I can see nearly everything, up here in the high-chair. A wooden throne with peasants and functionaries massed before me. The palace-guards are dressed in black and white, with their chains-of-office and batons of authority evident, but not overt.1
It’s two-fifteen and visitors are drifting-in through the detector-portal and rub-down searchers. A creeping tide of shamed and depressed people, putting a brave and jaunty face on for their imprisoned loved-ones. The problem is I, the most obvious representative of prison-staff in the room, feel as shamed and depressed as they do.2
It started with an incident in the central corridor. I had to move Boothe along, because he was loitering outside the classrooms. He got mouthy. Neither of us could back down. I nicked him. I like to have a choice of putting a bloke on a charge, but Boothe is still full of youthful hatred for the order I represent and hasn’t learned to play the game. He doesn’t care who I am. I’m a just a screw. Now, because we had no way out, he is going to spend two days longer in the system than before. Those two days will feel like a slow haemorrhage when he gets to the end of his bird and he will remember me, the guy who made his soul bleed.3
Whilst gathering the info for Boothe’s nicking, I discovered material showing he has been in institutions since he was eight years old. Not an orphan, but a ‘troubled’ child who was taken under the wing of the Social Services. He was raped for years. Then the system regurgitated him and he was able to lead his own life. Spookily, after such an apprenticeship ‘in care’, his calling became drugs and burglary. A classic case and his sojourn in my establishment was just another period of resting between jobs, as actors euphemistically call their down-time. The problem is, Boothe has been maturing and done what many adults do, namely fall in love and become a father. 4
I see him sat directly in front of me, full of tension at a low coffee-table, waiting for the embodiments of his hope to come and embrace him. A wan-looking, cheaply-dressed woman shuffles in with an infant in her arms, looking around at the uniformly drab inmates, trying to find the embodiment of her hope. As their eyes meet, there faces, their posture, even the colours of their clothing seem to transform into Technicolor splendour. In that split-second they are not in the visiting-hall of HMP Fellwich, but somewhere elevated and free of misery. 5
The embrace is nervous, fleeting, for fear of the baby being crushed. Boothe, the young, nervous father is out of his depth and it warms yet saddens my heart to see it. Where was this man yesterday, when I asked him to move along?6
Ninety minutes later, humanity evaporates from the room as the visitors leave. The next morning, Boothe has two days of freedom with his baby taken from him.7
.8
Author notes
I would like to know what you feel about the style and constancy of the narrators 'voice'. What do you learn about him or his relationship with the environment he is in?
BTW - The painting is 'Empathy' by Vladan Ignatovic
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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Dearest 'Critiquers', this is exactly the feedback I'm after! The pre-conditions for this exercise were that it must be complete in less than 500 words. I can say that I wrote it in a single 20 minute sitting, with a simple spell-check as the only 'polish'. It's my first to-order piece and I wanted it completely raw. If you can add more comment on aspects that worked and didn't I would be very interested in further comment. Thank you very much for the input
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This did convey the message that your narrator, the Warden" was an empathetic individual who wanted better for his inmates and was perhaps disillusioned with the system himself!
As to the flow, I followed the first couple of verses as if the narrator was relaying a story to perhaps a third party - not necessarily the reader, but at paragraph 5 the commentary took a little turn that confused me slightly. It seemed to shift from a retrospective feel to a present time third party write. Just a touch off rythm with the first half of your story.
The general content matter was clear but I thought that the end was slightly weak and a little clumsy: "The next morning, Boothe has two days of being with his baby taken from him." How can he have two days of being with his baby if the baby was taken from him? I know this is not what you mean, but it's how it reads... Does this mean that this is another 2 days taken away from his life with his child as well as all the other days since he has been inside"...? Perhaps a little more clarity.
Overall I enjoyed this write but I would like to see a little more work on the closing paragraph, something that may grab your heartstrings a little more. I'm sorry I can't come up with a suggestion at the moment and I wouldn't wish to intrude on your good work, but should you need any input, please let me know and I'll see what I can offer as a little framework for you.
Thanks for sharing and I apologize for the looooong critique - you have so much potential and with a couple of minor tune ups this will be a very powerful piece.
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The narrator seems to be saying this in a very monotone voice - no peaks or valleys, just telling it like it is. Then as he reads the profile he seems to feel some kind of emotional connection with Boothe, as well as during the visit. All that goes for naught in the last line. - does he feel sorry for him? Think in a way he does.
I think the narrator could be a regular good guy outside the prison environment, but has been climatized to his role in this situation. Enjoyed the read , could read more. -
WOW! This was really inspirational to read. I enjoyed reading this and how....emotional your words spoke out to me. When I have the chance, I'll be sure to check out more of your work!
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