Do You Hear The People Sing?

The cold and damp walls were oppressing simply by their existence. It had been raining the night before and water was seeping through the ceiling and running along the walls down further into, presumably, other cells and on other people. They'd cup their hands and collect water and give it to people who were sick or weaker. There were a surprisingly large amount of elderly people there as well, but also people of all other ages. This truly was an interesting time. More people swelled up in the prison and it seemed every day more people would come. Laments from prisoners were met with screams, not beatings as in the beginning. Even the soldiers became wary of the situation.

"It's too full," I had heard them speak among themselves one night, in whispers that everyone could hear "we need to stop filling it."

"We just keep getting more. All kinds of people. We put someone in here the other day for 'shaming the crown', what does that even mean?"

"We don't ask questions. We do what we are told, but we can't put more people in. It won't work."

Someone shushed them among their own once they realized that they weren't quiet at all. I was in here for stealing bread. A fair punishment, for it was the usual one. I had been here often. I had kept a tally of my days this time, for it was longer than usual. One day by one I marked in lines on the wall. Every fifth day I would cross it for a total of five. It had now 112 marks upon it. It seems they had forgotten me. Richard, one of the guards who knew me quite well, was exasperated every time I asked him.

"When can I get out Richard?" I would ask and Richard would sigh.

"It isn't like before Albert, they've got a lot more people coming. I can't sneak you out, they doubled the guards."

"Doubled? Why?"

"Unrest here, and in the farms. They are speaking of revolution, it's becoming louder."

"What's becoming louder."

"Us, the people." He smiled to me and I could not fathom what he meant. I was inside here, he was outside there. It was not us, it was me versus them. I don't know how he did not recognize that he belonged to the establishment. He was a damned guard in a prison. I had no sympathy with him.

"Another four, coming in, make way, make way." A moustachioed guard I had not seen before waved his stick around while another screamed at those near the bars to back off. I heard a scream as someone fell backward, holding their hand. Smashed by the stick no doubt. Three women were thrown in, and a crone. They shrieked at the guards once the door was closed, and so did everyone else. These were the first women in our area. In another block we heard rumour of an orgy, as some prostitutes were thrown in and abused. These poor women seemed more affluent.

"No one touch 'em." Shouted the crone and some men stood up and said they'd defend these women day and night. One of the women spoke up.

"Thank you, we are fishmongers. We had no more food, our stalls were closed and we went to riot. They got us and a few others."

"How are things outside?" A young man asked, it seemed none were interested in abusing the girls in our cell.

"Good! The fever grows and the people grow louder. They won't be able to ignore us for much longer."

"Casualties?"

One of the women lowered her brown haired head and nodded "They shot my cousin, and my brother is wounded. There are many being taken out in the streets. But-" she raised her head "we lynched a thieving, raping royalist and captured a noble mayor!"

Our cell nodded to one another and clapped, and other spread the news. A song began to flare up in the cells and the guards went around shouting and beating the bars, but we did not lower our voices. We got louder and louder, it was a great affair. The guards surrendered and we used the bars to enhance our cacophony of paroles. The people would be heard, even if they would not listen.

The sun was setting once again and we could hear shouting from outside and the odd shot of a musket or two. We tried to peer outside but could see nothing. "They're coming!" some shouted and we weren't sure who was meant. Would the regime have us shot in the prison? It would not make sense to shoot at the prison. "They are coming to liberate us!" was the choir that eventually resounded around the prison over and over. The guards were wary and the man with the bushy moustache tried to shut us up but we got louder still. Soon thereafter Richard appeared and he beat the moustache man over the head with his club.

"Stay down man! By god stay down or I will beat you to stay!"

The man laid on the ground, blood pouring from his head and with eyes wide in disbelief.

"What are you doing!? Have you gone mad like this lot?!"

Richard shook his head and began to open my cell. Just as he was to turn the key the moustache man rose up and wrestled Richard to the ground. Hands poured out of the cells trying to grab at the two but they were too far. The keys were still in the lock and while most were too stunned to do anything, I sprinted to the door and turned the key. I rattled the door open and fell upon the two, soon the others took the keys and opened the other doors and I do not remember how, but the man with the moustache soon had his head caved in, his face mangled as some repeatedly beat the lifeless corpse. Richard pulled me up.

"Come now man, let us leave. The revolution is upon us!" He smiled and I took his hand as he helped me up.

I looked back to my cell and noticed that men were working with pickaxes on breaching the wall, the revolutionaries had not managed to find a way through the hallways and found it easier to break the wall. My tally marks crumbled under the rocks as the wall gave way. Shouting, screaming, cheering, clapping. It seemed that the revolution was upon us. Despite the sun setting, it felt like a new day. We rushed back into the cell and out from the wall into our new freedom.