Cellblock by Steve Snodgrass CC BY 2.0
In the silence rusty locks creak as ghostly keys open the cells. Through the dust mote dance in the light a daily life continues. The shuffling of the slippered women in drab drill smocks shuffle down the corridor out into a hall.
Read on at Walking With Bastet in Prose: Ghostly Keys – Short Fiction – January 21, 2016