Twenty Years
The single electric light hangs bleakly from the low ceiling. There is no relief from its harsh reality. Jack is startled by a loud banging on the door. It flies open and a rough mob pushes aggressively into the small space. Jack gets up quickly from his mattress and faces them. Their leader approaches and punches him in the stomach. The others follow his lead. In minutes they have gone and Jack is left cringing on the floor, bruised and bleeding. They have taken his day’s meagre supply of food.
Slowly he picks himself up off the floor. The wind has been knocked out of him and every muscle is aching. He can feel the jagged remains of a broken tooth with his bloodied tongue. He reaches painfully for the metal cup on the floor, rinses his mouth with the dregs remaining in it and empties the spittle into the bucket in the corner. Defeated by the inhumanity and injustice of life, Jack slumps on his mattress. In despair, his mind turns to ways to end this brutal existence.
His arrest at the airport had been a nightmare. He was usually very careful about his luggage when travelling but that time something had gone astray. One of his cases had been lost in transit and when it turned up he had had to claim it from Customs. He had no explanation for the drugs they had found hidden in the bottom of his suitcase.
He was devastated by the injustice of the twenty-year sentence. The only way he could see to survive it was to live for today and have hope for tomorrow. The prison system is brutal but at least he wasn’t facing the firing squad, although some days he wonders whether it might have been easier than the unbearable hand-to-mouth existence he is living.
The quiet knocking on his door is almost imperceptible. Jack is wary and stays silent. The door handle turns slowly. Jack is relieved to see that it is Mohammed.
“You OK? Heard that mob in the corridor. Was worried about you.”
Mohammed approaches Jack on the mattress. He kneels on the floor and begins to examine Jack’s injuries. When he is satisfied that there are no broken bones, he returns to his room and comes back with a bucket of water and a rag. He pours a cup of water for Jack and holds him by the shoulders as he drinks. Gently he wipes Jack’s face and arms, talking soothingly to him all the time.
Jack is swept by an overwhelming feeling of love and compassion. He remembers that it is the care and concern that he and Mohammed have shown for each other that has enabled him to survive the last five years. He reaches for Mohammed’s hand and holds it tightly.
“Thanks mate.”
Kerry
18/1/09
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4 comments:
From Rick
Phew! Was that ever intense Kerry. An all to common occurence these days, with How did Those Drugs get in my Suitcase defence. It was shocking to think around how Jack survived the 5 years. The power of love makes it all survivable.
I liked it too because it was so not Kerry. Your pieces have mostly been very upbeat and it must have taken something to try this bleak picture.
A very minor point I would make in criticism is that it's unlikely that Jack's prison cell would have a simple door on it that Jack or anyone can simply open or close at will. I don't think prisoners with a 20 year sentence get the luxury of any kind of privacy.
I found this a really powerful story, Kerry. A regular guy finds himself caught in an unimaginable nightmare and works to find his real self in this situation.
The juxtaposition of brutality and solid human kindness is stunning.
Your word pictures create a visceral atmosphere. It's hard to be with that much injustice.
Well what a powerful story and unique storyline. Your imagination certainly takes you into some very creative (and dark!) spaces. I loved the opening para, a great visual share! and had me instantly transported to his prison cell. And the ending almost has me in tears - its a very poignant and caring scene, also vividly shared. My only comment is around the background couple of paras where he's arrested "and devastated etc". I think the tense gets a bit mixed up. Great piece and a powerful read. Sue
A very different take on the prompt, Kerry, and very strong.
I would put something as sudden and unexpected as the violence - the first punch - in a new paragraph, so that the reader gets it clearly and firmly, as Jack experiences it.
He may be used to the violence, but the reader isn't!
The imagery takes the reader into the experience as Mohammed comes in, and leaves a powerful lasting impression.
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