Thomas Newman

Entering the Gaol was daunting for him. The massive iron knocker attached the opening of the huge green wooden doors breaks the silence of the Gaol within. On the other side of the door keys rattle a tune of impending doom. Through the inner iron-bared gates is an open space where he is marched to be processed and put in a small animal cage – or so he thought. 
The cell which is to be his waiting place till he is called to another realm. He wears a uniform, heavy flannel underwear, thick jacket, warm trousers, and boots, enough to keep him warm in winter. He stares out through the bars towards a row of sheds and behind high walls surrounding a yard where the gallows will be erected. With vague liquid eyes he watches the sunset.