!” the voice ordered everyone to shuffle forward.

It was her fault for making me teach him a lesson. She was the unfaithful demon, I was the angel of justice, of love.

“Next!”

A ladle scrapped the steel drum as the last bit of prison gruel was served on my tray.