Literature
The Box
The clanging of a baton screeches all through the cold and dark cells, only a slight crack is all the light they have. Light shines through the cracks in the old clay bricks. Corners of each cell; like pits to no man’s land, abundances of darkness.
Light shines off her emerald green eye; distorting quickly. Her head flicked back, out of the rare light strand. From lying on her side to sitting upright, she glanced around the empty cell.
Delicate old dragon wings; bounded with chrome steel, in a sort of handcuff fashion restricted all movement. Cramps often grinded every joint in her wings, making it quite painful to move them the slighte