Prison Pen Pals Novels & Stories

she texted back I laughed at this as I left her in suspense with a thought of visiting her tomorrow. One bright morning a middle aged gentleman stepped out of prison carrying a back pack. He had a blank look on his face as he shaded his eyes with his left hand against the light. His original prison sentence had been cut short as a result of a pardon by the president who visited the cells a few days ago. He had fought hard in prison to overcome drug use. He sat on a bench near the roadside. As he sat quietly he thought about his life over the span of eleven years.He recollects lovely moments spent those early days with his wife whilst working together with their country's secret service .He

Lunch was served 12 noon on the dot at Bedford Women’s Penitentiary. The once empty hallway is now dotted by orange clad ladies, each aiming for sustenance to keep them on their toes until the next meal. Life inside is not always staying inside their cells. They have activities and tasks and their social skills—even if its limited—was still exercised.

He smiled. "You two are disgusting! But I have the joy of saying this is the end of your dirty business!" I gave a big smile. "You're going to be transferred! Look at that, isn't it great? Ever heard of the Federal Penitentiary? Twenty-three hours locked alone in a cell, no TV or radio, individual yard time of only one hour, no contact with other inmates, visits once a month lasting one hour. Oh, I almost forgot, visits are monitored, conversations recorded. There are even conjugal visits, but getting one is a huge bureaucracy and it's also only once a month. In short, it's a beautiful place, just you and your conscience, practically all the time. And you're each going to a different peniten

Phin could tell that she was as frustrated with her brother as Phin was. Finally, Josh admitted, “No.” “Then you don’t know how you only get a certain number of phone calls to people outside every day. How you’re told where to sleep, when you can go outside. You’ll sleep in a dorm with other prisoners, no privacy, nothing. You’ll have to save up money or hope someone outside is kind enough to send you money for anything you’d consider a basic luxury—soap, a razor. You’ll never get a moment alone. You’ll always have someone watching you.”

Dear Pen pal, Hello. My name is Wesley. I am 12 years old, and I am in 6th grade at Crescent Lake Elementary in Northern California. I’ll be honest, I am only writing this letter because my teacher said we have to. She said if we don’t, we’ll get an F, and I am not about to fail an assignment and ruin my track record of perfect grades. Plus, my dad would probably ground me or something. Anyway, I don’t really want a pen pal. I have friends here at school already, so why would I need to make friends with somebody who doesn’t even live here, someone who I’ll never actually meet?

I let one tear slip out of my eyelids. It wasn't fake because I was speaking the truth. I had done a little research, and in Fox River Prison, once a person gets jailed to life imprisonment, especially for murder, visitation hours were only once a week for 15 minutes, and there is no physical contact during that time. Imagining it alone was too painful so this was my last chance. He stared at me, a blank expression on his face, and then he sighed; at one point, I thought he had given in until his next words hit me.

The headlines now read like love letters to their corporate marriage. My fingers tighten around the phone until my knuckles go white. Ten years in that hellhole of a prison, and for what? To watch them parade around like some power couple success story while I scrape together schemes that fall apart faster than wet tissue paper. The bell above the door chimes. I glance up, and my breath catches. Elizabeth Walton.

Mickey punched him lightly on the shoulder, then quickly stepped out of the long dark hallway into the special room at the front of the prison building. Unknowingly Alex smiled seeing Mickey walk away. For the first time, he makes a friendship with an inmate. Something that had never crossed his mind before, now it suddenly became something that felt natural to him. Maybe life in prison wasn't all that bad. There are interesting things he found here. Sincerity, friendship, and bonding. Alex's footsteps carried him deeper and deeper into the room at the very end and into the darkest part of the hall. The prison was reserved for the most rotten criminals, the skinny and the blonde.

Ari's still looking at me, ignoring Brad's departure, "But, Dina, if you don't have a phone, how do you contact your parents? Your friends?" "I don't have friends." I tell her, then hesitantly adds, "Well, I have one friend. We're not talking right now, though. I send her and my parents letters instead of text messages." I turn away, embarrassed. I don't know why I just shared that with her. "OMG. I would love that too!" Ari exclaims so loudly, it scared the wits out of me. "Oh please, can we be pen pals? I've always wanted one. Can we? Please, please, please."

I sighed, placing the coffee mug on the table and leaning my head back, staring out of the window and my mind took me into memory lane, 8 years back. I was a teenager then and still deciding on what to do with my future. Among the few friends I had during school, I had one friend that many didn’t know of. A pen pal. We had never physically met but occasionally talked on this app where we could connect with people of similar interests. Sometimes it’s easier to share your emotions with people you don’t know personally, with people you have never met because you aren’t scared that they might judge you. And even if they do, you don’t care much because it’s just a stranger.