Jaiman Godla, Grade 8, Girraween High School -
I sat there motionless, feet plunged to the ground. A glimpse of sunshine on my eyes, as I squinted, then moved slightly right. The walls stared at me, pitiful and sympathetic. My body couldn't carry me much longer, weak and tense, I grasped the long black bars the isolated me from the outside world. The inspector strode along the aisle, checking for any escapees.
"Please, I am innocent, let me go. It was him, that man, that man Josh Rancid! I need to see my family!"
"That's what they all say."
He sped away before I could protest any longer. I took the chalk off the floor and drew another tally on the rusty wall. It read, 769, as I glared across my room to see my roommates wall, which read 1567. A leap of sudden aggression overwhelmed me. I'll be here, here forever.
I was a happy man, poor but happy. I worked long hours every day, and my mind felt at ease as I arrived home, to see the playful smiles of my children. I was a janitor, at Rancid Industries, didn't enjoy the job, but it was my only choice. I was sweeping the floor of the restroom when suddenly a series of gunshots took the breath out of me. Scared, puzzled and discombobulated all at the same time, I approached my boss, Josh Rancid, to question if he heard the same sound, and request for protection if so.
As I approached the door handle, a pool of blood leaked under the door, a sea of emotions took over my body. I opened it in a swift motion, to see him, dragging the body across the room. My heart thumped against my chest, as I tip-toed backward, hands in the air, him staring at me, silent. He moved in a sudden motion, the gun in his hand, and I jumped and leaped to the other corner of the room. Rancid released the body onto the floor and hurried to close the door. Sweat trickled down my face, as ominous thoughts ran across my brain. Is my fate sealed?
"Please, don't kill me, I have a family, PLEASE!"
"Relax, I won't do anything to you."
Rancid raised his hands into the air and threw the gun onto the table.
He then rested his hands on my shoulders, a sense of unease overwhelming my emotions.
"I have a proposition. Rancid Industries just raised $300 million from funds and donations across the IT development system. I have enough money in my pocket to ensure the safety and well being of your family. I assure you, if you own up to this crime, I promise that they will live happily and you will feel pleased that they are living without the lack of resources."
Thoughts sprinting across my brain, as he stared at me, both of us still, as sirens broke the silence, and blue and red lights flashed through the windows.
"QUICK, we don't have much longer!"
I light smile appeared on my face, as I pondered them living happily...freely!"
"Do you promise?"
The biggest mistake was that single second, through a gentle nod in which he ran away and I took the gun in my hand and raised it in the air.
Not so long later, the police ran into Rancid's office, and with the sight of a gun, didn't question and locked me up, and took me here. And here I am now, 769 days later, thinking about that nod, and how much I wish that I just had run away. The daily postman arrived, and I tore the envelope open, as he threw it onto the floor. It was from Lisa, my wife, and it read, "He still hasn't come. Kids are starving. I am dying. Come home." IT felt as if I had been stabbed in the back 769 times; that devil never supported my family.
All the gates opened for lunch, as all the prisoners lined up. All of them, except me. I strode outside towards the gate, lined with razor wire. The sun stared at me, pitiful and sympathetic. I grasped the gate and put one foot on it, and a few moments later, put it down. I'll be here, here forever.