Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: SOCIAL (04/07/16)
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TITLE: A Wick Ready To Be Lit | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dot Hannah
04/12/16 -
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April 12, 2016
It was a field trip like no other. I entered the grounds, surrounded by a nine foot high chain link fence topped by jagged strands of barbed wire, on an October day, an early fall chill in the air. This medium security prison for men was the drabbest, ugliest place I had ever seen. I was a female high school student there to gain first-hand knowledge for a paper I was writing for English class. The title was, “Avoid Bad Choices That Can Put You Behind Bars.”
The inside was as depressing as the outside, paint peeling from the walls with a stale, musty odor. I found it very unnerving as two heavyset men with 38’s on their hips escorted me to a prison auditorium where I was going to interview one of the inmates. I was introduced to Tom, colorfully tattooed from top to bottom, ever probing eyes constantly on me. He did not acknowledge my smile. My heart was pounding and the adrenaline was shooting through my body.
Tom said, “I need to talk to you for your own good.” My heart was racing, but I managed to calmly say, “Yes. I have come to learn about your prison experience.” I wished that I felt as confident as I had tried to sound. He said, “I’m a snitch to stick my nose into something like this, but anyway, I overheard this dude say to his friend that he wants to kill you.” He seemed dead serious. I said, “What are you talking about? I don’t know anyone here.” He leaned back and roared with laughter. Needless to say, I thought he was crazy, and I asked myself, “Is this a bad dream?” I finally came to my senses and realized he was just messing with me, attempting to scare me.
After having a whale of a time at my expense, I asked, “Why are you here? What was your crime?” His voice softened but his eyes still bored into mine. I learned he had joined a gang when he was fourteen, a community closer than his family, because of his need to belong. Shortly afterwards, he was introduced to drugs and became addicted. A life of petty crimes followed until one day, a worse crime. He robbed someone with a knife.
I might have forgotten where we were except for the guards pacing back and forth. His life story captivated me, and my attention hung on his every word. He lowered his eyes and said with passion, “I wanted to find worth in this life, attempt to sooth my pain of rejection. My father lived just across town, remarried, and devoting his time and energy to another family. I was furiously angry, senseless, and ignorant. My choking anger made me easy prey and clouded my mind so much that I could not distinguish right from wrong. Anger is a self built fire starter, and I became a wick waiting to be lit and ultimately burned. Tom continued talking for another two hours. Finally, like a man coming out of a trance, he said, “Forgive me for talking too much and thank you for listening to my silly story.” I said, “Pain is never silly.”
As he went on about his life, I shuddered and stared speechlessly, realizing how dismal and oppressive his life had been. His mother worked from sun up to sun down, and he felt lonely and deserted. He said, “I regret the pain and shame I put her through. She already had more than she could bear, but I embraced the indifference I felt at the time, assuming life would always be the way it was.”
His words were still ringing in my ears as I stepped outside the compound into the brisk, cool air. Later, I opened my dark bound notebook which had all my notes from the day, and began writing my paper. My goal was no longer just to get a good grade but to inspire others to rally support for this segment of society by becoming mentors. I realized that Tom’s story was no different from a multitude of others. There is an epidemic of kids who the odds are stacked against because of broken homes and the absence of fathers. Lives can be changed if we are willing to connect to them as friends and advisers.
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2) KJV
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Well done.
Blessings~
Red Ink:
A teenage girl wouldn't be let in the men's prison. Even if she was allowed to visit, it would be on video or behind glass.
One of your sentences changed tenses, so I rewrote it like this: My married father lived across town and devoted most of his time to his other family.
Each dialogue by a different character needs to be its own paragraph.
The narrative by the main characters is more telling then showing.
Keep writing!
My main red ink is you have quite a few passive lines. I think you'd be surprised if you counted them. One way (although not always true) to spot passive lines is to count how many times you use a form of the verb to be (was, were, is). Your opening line is passive. (If I wanted to change my prior line from passive to active, I could've done this:You wrote your opening line as a passive one.) Try to start with something that will pull the reader in immediately. For example: Licking my dry lips, my heartbeat echoed in my ears. What on earth am I doing going into a prison? I thought field trips were supposed to be fun. I suppressed a nervous giggle when I heard the clanging of the steel doors locking me inside. Crossing my legs, I glanced around for the nearest bathroom.
I added some body language and internal dialog to create both conflict and a picture for the reader.
I liked your dialog. (Remember to start a new paragraph each time someone different speaks.) It really helped to develop your characters. I think the social ladder in prison is quite intriguing. I liked the way you approached it. You held my attention right to the end. Nicely done.
I enjoy reading your pieces. You continue to grow as a writer.
Blessings~