Prison

Frank dreamed he was sent to a prison because of a crime he didn’t commit. And Frank would have been upset about it if he hadn’t plead guilty. He woke every morning to a tray slid in through a small flap in an armored gray door with some sort of slop that he could barely identify as his daily meal. One one morning, in his dream, an unwelcomed thought popped in his head that maybe this isn’t what he deserved. He quickly dismissed this thought as the vein entitlement of his subconscious mind, and went on eating his slop. He went through his daily routine of making sure everything was as he left it in his little cell the night before. The toilet seat on the old stainless steel  toilet was left up, the sheet on his bed was still a faded shade of nearly-grey-blue, and the square that he had scratched into the old paint of the wall just a few inches above his bed was still there. Yes, today was a beautifully normal day.

He went about his day doing little tasks that he appointed to himself and not accomplishing much. He always finished every bit of his slop in hopes that one day he would be let out early for good behavior. After all, mother always told him to ‘be a good boy and finnish all your food!’ and then he thought about mother’s food and how he hated it. the spaghetti made from angel hair noodles and a can of store brand tomato sauce, the sandwiches with one piece of pastrami and a slice of Kraft cheese in between two slices of white bread that were always drenched in ranch dressing. Oh, what he would give to have his mother cook for him again!

Next, he took two squares of the one-ply toilet paper that he had, folded it, wiped the top of his toilet with it, and dropped the newly yellowed toilet paper in and flushed it. He had always been a sloppy pisser. ‘Must’ve given the custodians at school a lot of hell’ he thought. He chuckled and set the sheet on his bed nice and straight, and then he made a little fold it the corner on the left side of the pillow for no reason. But he did it every day because he liked it that way.

After he accomplished all of his tasks for the day, it was time to sleep. He thought his days must be much shorter than actual days because they never seemed very long. But since he hadn’t seen the sun in so long, there was no way to tell. So, he slept, woke up, ate his slop, and did his tasks, and that’s what his day was.

But when he went back to bed, that vain little thought always snuck up on him. He never liked this part of the day. It was uncomfortable! Of course this is where he belonged! He deserved no less, and certainly no more! He was angry, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of who he was mad at. So, confused and defeated, he fell asleep.

After a few of his weeks of doing this same routine over and over again, he awoke with anticipation for another beautifully normal day, and he began to go through his checklist. Toilet lid up? Check! Color of bed sheet? Check! He got up, stretched, and took a nice deep yawn. Square above his bed? Che…. huh? He jumped on his bed to take a closer look. The square above his bed had been completely scratched off and next to it a circle was scratched into the wall. That’s when he noticed that the tips of his fingers were in pain! He looked at his hands to see his own fingernails ground down to his now bloody, scraped fingertips. ‘What the f**k happened last night?’

He went to get some toilet paper to wrap his hands in so he could start his tasks. and while he started to wrap his hands in toilet paper, he looked at the toilet, and the damned seat was down! just then he heard the sound of a tray being slid through the flap in the door. He went to look at the slop, extremely mortified at this point. But when he looked at what was on his tray, instead of slop, he saw a white bread sandwich. Inside it was one slice of pastrami, one slice of yellow Kraft cheese and the bread drenched in ranch dressing.

Frank went into hysterics. He threw the sandwich against the wall, and proceeded to kick and punch his bed all the while crying, and screaming the only words that could make it passed his lips “why mommy why!” until he exhausted himself and was reduced to a whimpering mess in his bed. and when he finally became silent, he heard the muffled sound of the prison alarm going off and a voice over the intercom saying “The prisoner has escaped. The prisoner has escaped.” and his door opened and he saw his mother who he remembered so well and missed so much saying; “Frank, honey, it’s time to wake up!”

Frank opened his eyes to see his room just as he had it the night before. His light blue quilt, his plain white wall, and his backpack sitting at the foot of his bed. He looked at his hands, and aside from the fact that his nails needed a trim, they looked completely normal.

“Frank honey, your breakfast isn’t going to eat itself. Do you want to be late for school again?” He got up and made his way to the kitchen where he saw a plate with a nice little sandwich. White bread drenched in ranch dressing, A single slice of pastrami, and a piece of Kraft cheese. “Be a good boy and finnish all your food, Frank.” His mother said. To which Frank replied “Don’t I always?”

Frank got on the bus for school, sat in the back of the bus where he always sat and thought to himself ‘I’m gonna give the custodian hell today’ and chuckled.

Author's Note

This is just a rough draft. Just looking for input.

Reviews

[Cyndy Robinson]

Neat twist to the story I like it. I am just not sure I would announce Frank was dreaming in the beginning of the story. I think the end shows that and by not saying it in the beginning you make the ending stronger.

[Martin]

I was thinking the same thing. Thanks for the input! I appreciate it! :)