Fancy Prisons Novels & Stories

'' one of his fellow prisoners asked in the dark. The prison was actually a former dungeon of lions, a sign that the ruling family weren't as saintly as they claimed to be. Although Biyako wasn't thinking that they were entitled to some mercy because of their sins, they at least deserved some humanity. The dungeon stank of feces and rats were running to and fro across the cold stone ground. The space was so small but there were at least a dozen of them. He was shoved in here with murderers, arsonists, pyschopaths, and other criminals who were far worse than him.

I throw a bunch of questions in as we travel through the Cardinal section of the palace to the public one, slipping past back corridors as to not run into anyone, before reaching the communication office. To make Malcom feel more comfortable I tell him to call me Leona, but seeing the visible discomfort and unwillingness I decide not to pursue the subject. But he does become somewhat relaxed—he does not flinch when I move a bit quickly. "And what about the prisons?" I ask in what I hope is a very casual tone. Just as I calculated, Malcolm does not pick up. He laughs as if I made a joke then says, "Prisons are not kept in palaces anymore, your majesty. The capital prison is on the other side

I could not wait to do it because this piece of shit deserved every ounce of pain that we would be offering him during his long prison stay. “We should get on with fixing this tracer issue so that you can get comfortable in your new home away from home. Your next stop is Carceris Doloris,” Imeela said with a pleased grin. We all chuckled as his face paled of all color. Nobody wanted to step foot in Carceris Doloris because they knew that was where they were at the guards’ mercy. Only the worst of the worst went there.

The holding facility was not a prison; it was a sensory deprivation chamber designed for the dissolution of the soul. They didn't call it a jail. They called it The Processing Center, a concrete-walled monolith buried deep beneath the city's old financial district. When the guards threw me into the interrogation chair, the cold metal bit into my skin through my thin sweater.

I shrugged and walked on, determined to see this idea of hers that she had to get Antonella back. We walked for a long time, looking through the iron bars at the angry faces of the thousands of prisoners that we had locked up there for the littlest of reasons. Most of them had been there for the better part of their life and whenever there was no available cell for a new prisoner, I had the guards pair him with an old prisoner. Finally, Freya came to a stop at a cell and she turned to face the guard that was standing nearby. "I want this cell opened," she ordered.

Windows on the exterior are small and secured with sterile colourless bars, bearing metal grilles, acting as deterrent for escapees. "I need to get inside it!! I love it!!" Ryan jumps with joy, "Absolutely love it! There's no other way this showroom could have been any better!!" He willingly arrests himself in the cell, "This is really the best, Sir! Kudos." Floor covered in plush red carpeting, feels thick and indulgent underfoot, the softness of carpeting opposes the harshness of the bars, creating a striking juxtaposition. Walls of this prison are wrapped with luxurious velvet wallpaper, soft to the touch and exquisitely textured. The deep red velvet serves as a visual feast for eyes, cre

he asks. “Under construction.” “You are funny. I know you are bored. That is why you made this account.” “You are right. I just need someone to talk to.” “Can I have your phone number?” “No. I am in prison.” “Federal or state prison?” “Mayor's prison.” I answer. “What did you do?” “Having sexy boobs?” “Those are natural gifts. How is that a crime?” “I got the wrong judge.” “Then I need to ask for a retrial.”

"Alright. As if I still have a choice." With Arnold's escort, Dexter and Narsha headed to the central prison belonging to Arnold's pack. As Dexter had warned earlier, the place was completely different from the internal prisons Narsha had seen before. Upon arrival, the sight of the large, gloomy building, with its dull walls and barbed wire circling above, made her gasp slightly. The prison stood in the middle of a basin surrounded by a dam, like a haunted house trapped in a dark valley. Adding to the horror was that Arnold had the power to open the dam gates if the situation demanded it, flooding the prison.

she explained. That calmed me down but also confused me. So they were truly here because of their crimes. I didn't think this was better than prison. “So everyone in here is convicted?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. “Yeah. You're given a choice. For smaller crimes, you choose between prison or the harem with half your sentence time. For greater crimes, you choose between the harem or death.” A cold chill ran down my spine. Who had come up with the idea to pimp convicted felons?

A vampire army made of healthy young athletes was one thing—but a vampire army comprised of violent, brutal convicts was quite another. He chose to fly, this new ability being the one he was most excited to utilize. After years locked up inside a tiny cell, being able to swoop and soar through the clouds was exhilarating. It felt like freedom to him, and the sensation was as powerful as a drug. Kyle saw the prison in the distance and shuddered. Even from here, it looked like a horrible place. It was built with drab gray cement and was surrounded by two separate wire fences, each over twenty feet tall and topped with spikes. It was one of the highest security prisons in New York, and most of