Creative Writing: Jail Time

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Jail Time

Those blocks (block, block, block) in just plain gray (gray, gray, gray): the perfect surroundings to leave one's mind blank... or insane.

Ow. My head hurts. It has been lying against this wall for at least an hour now. I scratched the back of my head to move around my dark, curly hair. It was beginning to feel plastered against my scalp. It was a bit tangled from not brushing it for a day and my fingers did not run through it with ease; nevertheless, it felt good to keep the blood flowing. I was lying on a thin, light blue mat on the floor. My head was propped up against the cold wall as if it were a concrete pillow. My chin dug into my chest and I could feel the soft, warm material from my sleeveless sweater …show more content…

The one who lost her feet. "These aren't my feet. I have pretty feet!" she declared. Her wild, dark, shoulder length hair swayed with every movement of her head. "Do these look pretty to you?" she said shoving her bare feet in the closest victim. "Someone stole my feet!" She was put in isolation. I found her to be my only amusement.

"Psss. We got a pair of feet in here," I said. "You looking for pretty feet, right? Cause these feet are mighty pretty. Got some hands in here too. You missing hands?" I asked.

"Hey, stop acting up," warned one of the informative booking officers in green. My fun ended there.

After booking is when Christy and I along with everyone else, was escorted to the holding cell where I slept for about a hour. I awoke abruptly to familiar sounds. "Christy Moraguez! Marimer Matos!" I hoped to my feet. Maybe I'll be out of here soon? Maybe the judge will declare time served and release? Christy and I, along with the other prisoners who were scheduled to see the magistrate that morning, lined up in the hall and walked to the court room only a few short steps away. Prostitutes screamed from opposite side of the room. "Donna! Donna! You in here

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