Prisoners Poems Novels & Stories

Just as the soldier was about to turn away, I finally gathered the courage to stop him. “Excuse me, what crime have I committed?” I whispered. “I don’t know!” The soldier closed the prison door and was about to lock it. “Wait, didn’t the prince tell you anything about me? Like when can I leave here?” I asked, my hand on the prison door and my face almost pressed against it. The guard looked around warily before locking the prison door and saying in a low voice, “The prisoner opposite you was locked up by the prince for stealing. Now that he’s dead, do you think the prince will care if you’re dead or alive? No one cares about the life and death of prisoners here, no one!” I immediately let

S‍er⁠a⁠ Winters Som​etimes​ the worst​ prison isn't the one that h‍o​lds‌ y‌ou​r body. It's the one that makes you‌ want to stay​. ‌ I didn't l‍eave the libr​ary.

I asked, remembering all the screams we heard. Kohen sighed softly and reached for my hand. We were in the front yard because it felt a little suffocating inside. I was filled with worry over Olga, Crawford and Henry. I was worried about what they'd do next. I am more worried about my friends than myself. “All the prisoners and guards in the maximum prison were wiped out. They were burned alive, and some of them died a gruesome death. I'm certain that Crawford managed to form another team of psychopaths, and that bitch is one of them.”

“NOW!” They blink, realization hitting them in the face. And then chaos erupts. The air fills with the sound of chains hitting stone, shouts of disbelief and the shuffle of bare feet against the floor. The prisoners pour out like a flood, pushing past me and Mustachio. “We’re free!” they shout. “FREE!” “LONG LIVE LORD EZRA!” More footsteps approach, louder now, from the entrance of the dungeon. The guards. More are coming. But Colin is still within sight, just near the opening.

But all I found was solid concrete; an impenetrable barrier standing between me and my freedom. Resigned to my fate, I slumped against the cold wall. The silence of the prison cell was deafening, broken only by the distant echoes of footsteps and muffled conversations from beyond the bars. The rest of the cell mates gazed at me pitifully but no word would dare the boss. As darkness descended upon me, a glimmer of hope emerged—a plan forming in my mind. If I couldn't break out physically, then perhaps there was another way—a loophole in the system that could lead to my exoneration.

Nate didn’t belong here, Lian and Sora didn’t belong here…neither did the witches. We turned the corner for the first time, and then I saw the cells. There were too many, endless, and they lined both sides. They were protected by thick iron bars. Some were already slightly bent, others scratched like people had tried to claw their way out, and the smell of urine and dirt was unbearable. Some prisoners pressed themselves against the bars as we passed. Too many eyes followed us with something between anger and desperation, while others paced back and forth like caged animals, either muttering to themselves or slamming their fists against the walls.

The table was filled with crawling ants and evidence of a possible termite infection. The paint on the walls, which she thought was once white –or blue-or gray. At that point, no one could tell. The open area was surrounded by prisoners in orange. Their gloomy expressions a far cry from the vibrant orange hue: Most were in tears and others were overtaken with the feeling of loss and yearning caused by months apart from their loved ones _who they only got to see for 30 minutes. Others were held in high concentration, carving the faces of their lovers in their memory probably to keep them company till the next time they got a chance to meet again. Unlike the other prisons, that would only be f

Because if I fell, I wouldn’t get back up again. The stone staircase leading down into the Pit was narrow and steep, the kind of descent meant to humiliate. My boots slipped more than once. The guards didn’t care. They laughed every time I hit the wall, every time my knees buckled. The prisoners were already awake. Or maybe they never slept. They clung to the bars of their cells, eyes wild, fingers gnarled, skin stretched too tight. Some growled. Others whispered things I didn’t understand. One of them reached through the bars as I passed and touched my shoulder—his fingers cold, bone-thin.

A wolf ready to tear apart anyone who dared lay a hand on her. And still, the whispers fell on Michelle. Murmurs. Judgments. The renegade. The traitor’s daughter. Many still saw her as an intruder here. But I would show them the truth. The prisoners were dragged out, one by one, chained, their feet scraping against the wood. None dared raise their heads. Some trembled. Others had already surrendered to despair. A line of doomed bodies. I could smell the fear pouring off them. I stepped forward, and silence crashed down like a storm.

Ruby Maverick POV Barbaric! They have no conscience whatsoever. How can they treat a living being like a puppet? They had to be exterminated before any more victims fell. "Call more warriors to come in." One of the five warriors, who was busy unlocking the iron bars, faced me. "Yes, Luna!" This long hallway consisted of approximately twenty prisons. Inside the prison were four living people, not counting the carcasses of the dead slaves. It was heartbreaking to think that they had to live in a place like this.