Behind Bars and Beyond; The diary of a dark soul 🗨️📖👾

 OK, so I had this small project that I had to do. And I generally like what I came up with. It's like a short memoir of a girl who spent her life in prison. It's quite dark but that was the point of it. I feel like it has quite a big cliff hanger so I'm going to let YOU, the readers, imagine your own ending. And if you want to share your ending, I'm all here for it. 

Here it goes........

I could never walk through those prison cells without remembering the

dark days I’ve spent there; collapsed in grief and fuelled by rage. My

heart was banging against my chest. Every page, every word had had

such a big impact on me. So big that I ended up here. I remember my

cell being faintly lit with nothing but a rusty oil lamp. The musty smell of

cement blended with the lingering traces of sweat made the cell an

unsettling atmosphere. The letters ‘GAZ WAS HERE’ was crudely carved

into the wall with what appeared to be nails. Their jagged edges

representing the countless hours he must have spent working on it.

Positioned right next to where my bed used to be, the letters added an

eerie, almost longing, feeling to the cell. I remembered when I had my

family picture propped up next to the bed. How much they were

disappointed with me, how horrible I made them look in front of their

friends and how their face was filled with sorrow for me. They asked me

why I had chosen to do this, and I had no answer. The question had

dwelled upon me till this date, taking up every free moment it could.

The choice, at that time, had seemed like a beacon of hope, of freedom.

Like a way I could fight off the monster that had, at first, captivated me

with her ability to weave words into nothing short of magic and then had

cut me off without warning. It felt as if she had snatched a huge part of

my soul away. The part of the soul that longed for the main character to

revive. Just one more scene, just one more dialog, just one more. The

feeling was too overwhelming, too stressful to control. I remember, out

of the blue, as tears would start flowing down my cheeks as my

shoulders shaked simultaneously to the sobs that escaped and when I

would stay up all night bluntly staring at the blank wall across my bed,

cursing her under my breath. I had to get my rage out on something. So

there I had

the plan. The plan that I practised every night before bed. The plan I

could recite without doubt. The plan that would change my whole life.

But now it all feels useless, like a waste of energy and of dignity, a

stupid plan made by a helpless teenager. 

After five years in prison, today, I finally get a chance to meet my family

and friends again. My mom, who once made scrumptious pastries for me

to share with my friends. My dad, who once cracked silly dad jokes to

lighten my mood. My best friends, who once helped me get to class when

I had a foot injury. But how can I see them eye-to-eye after what I’ve

done? How would they accept me if they see me like this? How can I

walk around town with the prison bracelet on me?

HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!