Inmate Character Letter Novels & Stories

A piece of light in all this darkness? Jatine quietly slips out, leaving us alone. Caleb shifts a little closer. “You deserve better than this,” he says, not looking away. “I don’t even know what this is,” I whisper. “A prison. A throne built from bones.” I sigh. The silence between us stretches, but it isn’t uncomfortable. A knock at the door. Jatine returns, her expression unreadable. “A letter arrived.” She hands it to me and exits quickly. The parchment is familiar, the handwriting even more so.

I read it. * My precious angels, Helion and Yuvonne. I don't know how this letter will greet you, but I have been sentenced to life. Yeah I know it doesn't sound nice, but what is out there for me again? I have lost my husband and I have given you people up for the country. There's nothing out there for me again. But I am seeing my times here as a second chance to amend my life. Take care of each other. I will always be with you. Xoxo.*

“That’s the letter we received. The rest of the guys are already outside and waiting I your team vehicle. They are waiting for you. Like I said, your reputation preceded you so they know you already. I have no say in how you control your team, they are in your hands now.” Chara nods as she shakes his hand again. “Thank you. We’ll set out now.” “Alright, have a fun day.” Chara chuckles, “You too, Mr. Henderson.” She exits the office and in the elevator heading down for the lobby. In there, she holds up the letter to see where they are headed. She chuckles and then laughs out loud. “Campbell Hospital?” She reads the whole letter and then laughs again. As the elevator doors open an she steps ou

was clean, flawless. As for the content, it was short to the point of being a blatant cover-up, containing just one sentence. > *Don't come back. I am under house arrest. Negotiating.* --- I let out a cold laugh and pulled the crumpled, real letter from my inner jacket pocket, spreading it flat on the cold operating console, side-by-side with the fake one on the screen.

look. "Madam," Oryn said quietly. "What is it, Oryn? Did the clown try to steal the silverware?" "No, Madam. The mail came." He held out a hand. In his palm sat a single envelope. It wasn't the thick, cream-colored linen paper of their usual correspondence. It was cheap, thin, recycled paper. It was gray. It had a stamp in the corner: DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS. INMATE MAIL. Vespera stared at it.

Amelia’s hands shook as she tore it open. “Dear Superintendent,” she read aloud, her voice tight, “you are hereby ordered to transfer Amelia Stone, inmate 22598, to Manchester Maximum Irongate effective immediately.” The superintendent leaned closer, lowering his voice. “So… what’s it going to be? You can accept the transfer… or I can help you stay here for a price.” Amelia froze. Her chest tightened. “What… no. Absolutely not!” She ripped the letter in half and let the pieces fall to the floor. “To hell with going anywhere! Who hates me enough to do this? Who would even dare?”

You provided the courage. *Tell Evelyn her uncle Blake says hello. Or don't—whatever feels appropriate. I understand if you'd prefer I remain a footnote in your past rather than a character in your future.* *Either way, I'm glad you're okay. Both of you. Finally.* *- Blake"* I sent the letter knowing it would take weeks to reach Vermont, knowing Aloe's response would take even longer, knowing this slow communication was all I had for the next six years. The routine of prison became oddly comforting. Wake at 6 AM, breakfast, work detail in the library (assigned based on my business background), lunch, rec time, dinner, lights out at 10 PM. Each day identical to the last, each week blurring in