A Day in the Life of a Prisoner
I was shivering in this disease ridden jail cell. It is too cold to think. I am on the floor with nothing but a rag on my back; others lay shivering around me moaning from their empty stomachs and the bitter cold. I have been in this treacherous place for nearly a month now awaiting my trial. Damn those lazy statesmen, making it easier for you to die inside the jail so they wont have to try your case. I am smothered with filth just the same as everyone else and the cold wind comes blowing in from outside. How I yearn for a warm fire and a bed to rest my tired back. How could I be put in this type of treachery for simply stealing a loaf of bread?
My family was starving and if I didn’t do what I did they would all be dead. I feel anger pulse through my veins. I wonder why life is so unfair. As the days slowly seep by my body only becomes more and more frail, my skin seems translucent, my breath croaking in my chest. I am at the door step of death and the thought of running away suddenly becomes apparent to me. I know the consequences, and I know that if I did the unthinkable, I would never be able to return to my town again. My family depends on me to bring them food. I sleep on the thought, it tormenting me, and I slowly drift into an unbearable sleep.
The next day I am woken by a gruff arm grabbing my tattered sleeve I hear a deep voice and see the jailer as my eyes quickly adjust to the harsh light. The first thought that runs through my head is, “Oh no, what have I done?!” He tells me to wash up and hands me a bucket a murky looking water. I know that there is only one reason the jailer could tell me to look presentable. Today is the day. The day when I will finally be seen by the court and my case will be tried.
A warn feeling rushes though my spine. I imagine my family lovingly embrace me, I imagine warm plush bed. A wide smile creeps across my face, a smile I have not painted on in what feels like a lifetime. When I make myself look somewhat presentable the jailer puts me in a pair of iron shackles. I fidget with my hands adjusting to the unfamiliar weight. I walk out into the light breeze and think, today is going to be a very good day.
As I approach the House of Burgesses the smell of freedom wafts towards me. My eyes light up with joy and I can’t help but put a little skip in my walk. We reach the courthouse and I am brought back to reality as I see a woman being dragged out screeching and kicking. I can see the fear in her eyes; she has been violently crying. She’s pleading for her innocence, but no one seems to hear her cries for help. Maybe no one cared… A crowd of eager bystanders swarm behind her and try to get a glimpse of the culprit as she is dragged towards the town’s hanging post. “Hang the Witch!” , “Better yet, BURN HER!” An evil laughter erupts among the crowd. There aren’t many hangings but whenever there were is, it’s an event. The part that makes me sick is that others truly enjoy watching people die even if they have been wrongly accused.
Suddenly I fear for my life. Panic. My heart feels like it will fall out of my chest and on to the dusty road. What if the court decides to hang me as well. You never know, they are so unpredictable and the severity of punishments seem to vary on wether the jurors have had a good day. I twist my neck as the jailer pulls me away from the scene, but I can see his disappointment for he doesn’t want to miss the show either. I am pulled in to the large room and the ceilings feel infinite. Now all eyes are on me. I am brought to the edge of the barrier that divided the audience and the jurors and judge. I was surprised to see some of my colleagues in the jurors seats. “What is your name?” The judges booming voice puts me in a temporary coma. As my mind processes the simple question in a feeble voice, “Alexander Doubt.” He gives me a short grunt. I don’t feel good about this.