prison cell - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I hear the sound of breaking glass, yet this time it is a music that vanishes deep scars; for I am the one escaping a prison invisible to others. Wounds heal as if my blood were liquid magic. Then I watch the shards shrink in moments as if the waters of the ages had weathered them to friendly gem-like pebbles, soft to my soles.
These walls cannot hold a prayer, nor a spirit. And so I call to the universe, I promise all the good things I will do when I am released, and at first it appears that nothing happens. Yet when she does, it'll be some random occurrence of happenstance, something I could never predict. So, though this wait is tough and I long for the sunshine and the grass, the passing is a little easier for knowing I have my invisible friend.
Baby, come as close as you can to the prison walls and whisper love songs into the tiny cracks. I can forgo the golden beams of light, I can suffer nothing but bleak walls for company, but love I cannot live without. Tell me of the days to come, the ones where we walk in meadows, a feast of colour for eyes that have seen nothing but grey for so long. Tell me of how we walk hand in hand to the river and wash our weary feet. Tell me of how we will feel the warm light of the sun on our skin and hug like our love is eternal. Tell me of how we'll watch the fish make their way through cool waters before heading home to rest in each other's arms, always knowing a fresh dawn will come.
Surrounded by four white walls, there was nothing else to do but stare at them. To look at the paint that had started to chip off as time passed, or gouged by other prisoners - anything to pass time, slowly going mad, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare.
That prison cell is the most secure cell there is, 1050 miles from the surface dug by Quattra Earth Dwellers, the masters when it comes to digging. Walls made of stainless steel move in in a circle 2 meters deep in all directions, then reinforced concrete 500 feet in all direction, armed guards watch 24/7, armed with laser, tear grenades, samurai sword, bullet and laser proof shirt, pants, shoes and a helmet that also blocks of hypnosis. The guards are all the highest level in karate, Taekwondo, and Samurai sword practice, there is a chute for food which comes down in bottles and water comes down a separate chute and then the chute closes.
The prison cell was barely six feet by four. The walls were the same thick grey stone as the dwellings of the region, but instead of a wide window with a flower box there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass. In the summer the fresher air was a relief, helping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage but in the cold seasons it let in a wicked draft and reduced the temperature to near freezing. It was no brighter inside than the gathering gloom of dusk, even at midday. The bed was a plank of wood on legs, there was no mattress, no cushioning and only one thin blanket. It was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured inmates.
The prison cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind. It was all an inmate could do to feel the cool walls, but even they were smooth.
The prison cell was more like a room in a five star hotel. It was where the corrupt businessmen where held while their charges were fixed higher up the food chain. Everything about it was sumptuous. The bed was king sized and soft, made up with the finest Egyptian cotton sheets. There were leather armchairs and recliners. There were computers and plasma screen TV's. There were telephones and vases of fresh flowers. The only thing that gave away the rooms true purpose was the heavy wooden door with bars at the window, and a guard stationed outside 24/7. Although truth be known, the guard was actually more of a waiter providing room service around the clock, attending to the whims of the 'guests.'
I've got to give it to 'em. Our enemies don't just build prison cells they pour pure hatred into the design. This box is more like a coffin with headroom and the only light is what creeps in under the door. The floor is five feet by two, enough to lie down at night with raised knees. The only sound other than inmates banging rhythmically on the walls is the audio they pipe in from the torture rooms, of which there are many. Ten minutes after the morning shift has begun the screams are layered one on top of the other, a gruesome choir of pain.
The prison cell was more of an open air holding pen, containment with no protection from the elements. The walls were metal rods laid in a criss cross pattern. The stench of sewage was ever-present and the inmates were crammed in so tight they were constantly touching one another. When food came the strongest ones ate every bite, no thought of sharing. Crying or wailing was the quickest way to die, a heavy would ram the person's skull into a pole and lie them next to the doorway for removal. It wasn't so much of a tool of a justice system, more or a place to put inconveniently rebellious people. The prison itself was on the way to the market for most towns folk and the trail went right through the middle. As a law enforcing spectacle it worked for generations, the worse the prisoners suffered the better.
There were no such things as material prisons anymore, only prisons of the mind. It wasn't difficult to plant enough phobias in a person that they were rendered incapable of leaving their home. Food arrived by delivery van and the inmate would have to pluck up enough courage to open the door and drag it in. No guards, no fuss, just conditioning for severe agoraphobia ...
Prison cells had become simple beds with cranium caps and electrodes. Once under the influence of the simulator the prisoner was sent to relive their crimes from the perspective of the victim, over and over. Everything was simulated perfectly, right down to the correct levels of pain. The prisoner could change gender and age in the simulation, not know who they were before... Sometimes waking them up killed them outright, the shock of who they really were, the killer rather than the killed, the rapist rather than the raped. But if they survived they were changed...
We went inside the complex slow, silent. The air inside was different, and for a moment I was unable to put my finger on why. Then it occurred to me, the smell of sweat was gone, there was no sound of people, nothing but the eerie silence. But that wasn't the worst of it. This place is just walls, walls and giant empty rooms. We had entered one of the places Lucy believed people had been held before they were experimented on. Here we could feel the icy grip of death.
The lights flickered up ahead. In the distance the faint sound of water dripping from an old dingy drain pipe splashed into a puddle on the floor. In the gloom all she could make out were the four iron barred walls that locked her in. In the water dripping silence she sat, back against the cold iron bars, waiting.
Her stomach grumbled, echoing round and round the chamber walls until it faded into nothing. In effort to stop the pain she grasped her stomach only to feel the familiar feeling of her bones, crushed under her tight skin. She’d been in the cage for as long as she could remember. He’d visited her for as long as she could remember. Three times a day. Never to talk, never to help. All he ever did was inject her with that serum, and it was about time he showed up.