First day at prison

First day at prison(Sachin Rahul) “...the jury has found the accused, guilty, and here by will be sentenced to serve a lifetime imprisonment”. As these words slipped through the judge’s dry lips, all my hope of redemption got shattered into pieces and plummeted to the court room floor. I felt a sudden crater of trepidation digging its way into my heart which was frequently pounding against my soaked chest. My paralyzed corpse was electrocuted and brought back to life by the pulsing tinge of terror that ran through my spine. ”Oh dear lord, I am doomed.”

A few hours later, the rattling, grubby prison bus arrived at the gates of the “Venomistes Jail”. From the little I could make out, it was a colossal U-shaped building built of water struck bricks that were decades old holding creatures like us. It consisted of about four stories and the blissful rays from above were reflected with nothing but a promising hell of a time for each of its visitors. A replica of the Big Ben was planted at the centre of the barren land. As the corroding gates of hell opened ahead of me, my chained feet refused to advance; a sturdy jailor stepped in, withdrew his batten holding arm to the air and brought it down to the back of my spatula with a crunching thud. I was demoted to my knees and my shrieks of agony were sunk in the uproarious laughter of the convicts behind the barbed fence.

Afterwards, all the newcomers were lined up like trained police dogs. The warden, dressed in a decent black suit, gave out the worst welcoming speech I've ever heard in my 18 years of life. As the warden left, we were asked to strip down to our birthday suits and get a shower. A huge, macho inmate who was covered in tattoos looked down at my groin with utmost disgust and smirked (as if to discriminate against my miniscule gentiles). Next, we were handed a ripe peach colored jumper and a pair of rubber slippers. Right after jumping in to my lifelong attire, I had just one thing in my mind “orange was definitely not my color.”

The lunch was as repulsive as its appearance. I dipped tiny morsels of hard bread in the unrecognizable ingredient containing soup and swallowed with difficulty. I could hardly take my third mouthful when a bold headed gentleman spat on my ration and greeted me, “Welcome to paradise”. He was as masculine as my shower buddy; a deep scar ran from the top end of his right jaw bone to the chin, his biceps were bulging out like a bodybuilder’s and I was not stupid enough to test his anger management skills. So I just forced a reluctant smile and continued munching pieces of bread. Next, the inconsiderate moron wiped the plates off the dusty table and swore loudly to my face. He crossed the line, the next few minutes were almost as if in a movie. I landed a heavy punch on his face, he lost his balance and plunged to the ground with a thud. Around ten supporting spectators joined in and gave into a huge riot; people were injured, walls were covered in blood and a shot was fired.

At around 5:45 pm I was escorted to my lifelong residence, cell 230. As the grubby iron bars opened before me, a horrifying hallucination of the three corpses I was responsible for, stared mercilessly at me. The guards pushed me with the end of the rifle into the last place on earth I ever wanted to be. I was stranded inside a prison for the rest of my life, these words alone made my Goosebumps come to life. The area of the cell was very limited; the only available furniture was a rickety bed. A petite high window close to the ceiling let in the final rays of the sinking sun which was followed by a solitary dimness. A stale, musty odour of rat feces engulfed the interior and the cement floor was covered in layers of dust and eradicated pieces of bricks. The intense alienated desolation was intolerable and unshed tears of regret were filled in my reddened eyes. As the view around me was replaced with pitch black darkness, horrifying flashbacks of me stabbing the three murderers of my girlfriend, made me gasp for air and shriek with fear. My monotonous wails were echoing across the building while my neighbors spat rude remarks at my less manliness. Salty tears of utmost dismay were disheveled upon my already sodden cheeks, after hours of whispering for help clutching the cold iron bars that cut me loose from the world, I lay down uncomfortably. My vision was being obscured by the closing eyelids and faint images of my parents waving happily at me from the backyard of our house were seen, a sigh was let out, a smile was faded and a murderer was asleep.