Prisoners Poems Novels & Stories

He paused, letting the words sink in. “A warrior who hesitates is already dead. A warrior who can't kill an enemy cannot protect his people.” Another pause. “And a warrior who refuses to put himself and the needs of the people first has no place being called one. In Dark Hound, we chose ourselves first. Be selfish. It's all about you.” The second he was done with his speech, the lights came on at the far end of the yard, revealing the prisoners. All of them. Guards moved forward and began pulling the sacks off heads. Faces appeared, most of them battered, the rest exhausted. But I could tell they had been tortured by some bunch of sadistic maniacs. Was everyone in Dark Hound psychos?

The others followed immediately. The sight that greeted them stole the breath from his lungs. The prison was changing. Golden cracks covered the ancient structure from top to bottom. Only minutes ago they had looked like fractures in stone. Now they resembled wounds. Open wounds. Light poured through them in enormous rivers. The glow illuminated the entire valley. Thousands of people stood frozen around the encampment. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Everyone stared. Watching. Waiting. Then the prison moved. Thomas knew how ridiculous that sounded. Prisons weren't supposed to move.

That night I could not sleep; I clasped my hands, curled up, and sat in a dark corner. I held that position for a long time, so long that my limbs went numb, and I gradually lost all feeling. “Ahhhhh, please spare us, please….” From the cell, next door came the sound of people crying and crying. The screams in the middle of the night became louder and more painful. That was the number of prisoners taken back in the battle a few days ago. I'm thinking, where will their fate go? Will they be sent to the slave areas to serve the pack, or will they be executed to show respect in front of everyone?

The guard’s voice ripped through the air: "GATEKEEPER!" With a deafening, thunderous roar, the massive gate began to descend. As it lowered, the inner courtyard was revealed inch by inch. The prisoners were a mosaic of distraction and despair; some prayed and chanted, others dissolved into heaving sobs, while some spat curses and insults at the stone walls. Lara, however, belonged to the silent ones. Externally, she was paralyzed by a profound stupor, unable to reconcile her reality: she was standing on the threshold of a prison—a place that was not her home...

And I was sent to put behind bars at a special prison call point of no return. Indeed, there was no way I was going to come back to meet my family. The painful thing is that once you are captured like this no one knows your where about. All of them who were captured were Police and military officers. With time Prince was also brought to our prison and they locked us. Myself and Prince were only civilians among the lot. When I looked Prince I saw him as somebody who has been saving children and I have seen him on tv many times. So I got hope that no matter what this young man would escape from Prison.

I asked him. “The keyhole is on the other side,” he said simply. “I don’t think there’s ever been a time when a prisoner wanted to lock himself in even more.” He wiped the blood away from his arms and rubbed his palms together. “Shall we? Unless you want to hear the insults the Poisoner wants to throw at you.” “LEAVE FOR GODDESS’S SAKE! CLARA! DAMN YOU! YOU INSUFFERABLE LITTLE BRAT!” Felix screeched.

When the door opened, it led the path to another tunnel. This time, Raeherys found the place almost like hell. Most of the cells contained living, but only mad and forsaken men. Some were silent, some crazy, and some were crying for help. The foul scent filled the air, mixed with the stink of sweat and of piss. “Aldin, Aldin is that you?” said one of the mad prisoners they passed by. One kept on laughing by himself and one was staring at the dark wall. “Help me …” one woman cried as she reached her frail hands out of the prison bars.

The kind of tension born from months of relentless training. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, big man. Yeah, your muscles show you’re a fighter, but your demeanor doesn’t.” I stare at him, trying to understand where he’s coming from. “Get the hell out!” he roars to the prisoners expecting a second drama. The prisoners scatter, leaving just the two of us… and a few of his men. “I said leave!” he barks again, and the remaining ones disappear from the bathroom. “This prison is home to murderers, rapists, and violent offenders of every kind. Blackridge is a fire meant to purge them of their iniquities… or burn them in it.”

A woman, her beauty tarnished by the ravages of time and hardship, stood behind the rusty bars of her prison cell, her eyes pleading with a figure shrouded in darkness. Her tattered clothes hung loosely from her slender frame, a testament to the hardships she had endured. As she spoke, her voice cracked with emotion, her words tumbling out in a desperate bid for freedom. "For how long do you wish to keep me locked in here? Haven't I suffered enough? How much do you wish to punish me for a single mistake?" The mystery man remained statue-still, his face hidden in the shadows, his presence marked only by the faint sound of his breathing. The woman's eyes strained to penetrate the darkness, sen

Instantly, a dungeon comes to view which consists of several stone cells, cold and deserted. There are heavy metal chains in them and many of the walls have writing on them. Most of the writings are ramblings of past prisoners who lived there and had gone crazy until they died. Some of their skeletons still remain in the cells, rotting away even after death. If there is one thing Sloria does not believe in, it is to be merciful to its enemies. Anyone who tries to disrupt their peace are locked in the dungeons where a slow poison kills them over a course of several months. The poison is not always used and only reserved for the most fearsome criminals who dared to harm Dmitri or his people. H