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The Prisoner: Creative writing

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Downloads to date: N/A | Words: 2100 | Submitted: 2010-04-04

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Every month or so we were entitled to a visit to the prison doctor, I had just had the results back from my blood test and the doctor gleefully announced that I had liver cancer, and when I tried to found out more he just chucked me out of his office, for months I thought I was going to leave the prison in a body bag. I learned later that my blood test had been perfectly fine, and the “good prison doctor” had told me I was dying for his own sick amusement, this showed me that there are some people who don’t deserve to live within a community, people like him should be behind bars. The anger I felt months after came back to me in waves and each time my anger seems to boil within me and made me feel like a porcupine was crawling around with my head. I refused to let myself go, I had to stay more human than the others.
I would never allow myself to cry in front of guards; crying would be letting that cruel expressionless eye know that they were slowly destroying me, dehumanising me, and I would never let that happen, I would always stay strong. However, often when no-one is looking I place my head down on the table and I unconsciously let a tear drop roll down my cheeks, these were the moments that made me realise that there is always goodness anywhere in some shape or form, whether it is a kind jail guard or a moment to let your emotions out.
Sometimes in my cell I would just close my eyes and dream, dreams of beautiful sunsets, the sky ablaze with a combination of fiery red and flaming orange, magnified by the still cool ocean. I would see a beautiful beach with the clear blue water lapping at the golden sand, little toddlers skipping down the beach stopping every so often to examine a pebble/stick that amused them. The smell of salt in the clear blue sky consumes me as I fall deeper into this heaven, I often flashed back to my childhood, when I was young I used to spend most of my life at my mother house, it brought many memories flooding back to me. That is where I learnt to ride a bike, I remember the absolute euphoria I felt when my mum let go of the bike and I realised I was riding it on myself. Look mummy, look at me I’m riding a bike! That must have been one of my best moments. I recall the times I sat doing my homework in peace in my wonderful lovely bedroom where the light shone through the window, and little bits of dust floated in the air. I loved that place. I feel I am in control when these moments happen, they can take away my identity, they can take my self-respect, but they will never destroy my imagination.
I reckon I deserved that place, I didn’t believe this while I was there, but I do after some reflection. The child’s family must have been devastated. I stole his life, and he was only 4 years old, he had his whole life ahead of him, he could have been a famous surgeon or a brilliant author and I simply snuffed out his life. I know now that it is not right to only care about yourself and not give any humanity to the other people around you. Prison certainly put me straight, if I was paid £1,000,000 to go to prison for another minute I would refuse, that is how hellish a place it is.
I still dream every day of my freedom, it has been around 10 years since the start of my sentence. I am only halfway to the end of my pain and suffering. My rebirth in the “free world”, I still feel as far away from this as ever. I feel as if I am trapped in a dark cave where the only escape is suicide, I know that suicide is wrong and I will never fall to that evil. Which is why I must wait out my time, I will let myself slowly be degraded in the confinement of the prison bars within my mind and my reality.
I can see the day I am released in my mind.........
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