Happy Valley Prison

• Josephine Atwell, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2013

The gate slammed shut. The bolts clinked together. The lock clicked. The key was thrown away. John Forts was prisoned for life. Locked away and never to be seen again in the outside world. He had been accused for the murder of his father.
When the officers dragged him to this depressing place he screamed and struggled and protested that he never committed this horrible crime. He screamed, “My mother did it! I know she did!”
They told him he was mad.
Happy Valley Prison was dark, dead and dreadful. No one knew why it was called “Happy Valley”. There was definitely no happiness, no life and no love. John felt like he had been accused of everything bad that had happened in his life. He was accused for hitting a girl at school, for stealing the cookies from the kitchen and now for his father’s murder. He knew his mother did it. Something inside him just knew.
One cold, rainy night John lay in his rusty, old bed covered in his straw woven blanket, his overgrown red hair mattered and dry. The wind whistled through the poorly insulated walls. John could hear the usual scratching of spoons and various metal utensils as the other prisoners tried to dig through the cell walls failing miserably. The scratching suddenly stopped and footsteps sounded.
A bulky, muscly officer strutted by.
“You have visitor!” he spat, “Make it quick,” he whispered to a black figure hovering behind the rusty metal bars. John pulled himself out of his bed. An aged woman with shoulder length grey hair stepped into the light. A familiar face stood in front of John, his mother.
“Hello, darling son,” she whispered with a grin on her face
“Don’t come anywhere near me!” he yelled, “I know what you did!”
“Little John, you’ve got it all wrong. You killed your father” she smiled, “why would I do it?”
“I know you did it!” he screamed, “don’t lie!”
“Oh sweetie, you must be mad. You had the gun in your hand. It was your fingerprints on the body, not mine.” She chuckled
“I told you! I don’t remember doing anything, it’s all black and dead just like this prison.” He sobbed
“Fine, believe what you want but I’m not the one locked behind bars, am I?” she grinned a frightening grin
She turned around and walked towards the prison exit. Her heels clicked on the cold concrete floor until they became dim. Her shadow was clear as the moonlight illuminated her figure. John could feel her joy as she walked free of Happy Valley and watched his head resting on his cell’s bars, with innocent tears dripping down his cheeks.