Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Write CONTEMPORARY FICTION (10/30/14)
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TITLE: Thundering Hooves Pass By | Previous Challenge Entry
By Andrea Willard
11/02/14 -
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I was the hunted. In my mind I played the judge’s decree again and again.
Manslaughter 1.
The accusation was that I was a murderer.
I didn’t know of any evidence.
My daughter Lily when recounting that day. Said over and over.
“Who did this? Who was it Daddy?”
One last breath then he stepped into eternity.
I found Lily screaming for me. She was holding her father’s lifeless head
When I saw my husband’s body I didn’t cry or scream. I just stood there shaking and mute. My 14 year old daughter keened her agony.
Investigators from the Mountain County Sheriff’s Office interrogated me for six hours. They kept saying “You did it, you did it come on admit it so we can go home.”
I must have passed out. I woke up in a jail cell. What did I say to deserve this?
Where were my children? Am I guilty and not know it? My thinking felt skewed and in disarray. I sat up on bunk 1 cell block C 1 in the county jail. I was on felony row. I couldn’t afford an attorney.
It must have been the second day when I was brought shackled in heavy chains to a room with televised judges. My judge said to a screen before him Mrs. Frost you are charged with manslaughter in the first degree. Bond is set at $1,000,000.00.
I wanted to scream. A deputy jerked me away from the screen.
“OUCH!
His grip drew blood. I needed medical attention but was too sick to ask.
Please Sir? Why am I in a felon’s cell?
“Shut up lady.”
“No”
I’m going to call a BOLO (battery on a law officer) if you don’t shut up.
That continued for about two seconds. What came next was a punch in my face. It propelled me into the concrete wall. I heard a crack. Then darkness.
When I woke up I was in a fetal position on my bunk. I must have thrown up because my tan scrubs reeked of vomit.
I went to the solid steel door which had an opening to slide food in to me. I called and called for someone to help me. No one came.
Time began to stand in the way of my sanity.
The next meal was breakfast. As I accepted it I thanked the officer and called him sir. I kept thinking the most viable solution to repeal the state I had found myself in on this last day of October 2014 was to scream for my Savior Jesus to save me from the torture and brainwashing.
My heart’s cry was for my beloved husband. When I thought of him I was immediately jerked into the present moment.
“AHHHHH!!!!!”
It was too horrendous to bare.
“My love dead?”
Time stood still.
Without warning the rain began. A cold front was passing through Colorado.
My cold cell was in the corner. Cell 10 at my right had a skeleton look alike of
Charlie Manson. He kept coming to the shatterproof window and beating his head.
I could not see the cell to my left but I heard her screams that she was innocent.
Who, what when where? Why? My journalist training didn’t help. Against my will my thinking went askew.
“Blah’ blah, blah blah.”
Mush came out of my mouth with incoherent consonants and vowels.
Yi Yi Yi Yi!!!!! WHOOP!!
Sounds of all kinds came forth from the dayroom. I could see past steel bars that enclosed the walkway in front of my secured cell. Prisoners in shreaded tan scrubs and navy blue keds had been released into that very large space I called the dayroom.
I was the craziest of the prisoners. I tapped a secret code on the safety glass partition. 123,123, 333 222 111 slower. Again 1 2 3, 1 2 3, 2 2 2, 1 1 23.Stop
Nothing made sense. One minute I was crazy as a loon and the next moment I was tapping coded messages to the guard at the front desk.
“Oh God am I one of them?”
“Jesus I am your servant! Why? Why?”
For just a second I thought maybe I would be released into that cavern of circling men. It was then I realized that that no women had been included.
My head jerked backwards. My arms and legs felt like gelatin.
I heard heavy keys in the lock on my cell door.
“You’re out of here! Narc cop!”
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The sentences seemed choppy at time. Thinking now maybe it was the punctuation.
Interesting writing.
The ending, to me seemed that the "prisoner" was a "narc cop?" And, perhaps undercover?
Good work.
God bless~
Some para breaks would signpost this story better, for your work shows great insights.