Prisoners Poems Novels & Stories

We were warriors, fighting against the chains that held us captive, fuelled by the unwavering belief that escape was within our reach. In the depths of the military bunker, we became more than mere prisoners. We became survivors, defying the odds and embracing the unknown. And as the echoes of our footsteps resonated through the cold corridors, a symphony of resilience played in perfect harmony—a testament to our unyielding spirit and unwavering pursuit of freedom.

Only pride kept me upright, one foot in front of the other as we were herded into the corridor. Outside our cell, more prisoners waited—fifteen others in various states of dishevelment, all bound with silver, all wearing the same expression of dull resignation tinged with animal fear. Men and women of different ages, united by the desperation that had driven them to rogue status and the misfortune of being caught. "Line up, single file," ordered a guard I hadn't seen before, his voice carrying the bored efficiency of routine. "Any disruption will be met with immediate correction."

As one of the five pillars, or duties. As soon as the truck stopped, the prisoners were immediately asked to get down. Men were separated from women, anything of value was robbed from them. Women were violated and were stripped of their hijabs while searching their bodies for anything of value that they can sell and make money of. The soldiers acted as if the prisoners were mute, ignoring their every cry for mercy and help, begging to be released.

Some were mourning about their crops' curling leaves as their usual green color slowly turned into hopeless brown. But no matter how strikingly bright and hellishly burning outside, the jail remained eternally dark and incomparably freezing. It was like the jail was made of snow. Mon couldn't take his eyes off the gloomy face of the other prisoners behind him, clinging their pitiful hands unto the cold iron bars of the jail. Their faces were painted with hopelessness and sorrow as the cave's only light from the torches wiggled wildly, riding the motion of quick footsteps towards the jail's door.

“We’ll call a doctor. We’ll figure this out. We’re gonna fight this.” But Brielle didn’t move. She just stood there—hand on her stomach, her name finally her own again—realizing that some prisons weren’t made of walls or rings or contracts. Some were made of biology. Some were growing inside her. To be continued...

If the available slot here is limited, then the selection is highly competitive and for world worst criminals. These are people who create havoc that affects the whole world or did something really bad that history would never forget. Those in this prison are terrorists, rebel leaders, worst cannibals, among others. A lot do die in this prison, the conditions for survival are extremely hard to meet. I don't pity them, they deserve it either.

the guard smacked his lips as he slammed the gate shut and when I followed his gaze it landed on two prisoners inside the cell beside mine. “Let me go! You can't do this to me!” I gripped the rods, pushing and yelling. “It will do you more good to stay calm,” one of the prisoners said. I was tired and felt like breaking down into tears. I looked at the prisoners. They seemed comfortable and I almost asked them what their crimes were but swallowed my words. They said the pack was at peace but we still had prisoners. “I stole from my neighbour, that's why I'm here,” one of the prisoners said as if he heard my thoughts.

said Old Joe, standing up. My two inmates lined up before the metal rails and I followed their suit reluctantly. One by one officer came into view as the barrier opened up. We walked in silence, in groups of threes with officers in tow, a baton in their hands. We were led in a canter after some time. Inside were prisoners alike me, lined up for food.

Hungry prisoners were not happy prisoners and it was very obvious in the growing tense atmosphere. She tugged on Seth's shirt and practically dragged him forward. "You ok to hold your tray to the table, angel?" he asked, since the large bowls made it difficult to balance both in his hands. She, of course, nodded obediently. "Stay close to me ok? It's very rowdy today," he warned. His eyes squinted at the people around him, analysing their actions closely. "Are there new people coming again?" Usually there would be a little more energy in people when there were newcomers. The people previously at the bottom of the pecking order now excited they could be the ones to pick on terrified kids, new

Yet, they were all helpless to do anything. "You're here, sir." Cian walked over to Adrian. "How are they?" Adrian asked. Cian took a look at the prisoners and replied, "The young ones are doing all right. They're thankful that we’re here to save them. But there are many elderly who are badly traumatized. Some of them saw their loved ones being beaten to death and are trapped in that nightmare." Adrian could not do anything to change what had happened to these people.