JAILHOUSE BLUES

This is my Friday Frights story for DarkMedia City this week. The prompt was telekinesis. I hope you enjoy it.



  Jailhouse Blues



     The joint has a stench that is impossible to stomach at times. Sweat, open toilets, and anxiety all have distinctive peculiarities to them, especially on a night like this when the air is stifling, and there is no way to move it around. Relief is nowhere to be found.

     Groans reach my ears from the surrounding cells. Damn these people! What good is it for them to complain? Nothing will change. The guards will walk by from time to time, hot themselves, but taking pleasure in the fact their charges will not be afforded the pleasure of a blast of air from a fan as they will be when they get back to the guard station.

     Marty walks by my cell and stops, retracing his steps until he stands in front of my little home. Looking down at me, he says,"Why don't you bitch and complain like the others do when it gets hot, Henry?"

     Sneering back at him, I say, "Maybe because I'm a man and can take it, pig."

     His face turns bright red and he spits inside my cell. "Cocky bastard, aren't you! No wonder none of the other prisoners want to share a cell with you."

     I laugh. "Did you ever think that perhaps I don't wish to share a space with any of them? They're all a bunch of scum. Kind of like you, Marty."

     He grabs for his keys and stick but thinks better of it. Yeah, he has no more balls than the prisoners here do.

     Emotions. This place runs rampant with them. From the prisoners' standpoint, it's mainly a survival thing, a lot of them trying to avoid becoming the boy-toy of Bubba, others having all they can do to avoid having a shiv stuck up their ass-hole or into their ribs. Not exactly fun and games.

     The guards? It's a job. Their main focus is on preventing any major calamity from affecting them. After all, they have pensions coming when their time has been put in. If they can interject a little cruelty here and there along the way, it's only for the sake of breaking up the boredom.

     Sure. That's a hard sell to me.

     My story? It's a simple one: I'm innocent; I could give a damn less about anyone else in here; and I don't plan on staying long. I've been slapped into solitary confinement on a number of occasions for not playing along with the prescribed agenda, but the stupid bastards don't realize that being in the hole means nothing to me. It's quiet there, and I don't have to put up with the riff-raff.

     Truth be told; I'm left alone by the other prisoners. It's only because of fear . . .fear of the unknown entity that I am. It has served me well in here. Just a little longer and I will leave them alone.

     Content in what I plan to do, I peacefully drift off to sleep, knowing I will need some strength when I wake.

     Two A.M. and Marty walks by my cell again, not stopping this time, afraid of what he might do, of what he wants to do. I smile as his keys come drifting across the space between us, coming through the bars and finding their way to my hand. Stupid bastard: he feels nothing.

     I wait until he has passed down the corridor before I let myself out, feeling the fresh feel of freedom waiting to greet me, even though I'm not home free yet. Yet: the magic word; I will be home free soon.

     Hugging the shadows to stay out of the way of the surveilance cameras, I am surprised when Marty comes charging back down the hallway looking for his missing keys. We are mere feet away when he realizes I have his precious possessions and have gotten out of my cell. He reaches for his stick, but I beat him to it, willing it to fly in to my hands. A look of confusion and panic both strike him, but his moment of hesitation is all I need to hit him square in the center of his skull, splitting it as it is cardboard, causing blood to pour down from his head and leak all over the floor.

     I am innocent no longer.

    Hoping the cameras haven't caught any of what has happened yet, I take one last look at Marty before resuming my retreat from this hell-hole. I suppose I should feel some regret for what I have done, but unfortunately for him, he was in the wrong place when it was time for me to leave. Its a simple matter of the guy who walks out the door in one piece being the winner. I would prefer to have that person be me. For too long, I wasn't that guy who came out on top.

     And then . . .and then that day in solitary came along.

     I was playing mind games to pass the time, to stay sharp mentally, when I found I could move things; not with my hands, but with my mind. Sure, it was small things at first; pebbles on the cell floor; the spoon in my dish; and then the dish. Solitary became a goal of mine after that. What better place to sharpen my new found gifts? How long had I possessed this power and not realized it? Does  everyone have it, but they don't tap into it because of ignorance?

     It doesn't matter. I can do it, and it will get me out of shit central. "C'mon, Henry," I think. "Put your mind to it: to the end of the hallway; down the stairs; one more hall; and out the door to the compound. From there it will be a tougher go, but yes, you can  get out of here."

     One careful step at a time, absorbing everything around me, knowing when something blocks my safe passage, and having the power to do something about it. Yes, this is my journey, one fraught with obstacles, but none of that means anything to me now. The goal? Ah, the goal to gain safe passage to a new world, a place where I can live away from prying eyes checking into my every move, my every function, not even able to take a shit in peace because the toilets are front and center to the cameras. Okay, there was a reason for that, I suppose. Drugs can be hidden up the old Hershey Canal, but for those of us who did not indulge, it was pure invasion of privacy.

     I make it to the compound and watch as the searchlight makes its rounds. It is much brighter out here than I had envisioned, and I know when it swings my way it will be difficult to avoid detection. There is only one choice for me to make.

     The light starts swinging my way and suddenly stops, straining against the rotation device tethering it to a position intent on moving the light on its prescribed path. Gears buckle under to the pressure, and the surveilance device drops to the floor of the tower and shatters. Directing my power to the other three lights, it is only a couple of minutes before all is dark outside. 
     
     Confusion and chaos litter the area as the guards fear for their safety, thinking some sort of major force is attacking them. It's a major force all right, but the assault on them comes from one man, and that person wants the fuck out of here bad!

     The foundation to the towers shake, forcing a wave to move up towards the top, loosening the blocks in the wall. Exerting every bit of my power against the impenetrable stone towers, I almost become dizzy from the effort, but they cave in from the use of my power , and I allow myself to ease off and regain my strength. 

     Guards fall from the towers, some of them killed on impact when they hit the ground, others paralyzed from their journey, shaking, twisting about in their efforts to regain mobility. But those efforts are futile, and they stare in to space after a while, able to think, but knowing they have become vegetables, no more to serve a viable human function.

    Some stupid idiot lets out the dogs, and they charge me. As much as I don't wish any harm to come to them, I have no choice. More debris coming down from the walls pins them to the ground, crushing them, rendering them incapable of doing their job.

     There is no time for me to feel sorrow for what has happened here tonight. The guards from inside will be out here any second. I need to be long gone when that happens.

     A delightful breeze blows across the lawn as I walk to the forest beyond. The air encompassed within is that of freedom. No one will put me behind bars again. Henry is not the same man he was when he walked through those doors a few years back.

     "No," I say to myself, "I am not the same man at all."

     My powers are fine tuned now, and I will put them to use: good use. Within my mind I am able to channel forces far beyond the comprehension of those who will be searching for me, trying to get
me back behind bars. And pity those who get in my way.

     Welcome world. You belong to me.

Blaze McRob