Stone Cells: A Short Story

I didn’t sleep well at all. I was having a severe bout of OCD and was tortured by having to get up out of bed several times. I had a roommate, which added to my stress as I was terrified of bothering him. I was extremely restless and depressed all throughout the next day. The realization that I was locked up became more and more intense and I knew that there was no one for me to turn to. I had voluntarily admitted myself to the Stephens Unit, but I later found out I had an affidavit next to my name that allowed the hospital to keep me against my will until I was evaluated by a psychiatrist. I asked one of the nurses if I could be given any form of medication that would help get me through the night. She obliged, but it likely was nothing that would be completely helpful, because there was no psychiatrist there to even prescribe something for what I was going through. Nevertheless, I was somewhat hopeful that my depression and anxiety from being there would get marginally

I soon fell asleep and woke up to the sound of traffic and people yelling as if someone ate the last piece of pie on Thanksgiving. Being half sleep my eyes weren’t fully dilated so I couldn’t see but with one wipe and a closer look at the sign I see the words, “Lew Sterrett Justice Center”. We had arrived at the local jail of the Dallas County. As we walk to the entrance, I was so scared I grabbed papa hand hard as possible. We came to a huge black door with tinted windows so no one could see through. Papa pushed a big red button to the right of the door that mad a loud horn sound. Then the door slowly opened and revealed a room with a door, metal detector and two officers.

I woke up in the cell again, hungry and tired, it was 5:00 in the morning and I did not know what was about to happen to me. I wondered and wondered then realized I was about to find out. The man came back with the handcuffs and I was brought to the king’s chamber and he explained to me that he was throwing me out of the farm. I was useless because of my disability. I was to leave and never return.

The rooms were confined to themselves by a large metal door with a small slot about 5 feet from the floor that could only be opened from the outside. The walls were once a brilliant white, but now filled with the scratch marks and blood stains from the ones before me. The room stench of urine, most likely from the other patients. All there was in the room was a small cot with a mattress so thin, it almost looked as if it was a thin piece of plywood. As I laid there strapped to my bed by leather restraints that were made to “protect” me from myself, I kept pondering on the question “what did I do to deserve to be locked up in a place like this?” Then I remember my crime, and smile.

I thought to myself, I just was a little girl who loved having her freedom. When I realized that I was in a hospital bed, I began to cry my happiness went away. I started giving up on myself because I knew that I was heartbroken that could not enjoy my life anymore. I just wanted to feel the fresh air, eat my favorite food, which is plantains and fish, and listen to the bird sing instead of staying in a bed all day. When I touched my face, I felt the heat. The only thing I can taste in my mouth the hot flames. I went back to see the doctor and I found out that I had damaged scalp on my head and that I had to cut my

When I wake up, I am in an actual prison. Or some sort of cell, at least. It was just three tall concrete dividers and a door. I could not get out. Someone comes to get me and I am questioned.

After days of being in that horrible box, it was finally opened, my hope had come true…. Or so i thought. We move further down below the deck and to my disappointment it got a lot worse. We were chained to these wood plains and had to lay down right next to each other (every inch of my body touching someone else's). It was so uncomfortable, but that wasn’t even the worst part…. It smelled horrible, liking taking everything in the world that smells bad and mixing it up together. This was because many had vomit due to the poor conditions not only that but you had to pee right there and then. Also, since we were in the sea… everyone one was getting toss around like toys which cause many to be sea-sick. All we can do now is pray … well not even that because all our energy was gone. We didn't have energy because we didn’t get fed and when we did it was the most awful rice and beans that look so nasty it makes you want to gag. I was tired and shut my eyes for a bit… when i opened them i noticed my friend was died, it made me cry so much; but i shortly stop because a crew member unchained me and took me out of the room. I was escorted to a room filled with white men they all used me like a toy and then made me witness a man getting hit with a whip on the back. Me not being the smartest decide to go and try to help but end up getting hit myself which hurt really bad. They would do dreadful

I took a moment to absorb my surroundings. An unbearable silence occupied the room. The only thing that could be heard was dripping coming from a leak in the roof that streamed down onto a puddle on the floor. This place has become unbearable, and it’s starting to get extremely strenuous surviving here, but escape would be impossible. The last person who accompanied me in this place always talked about it, he would spend restless nights obsessing over every inch of the tiny room. Taking down notes and measurements on a scrap of toilet paper, using a pencil he had managed to sneak in past the initial weapons check. He thought he had it all figured out. On the third night I awoke to a part of the wall missing, my cellmate was gone but outside I could hear shouting and gunshots. Quickly I gathered this was the night all his planning had lead up to. Unfortunately he had underestimated the capability of our captors, and that was the last I saw of him. I spend my time sitting in the corner of the room alternating from wondering if I will be set free, or just killed. I know too much now, seen too much. I’m nothing but a loose end to these people, they have no reason to keep me alive. If I was released…what then? Could I really face going home, could I live with what I have done? All those lives lost because of my incompetence. Good

After an uneventful first day, on the second day the prisoners in Cell 1 began to revolt and become quite abusive towards the guards. The guards then took it upon themselves to handle the situation themselves without any supervision even though they were all briefed and told they were not permitted to use any physical violence against the prisoners. The guards realised that handling the prisoners with only three guards per the shift was hard and therefore introduced their own “privilege cell” which meant that any prisoners not involved in the riot got special rewards, for example, nicer meals. However, the prisoners who were awarded with the privileged cell chose not to eat the food provided, possibly because they felt as if they were art of

I'm chained to the hard stone wall. The chains are digging into my wrists,and ankles. I haven't eaten for months,everyday I waste away. More and more I feel as lf my body is devouring itself. They refuse to feed enough to fully sustain myself but enough for i could fight. I silently laugh at myself,looking down at the rough scars that marred my body. Each scar told a story about the person I killed. I could fully heal the scars but they reminded me of the lives I took. Reminded me that I'm no better than an animal.

I am blindfolded, drugged, and wake up in a tiny room with no way out,

As the narrative moves forward, the prisoner assumes he’s been sentenced to death. He awakens alone, in absolute blackness, for which he questions whether he is dead or alive. His thoughts pirouette between abject terror and self-imagined

A voice lingered through the dry dusty corners of the holding cell. I lifted my stiff, bulky body off the sooty wood floor. The rusted cell gate creaked open gradually and my aching chalky hands were bound with contrasting shiny silver cuffs, a feeling I would never get used to. An elderly man with a timid look in his grey hollow eyes whispered, “It’s a quick kick of the bucket, it’ll be over in a jiffy.” Suddenly blazing golden light filled my weary drooped eyes. As I blinked in the sunlight, I was aware of a murmur of voices and then a sudden silence. I looked up and saw a crowd of people, just there gawping at me. I stared back for a moment, trying to see if I could recognize anyone. I saw a few of my neighbours who could not meet my gaze

The cold room shivered me from my sleep. My body ached as if I’ve been run over by a truck, but my hands and feet are free. I forced myself to move but couldn’t find the strength, with one last thrust, I jerked myself just enough to loosen the mask from around my face. The clean air helped me regain consciousness as I rolled myself off the bed. I stumbled towards the door and opened it slowly only to be thrown back by a large guard in black tactical gear. Lightly dazed from the impact, I played possum for a moment, so the guard can lower his weapon. When he grabbed me from my arm without hesitation, I forcibly yanked him down and constricted my arm around his neck between my bicep and forearm. Then, I tightly compressed with all my power like an anaconda would squeeze his prey before consumption. Finally, the guard stopped moving around and lost all consciousness. I gave his head one final thrust “Crack!” to confirm he won’t move again. I stripped the armored uniform off the guard to disguise myself so I can escape. When I removed my shirt, I noticed a large gash across my body. The gash was bonded together with a clear compound that felt like flesh. At that moment, I realized they left me for the guard to kill.

Everything is normal in the prison, or at least as normal as a prison can be, until I look in the mirror. Every time I look in the mirror, without fail, I see myself as a school boy. Everyday, I go to my job, making license plates in the shop. Other than lunch in the old brick lunchroom and my few bathroom breaks, I stay there until bedtime. At bedtime I retreat through long corridors, past endless cells, and finally arrive at my room. Though sparse and uninviting, I always feel intense relief when I return. I lie in my bed and am asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow. In the morning, the buzzer sounds, the light blazes on, and I get up to repeat the cycle. After countless months of this cycle, I notice something askew. It’s hard