Malcom

Ey was tired. Ey was tired a lot late­ly. The Friends had been caus­ing trou­ble and ey had been forced to clean up the mess. Pet­ty squablings and talk­ing behind each oth­ers backs. Noth­ing seri­ous, but enough to cause inef­fi­cien­cies.
Ey did­n’t have time for this.
Ey opened eir eyes. It took a moment as eir iris­es quick­ly con­tract­ed to block the over­ly bright flood­light­ing of the cell. Ey did­n’t both­er to get up, as there was no where to go. So ey lay naked on the floor. The cell was a small white cube, 2 meters along every side. There was no door, no win­dow, no open­ing of any sort. From time to time The Friends would come and talk to him phys­i­cal­ly. The door­way The Friends used opened in the wall ey had cho­sen to call north. But there were no mark­ings on north to dis­tin­guish it from any of the oth­er walls. Some­times when ey was espe­cial­ly bored ey would stand in the mid­dle of eir cell and spin around quick­ly until ey was dizzy and fell over, ey would com­plete­ly loose eir ori­en­ta­tion and it became fun to try and guess where north was. The only sur­face in the cell that was dif­fer­ent was the ceil­ing, con­stant­ly glow­ing brighter than the sun on a sum­mers day. Ey was­n’t exact­ly sure he still remem­bered what the sun looked like, but the idea remained.
Ey had all the time there was.
The Friends insist­ed that ey was not a pris­on­er. That ey was free to leave when ey wished. Ey knew that The Friends believed this to be true. It was per­haps a rid­dle, meant to tease em. Per­haps ey was trapped by the believe that ey was trapped.
Ey closed his eyes and got back to work.
[A dis­con­tin­u­ance from Max by Dave Gold­ing and its a SNOY PONY! by Mark Har­ris.]