Prisoners Poems Novels & Stories

Earlier in the pond is evidence of that. There are no windows, so I can't tell if it's morning or night. I don't know how long we’ve been here, but we’ve been given food twice, so I’ll guess two days. I’ve been waiting for what Walden threatened to come. I’m hoping whatever it is, Theo and I can overcome it together. I hear the cell doors opening. The cell is made of silver, preventing us from breaking it down. “It's time,” the man who brings our food says, walking toward me.

Each cell boasted modern furnishings, clean linens, and personal bathrooms, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy within the confines of incarceration. The prisoners, although confined, were not treated as slaves. The prison management recognized the importance of upholding human rights, even for those who had committed serious crimes. The prisoners were granted access to recreational areas, communal spaces, and facilities such as libraries and gyms. While they may have been confined, their basic needs were met.

It seemed my plan had failed; he must have suspected I had something up my sleeve, which was why he refused to allow me out of the prison. When I realized that I couldn't just sit there doing nothing, I began to sing a song to myself. After a while, I drifted off to sleep. I could tell that the werewolf guard enjoyed the way I hummed the song, as I heard him softly joining in. The sound of the prison doors slamming woke me up. I observed the remaining prisoners being ushered into their cells; they all appeared tired and hungry. Some immediately collapsed and fell asleep, while others lay on the floor with open eyes, unable to sleep due to hunger. It was really terrible, the kind of unfair tr

I had to remind myself that these men were rapists, murderers and thieves even if it didn't sit right with me that they should be killed but I had no say In that the decision had already been taken. As the prisoners were led to the stage the executioner stepped forward with his ghastly tools, his eyes cold and unfeeling. Time seemed to stretch, elongating each passing second into an unbearable eternity. The thought of what will become of these wolves in the underworld seems to have me thinking will they be taken in by the moon goddess or will she turn them away just like their own kind did.

"Okay, Stephen. I think you have an explanation for this? " Gavin crossed his arms, stood facing him while waiting for an answer from him. Half-disbelieving to see what was in front of his eyes at this time, Stephen looked at the Pedrosa clan prison building which was in chaos due to the prisoners who managed to get out of their cells, beating the prison guards and security guards who were helpless facing angry prisoners who went on a rampage taking out their frustration at being treated like societal trash.

As that past and exchange heart, he gambles upon knocks in his mind right now, and with his words. “‘SNOW Cloud’, the poem behind this painting I made just for you, which means a sad goodbye of never.” The words and promise he gave them time and the life he shares now with the person he unexpectedly met and now is holding near in his life and heart. With the life was never his since he was sentenced to death and committed the taboo that defies what God is set and given a rule of. He is in prison in the darkness he chooses, gave up the hope in living, and became the person whom he is not as he drowns into the darkness and throws all of what he knew to be reality into waste and everything in i

“You all did well tonight. Take a break. Go drink in honor of my marriage. Celebrate. You have earned it.” They bowed. “Thank you, my lord.” They left quickly. I walked alone toward the dungeon. The stairs leading down were narrow and dark. The air grew colder and damper with every step. The dungeon was a long underground hall lined with iron cells. Most of the prisoners were here for petty crimes—stealing bread, fighting in the square, and speaking against the pack. Crimes that could be forgiven at any time. But I refused to forgive them. I liked keeping them here. I liked knowing they suffered while I ruled.

And I start getting ready. Because that's what prisoners do. They obey. Even when every instinct screams to fight. Even when surrender tastes like ashes in their mouth. Even when they hate themselves for giving in. I have five minutes. And a dinner to survive. And whatever comes after that. God help me.

“Probably.” I continue to scan. The eastern edge of the camp appears less crowded, with wagons and horses, along with a makeshift pen filled with prisoners. “Look over there.” Caden takes the binoculars again, staying quiet for a moment. “They’re holding wolves. Prisoners.” “From where?” “Does it matter?” I take the binoculars back, focusing on the prisoners huddled in a muddy enclosure—maybe two dozen of them. Guards are patrolling the area, looking bored and indifferent.

I informed him, folding my arms across my chest. “Why the hell not?” I rolled my eyes at him. “Because that wall is like five feet of solid concrete. This jail is reserved for the worst criminals—the ones who have royally pissed off the shifters. The very bad—” My words hung in the air for a moment before the realisation hit me. I was the only prisoner here. I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. Oh my gods, I’m the worst criminal here. The thought settled over me like a thick, suffocating fog. And what had I done to earn that title?