Prisoner Novels & Stories

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Miller, sir,” my cellmate said. “If I could just get by you here…” “No problem, Mike,” I said. Prison was a terrible place to be, but for a made man of my rank the situation wasn’t quite so bad. Mike edged past my legs, head down. He was a cleaner for the R-27 mob, in prison for multiple murders. Five that they knew about. Nice guy. Professional. I hoped he’d be able to relax around me soon. We could play chess. We’d need some way to pass the time, although he’d probably get out before I did.

ELARA Hayes appears, and checks Richard's pulse. "He's alive. It is a shoulder shot. He'll survive." "Good." Damien kneels beside Richard, who's gasping, and clutching his bleeding shoulder. "You're going to prison. Real prison this time, not the country club facility you had before. Federal Supermax. Twenty-three hours a day in a concrete box. No windows. No visitors. No chance of parole." Richard coughs, blood on his lips. "You can't—"

Relief washed over Nora, but along with confusion. Dante had made sure Nora was accompanied, even for the simplest tasks. This included her going to the toilet, which was right outside the locked room. There was nothing but a thin sheet of cloth to shield her from their watchful eyes. It offered only the slightest bit of privacy. At first, she didn't have to worry about it. There was no food or water and her body had nothing to expel. But as days passed, even the most basic human needs became something she had to endure under their watch.

"Hey, who are you? Are you planning to take the girl away? Take me too!" "Please, take me too!" "Me too! Help! Help! I need your help!" "I'll pay you for the rest of my life, as long as you free me!" "Me too! I'll do anything if you help me!" "Help! Help! Help!" Instantly all the prisoners were in an uproar and they tried to whine at the man. The man looked increasingly agitated and a little scared as they were all noisy now. Which made the man just stare at Selena who covered her ears because of the noise and commotion.

Who was this prisoner, and why was his record sealed? "I want you to keep trying to access the record," I said, my voice firm. "I need to know who this prisoner is." Kane nodded, his eyes locked on the screen. I turned and walked away, my mind still reeling with different questions. “Got it!” Kane clapped his hands, instantly gaining my attention. “What is it?” I turned to meet his happy face. “Sylvester Darkmoon.” He exclaimed. “What?” I gasped, my voice ringing with disbelief.

While some of the nurses—who Deloris discovered were rarely actually registered nurses—napped in a nearby chair waiting for alarms or commotion from their patients, others read or stared for hours on end at their cell phones, no doubt heightening their social media status with pictures of kittens and puppies or better yet, political propaganda. Adelaide’s nurse, a big burly man named Mack, was fond of his social media, yet he often chose sleeping as his favorite way to pass the time. As I eased through the entry from the courtyard—the one that Isaac had left unlocked—I envisioned the scenes I’d watched multiple times. I recalled Mack securing Adelaide’s hands. I heard his tenor as he mocked

He was at present penniless and had previously escaped an attempted hardship. The past winter, once more being hungered and frigid, he had allowed a patrolman to capture him. Alas, this time the ploy failed: when he was brought before the umpire, he was considered too old to go to an orphan home, and he was thrown into a penitentiary instead. Prison had proved to be a disastrous price to pay for some bread and a roof over his head. The situations were even more desperate than in the orphan homes. He was in a tiny, moist cell with dozens of other felons, with a few dusty chunks of straw for a pallet. His fellow inhabitants were a blend of hoboes like himself, trivial fugitives, debtors, madme

My life took a huge turn. I was no longer Victoria the baker. I was Arianna Bocelli, Alejandro Amato’s prisoner. “Let me go.” I dug my feet into the ground as Capello pulled me along, ropes digging into my skin. I’d recovered from my momentary shock and become dangerously stupid as I continued to yell at men who wouldn’t bat an eyelash as they sent me to the world beyond.

The towering gates of the maximum-security prison loomed ahead, a foreboding sight that signaled the beginning of his incarcerated life. Upon arrival, the air crackled with authority as officers meticulously followed protocols to admit Ejay into the highly secure institution. Each step within the facility was shadowed by vigilant guards, their watchful eyes a constant reminder of the severity of his confinement. As he passed through multiple checkpoints, heavy doors sealed behind him, locking away any remnants of freedom he once possessed. Ejay was ushered into a cell within the confines of the maximum-security prison, the iron bars a stark testament to the formidable nature of his lifelong

He must have it bad due to his incredibly awesome sense of smell. "Where the fuck is the jailer? A prisoner has died here and is rotting away but the jailer didn't care to dispose of the corpse. I said, where the hell is the jailer?" He yelled and almost immediately, a fat man came running in. "Oh please forgive me my Lord, I've been off duty for a few days due to ill health and I only returned tonight. I took a small bathroom break but I haven't checked up on the prisoners yet. I deeply apologise I had no idea that someone had died." The jailer went on his knees and apologized despite being an elderly man. He's aged so I know t