Thread by @Oganwald

Trying something different; a story in a thread.
#shortstory
* * *

I heard them bring her in, a cell down the corridor from mine.
Sarted the same way, noise of carriage wheels on cobbles, clanging of locks, creaking of doors chains dragging on stone, protests of the accused.

This time, raised voices drifted down the corridor. The watch commander's deep, booming tones drowned out the voices of the woman's captors.
"...the hell am I supposed to put her? She needs an apothecary, not a prison!"

"...yeah we do, for DRUNKS! Going to take more than a nights sleep to cure that! Look how much she's shivering!"
"...oh really? How much you going to give me of that? Nope, didn't think so!"
Rest of the discussion was quiet, a negotiation of sorts.

Then, putting the exchange to rest,
"...BEFORE breakfast time, no later. Go and get your cursed reward. If any of my men or prisoners die because of her, you'll be paying me for the trouble!"

More sounds of argument, then the doors closing, locks put back in place.

She passed my door, she had no chains. She could hardly stand, let alone walk, so two guards half carried her down the corridor. She shivered, eyes half closed and unfocused, dark hair stuck to her pale face, rags for clothes that hung from her frame.

Later I woke, two voices passing my door.
"...sure it's her? Why's she down here?"
"Of course, they found her wandering about by the shore, little bit full. No space in the vagrant cells so stuck her down here."
"Good good. Shame she didn't drown, the trouble she's caused."

"Now you can make sure it's done, right? They'll queue up to pay your debts after this."
"You'd best be right!".
"Yep, sure. Here we are, bring me the key when it's done. I've only got it for an hour."

I heard the lock in the door, opened and closed, then hurried footsteps.

The man who hurried passed my door, I recognised him. Like me, he was here picking oakum to pay off debts, except he had high up friends. Probably had the run of the prison.

What fate had he allowed the poor woman to face? In spite of myself, I listened...

The other man's voice carried to where I lay.
"There you are, my little flower. Not so tough now, are you? No spells or magic to save you now, eh? All those people you hurt, livelihoods you wrecked, widows you made, and it's me who's here now."

I heard the woman respond, her words quiet and slurred.
"Too late for that now." His voice was almost a whisper. "Look at me. You're going to know it was me who put paid to your schemes, witch. There we go. Say hello to Tom for me, I know he'll be waiting."

There was a pause, then a gag as the sound of pierced skin echoed down the hall.
"See you in hell, foul creature." Then a clatter of metal on the floor.
For a moment there was silence, then he muttered, his voice full of surprise. Another pause, then a noise of pure terror.

I didn't know a man could make such a noise, that of sudden and absurd horror. It shook me to my core.
I heard him struggle with the lock, then drop the key. A pause, then a roar.
It was like nothing I'd ever heard, from something of a size I couldn't fathom.

The floor shook, dust fell from the walls. Two loud, floor shaking thumps, the steps of a giant, then another chilling scream. It stopped with a choke, as if the ability to make sound had been torn from the man's body. Another roar, I pulled my blanket over my head.

I lay and shook, the sound of bones and ligaments being torn apart, then the solid metal door of a cell being hurled across the hall into the stone wall opposite, landing with a clang.

The footsteps began, louder and louder, I had no desire to see whatever it was that was about to pass my door.

* * *

To be continued...