The Penetentiary A Life Story - 995 Words

Where am I now? The slammer. As shrivelled and blackened as my heart is, I don’t deserve this. Every morning, the fresh air of freedom rushes through the cold steel bars of no return. The stench is appalling. The bed is no treat; it is rife with cold sweat. I’ve done things. Things no man ever should. There’s no going back now. I’m in this godforsaken hell hole for the long haul. I retreat into myself in an attempt to block out the cruel sounds of the prison morning. The faint barking of rabid guard dogs seem to echo through the complex, ricocheting off of any surface like the lost souls of convicts. And here I lie amongst them. The dogs aren’t the only things that bark around here: the vicious snaps of the heartless wardens strike fear through the best of us. Occasional gang taunts reverberate down the vast lonely halls. But these ones that are all talk, they’re easy. Not a problem. When blood is spilled, it happens from out of nowhere. Always for a reason. I awaken. â€Å"Frank.† I turn round, snapping out of my thoughts, to see the dark haired man whom I trust with my life, Joe. â€Å"What is it, buddy?† I replied with interest. â€Å"Watch yourself today. I hear that Jon Lee stole Bobo’s contraband. Bobo and his boys gonna’ whoop his ass real good. Don’t get involved. Keep your head down. Stay safe.† He looked at me with eyes that said â€Å"I mean it this time†. At exactly 8 am, the warden came marching down the hall, violently bashing his baton off every surface he could with maliciousShow MoreRelatedO Henry3034 Words   |  13 Pagesthe short story  ». He has been called many things. Some people have called him the twentieth-century Balzak. Some have called him the American Maupassant because of his so well made surprising endings. The short story is the one fundamental and self-contained genre in American prose fiction, and the stories of O. Henry certainly made their appearance in consequence of the prolonged and incessant cultivation of the genre The real O. Henry is found in an irony pervading all his stories, in a keen