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The Window


The man looked at the children playing in the streets a few blocks away from the window of his room. Oh, how he too longed to be free again;to enjoy life without any worries.

He sighed. Ever since he was brought here, everything had changed. Every night, before he went to sleep in his little room, he vowed to resist,to protest, but when night turned to day, he found himself unable to do anything. And each day’s story was the same as the last. He would be made to rise early by her two “cronies” and her, injected some liquid, and then he would be groggy for the rest of the day.

However, today he felt that enough was enough. Perhaps, the sight of children playing had given him some courage. Yes, he would speak his mind today.He would not allow himself to be manhandled. He would resist. Yes, that he would.

He heard her. She was coming to his room. He heard her footsteps, the ones which made him feel that disaster was approaching.He heard the door open. She was standing in the doorway with the two cronies, he could feel it.

The two “cronies” turned his bed around so that he was now facing them.

‘How do you like the new room, Mr.Matthews?’, she asked.’See, it even has a window.’

She knew there would be no response. Matthews had not uttered a word since he was brought to the hospital.He had not even moved more than a few steps in all these days. Still, she was trying everything she could to make his life easier by giving him medicines to ease his joint pain .He did not like it, that she knew. But, it needed to be done.

She reached into her pocket and took out her syringe.



I am a researcher by day and an avid reader at night. Interested in short stories, travelling and classical music.

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