Forks In The Road

Darcy and I stare at Walter through shatterproof glass at the prison during visiting hours.

Walter’s handcuffed knuckles, pressing against his temples, are white. “Toasting forks?! Those thirty-inch-long skewers you use for toasting marshmallows?”

I nod. “I put them out with the salad at dinner.”

“How could you?” he sputters.

Darcy grimaces. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to get expelled for jabbing people.”

“It’s not your fault, Darce,” Walter says. “Mom should’ve known better than to give you the exact weapons I used for the trail of destruction that landed me here.”

I sigh. “I was trying to normalize them.”

From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

Good News, Bad News

If it was up to me, I would be anywhere else but this waiting room.

I visit my Doctor as little as humanly possible. In fact, last Monday was the first time I’ve been here in ages. He told me to go to the hospital and take the tests. He said he’d call me back when the results were in.

I got the call an hour ago from the practice nurse. She said the Doctor could see me as soon as I arrived.

The news is not good. It’s twins and my husband has been in prison for two years.

From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey

The Sound Of What’s Coming

There was a guillotine in the basement. People in the surrounding buildings reacted by hurling rocks and bottles. The whole thing felt suspicious, like someone was trying to send me a message. So I started cutting out images of crashes and mass shootings from the newspaper and transferring them onto the surface of prison-issued soaps. Then I figured out a way to do that onto the prison sheets. The residue that accumulated on the floor and walls took on a life of its own. Now what do we do? The window provides enough natural light to keep the snake alive.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Just A Dream

It was just a dream.

One night, years ago, I killed a man in a fit of rage. I immediately felt regret. What if I were caught?

Waking up was a relief.

The next night, I returned to face the aftermath of my nocturnal crime. I was arrested. I stood trial. I was sentenced to life in prison.

This was not over a single evening. It was an episodic nightmare that I returned to repeatedly. I forced myself to stay awake in order to avoid the inevitable but eventually the inevitable won out.

Was it real? It really didn't matter.

The Rant In The Lamp

In my perfect prison of smooth, curving walls, I dread the serpentine rope, curling on the bottom of the well.

No escape by that plaited ladder. It is a sucking wick, a path to punishment above in the glass panopticon, where they burn me alive.

With my light, without their night, those heedless animals cook and sing and flirt, while I, burning, dwindle and darken the glass.

I have suffered long in this prison well, and I have chosen my end. Once I am no more than soot and foul air, with my last, dry gasps, I will poison them.

From Guest Contributor Virginia Marybury

Delhi Rape Case

Cell 1: Driver. Charged with rape and murder. Known as "mental/alcoholic."Escaped punishment by suicide.Cell 2: Brother of driver. Charged with same. Kept in solitary confinement after assault from inmates.Hung to death.Cell 3: Gym instructor. Guilty of kidnapping, robbery, rape, murder.Death sentence.Cell 4: Fruit Seller. Guilty of "rarest of rare." Raped so hard; intestines bled.Death penalty; followed by cheering by crowd.Cell 5: Unemployed man; commits atrocities to pass time and have a laugh.Death penalty.Cell 6: Minor. Charged with rape and immense body mutilation.Tried as juvenile. 3-year sentence.

Fuck Justice.

From Guest Contributor Suhasini Patni

Suhasini is a second year undergraduate at Ashoka University, in India, studying English literature. She has previously published a book review in The Tishman Review and a micro-fiction piece with A Quiet Courage, and hopes to publish many more. She is new to the publishing world but loves to write.

Factory

The second time that John came out of prison, he decided that enough was enough. It took a while but John's parole officer found him a factory job at the docks hauling animal carcasses from trucks to meat lockers.

John worked fifty-hour weeks at the factory for twenty years before he died of the lung cancer that had gradually crept into his body. John's obese daughter was his lone blood relative at what could only be described as a modest funeral. She left tired yellow flowers on John's grave before going back to a factory job of her own.

From Guest Contributor, Horrorshow

Everything Has Its Cost

Lester frowned. The map told exactly where to find the hidden fortune of Reginald Day, the object of treasure hunters everywhere. Unfortunately, the map was now in the possession of his chief rival.

Lester plotted many possible methods for securing the map, but all of them ended either with him in jail, or in violence. Though it was at times necessary, Lester didn't particularly care for violence. But the thought of prison was even less appealing.

So it was that Lester absconded with the entire Day fortune, at the cost of dropping Reginald's 11-year-old granddaughter off the village clock tower.

Orts And Ends

The Orts law went into affect after the famine of '26, criminalizing the failure to consume even the tiniest morsel of leftover food after a meal. The first offense was punishable by up to ten years in prison.

Lawmakers had failed to anticipate certain side affects of the statute. Pet owners were forced to finish their pets' meals. No one enjoyed having to eat orange rinds or rice paper wrappers, but they were considered edible and therefore included in the ordinance.

Yes, these first world problems still existed despite the 70% reduction in the world's population during the decades-long food crisis.

The Balloon Vendors

The people had long dreamed of revolution, but it was the balloon vendors who finally convinced them it was possible. They possessed more than empty talk. They had a plan of action.

They would topple the regime with helium.

It wasn't until much later that they realized their mistake. Helium isn't the explosive element. What you need is hydrogen.

They long harbored a measure of bitterness at their failure, but their prison sentences were ameliorated at least somewhat by the fact they had tried to do something. No one could say the same of the knife sharpeners or pitchfork salespeople.