The room is small, though not quite as small as you'd remembered. The few water stains around the edge of the tiny barred slit of a window are almost friends, each curve and indent traced over and over by your fingers. The door... the door must have been replaced. Instead of simple, sturdy wood or solid steel, now it is nothing more than array of bars. You can see the hall clearly.

Not only sights, but sound await you. Footsteps somewhere, the clank of chain against stone, a faint crossbreeze when someone opens an out-of-sight door. No one walks past, although occasionally nearby doors open, granting you the half-heard speech and soft cries that slowly become familiar. A full day... it's raining somewhere by evening, a trickle of water working its way down the wall to pool in the slight depression in the center of the floor. No drain, and for that you are actually grateful - the rainwater is the first thing you've had to drink. As your lips brush the stones and the water travels slowly down your throat your stomach makes itself known, both in protest for the awkward position you find yourself in and as a nod to the hunger that is coursing up your body, leaving your throat tight and your legs weak.

No sound other than faint shiftings, a few tiny tears cried in one of the many rooms that open into the hall outside your door. No light. Nothing until the sun rises and a rattling, creaking noise soon shows itself to be the wheels of a scuffed and stained cart. The person pushing it is long-haired, face hidden by the tumbling locks, body too skinny to give any indication of gender. Two slender chains lead from the cart's side to the ankle cuffs of its pusher; as a bowl is pulled out from a shelf near the bottom of the cart and brought up to receive a ladle of what you know from long experience will be nothing but tasteless gruel, you can hear the chains chiming. A closer look reveals the tiny silver bells hooked to every fifth link of the chain.

The pusher slides the now-filled bowl through the unberred slot at the base of the door, never glancing up, not speaking. Only once the bowl is completely inside is the cart reversed to travel back down the hall again, leaving you to suspect you are at, or at least near, the hall's end.

*blinks slowly*

It's being a very odd day. I may write more, later.