Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Essays on prison life
Imaginative essay on life in prison
Essays on prison life
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: Essays on prison life
It’s been three months since they took me. Three months in this hole in the ground. Tonight, sleep seems to elude me. These rock walls seem to be the only friends I have here. The other prisoners have each other, but I am an outcast. I wonder what it’s like back in America. I used to hate the sound of the midnight trains passing by my house; now it’s what I long for. I pull the silver cross necklace out of the brown shirt I had been given to replace my army jacket and flipped it over and over as I stared at the ceiling. The little cross seemed to give off a little light in the darkness, and I closed my hand around it and tucked it back in my shirt. “Why me?” I asked no one. “Out of everyone that it could have been, it had to be me.” I whispered into the darkness.
The next morning, I was awoken by a gunshot being fired two rooms over. This was the usual wake up call, but it made me sick every time I heard it. The man over the prisoners had taken a liking to firing his gun whenever he felt the urge. Usually the bullet was fired harmlessly into a sandbag, like this morning, but if he was in a particularly bad mood the bullet might find its mark in someone’s arm. The other men and I scrambled to put on our yarn hat and gloves as we were pushed out into the sun. Before my eyes could adjust, I was shoved to the ground by a guard. He yelled in some other language, but I understood that he wanted me to move. We were herded into a mine, just like every other day, and descended into darkness. The caverns were dimly lit and the air smelled as bad as it was to breathe. No one talked, and everyone grabbed a pickaxe. The only noise was the deafening clanging of iron against rock and dirt. We seldom found any ge...
... middle of paper ...
...urious eyes that still contained so many dreams. “That gun would not work.” I took off my cross necklace and held it out to him. As his hand closed around it, I quietly told him, “I didn’t.” That night was remembered by many as the night they could forget about the pain and poverty, but to one boy, one that barely spoke English and that because had the guts to speak to an outcast, it was a night that he met a God that can see you through all the hardship and pain. God had also heard my prayers of loneliness that I had prayed almost every night in anger that I was here. As I leaned my head back against the wall, after the dances and songs had long ended and the boy had fallen asleep on my shoulder, I looked up at the stone ceiling. I simply nodded in understanding of my situation and closed my eyes. I slept peacefully.
...feet underground. It reads, “The resulting shortness of breath, where even the deepest inhalation fails to satisfy the demands of the lungs, coupled with the visual confines of the surrounding rock, may induce in some an acute claustrophobia. Voynick continues, “It surfaces as a discomfort most often felt when taking a break after exertion, when the mind is idle. One might lie back on a piece of lagging and look up, imagining that the tightness in his chest and lungs is caused by an invisible, but distinctly tangible, force, a vice, always squeezing, constraining just enough to prevent that last bit of needed air from getting into the lungs.” These sentences can truly be understood by any who have experienced the underground. I feel that Voynick’s book pronounced through direct words and simple writing that hardrock mining is both risky but nevertheless rewarding.
Murder is a reprobate action that is an inevitable part of war. It forces humans into immoral acts, which can manifest in the forms such as shooting or close combat. The life of a soldier is ultimately decided from the killer, whether or not he follows through with his actions. In the short stories The Sniper by Liam O'Flaherty and Just Lather, That's All by Hernando Téllez, the killer must decide the fate of their victims under circumstantial constraints. The two story explore the difference between killing at a close proximity compared to killing at a distance, and how they affect the killer's final decision.
The chat wasn’t the only lasting result of the mining; left in this corner of Oklahoma was also 300 miles of mining tunnels (5). These tunnels were created by a method known as room-and-pillar (1). Large rooms were mined to get access to ...
Between the covers of the book Night is the story of a boy who had to endure the constant threat of death. He had to watch as other perished, family, friends, strangers, everyone. Yet his God had done nothing. He remained unmoved and silent. How could a God he was taught to look upon when anguished allow such savagery to
The Sun is slowly sinking. Birds are ceasing to sing. You should be asleep, but instead, you’re wondering if you will. There’s no way to earn money, you are going to have to find another way to help yourself. Forget about sleeping in a house, the cold ground is your bed. All of your “friends” have vanished, your canteen is dry, and if you go into town, you will surely be shot. Once you go wrong, you can’t go back, because you’re wanted. Dead or alive.
There was no sleep in store for me that night. I was tormented by my own demons. I was agonized by the thought of blank Thursdays. Discomfort held hands with the black of night, and the black of night greeted me with a sour embrace.
A series of shots being fired in the near distance can be heard. A crew of ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks are seen speeding down the streets while blaring their sirens to warn people to move out of the way rapidly. Then, crowds of people are seen running down the street franticly. Sounds of earsplitting yells fill the air. Their eyes are filled with tears of fear and terror. They look as if they were running for their lives. There is a wave of worry and curiosity that washes over everyone’s face as they stand there from a distance watching it take place. There was a sense of wanting to run towards the chaos to see what was going on. But the panic of the people running gave off the feeling of “Warning! Do NOT come this way!” What was happening? Later that night, the news reports that another mass shooting took place earlier on in the day. In the 21st century, many crimes involving mass shootings are the main focus of the public eye in the media. With the technology of the 21st century, investigators are able to look more into depth of the criminal’s background to see if they have a history of mental illness.
Although prisons have the primary objective of rehabilitation, prisoners will likely go through many other troubling emotions before reaching a point of reformation. Being ostracized from society, it is not uncommon to experience despair, depression, and hopelessness. Be that as it may, through reading various prison writings, it can be seen that inmates can find hope in the smallest things. As represented in “Hard Rock Returns to Prison from the Hospital for the Criminally Insane”, the author, Etheridge Knight, as well as other black inmates look up to Hard Rock, an inmate who is all but dutiful in a world where white people are placed at the top of the totem pole. However, after Hard Rock goes through a lobotomy-esque procedure, the motif
difficult relationships present that day in the prison, and emphasizing with detail on a few inmates
Etheridge Knight’s “Hard Rock Returns to Prison from the Hospital for the Criminal Insane” is an interesting poem spurred from his own experiences, that explores a variety of things from basic human emotions to controversial medical treatments. Knight was incarcerated for 8 years for robbery, during which he began to develop his skill as a poet, and this stint in prison influenced the settings and styles of his poetry. Knight’s poem is unique in its slang-styled diction, but brings about relatable concepts to allow the reader to connect with the text. Two prominent themes within the poem are that anyone, no matter how strong or looked up to, can be broken, and also that slavery is still alive today, even if it is not in its traditional form. Knight combines these themes with deeper meanings and an individual way of writing to create a poem that is compelling and classic.
“To Build a Fire”, a short story written by Jack London, is viewed as a masterpiece of naturalist fiction. “To Build a Fire” features a miner and his wolf-dog companion who are traveling in the Yukon Territory to meet fellow miners. The miner is the protagonist and the wolf-dog companion is the foil because the wolf-dog plays off of the traits of the protagonist. The central theme of “To Build a Fire” concerns the struggle of man versus nature. “To Build a Fire” tells of a man traveling in the extreme cold through the Yukon Territory. Before heading out on his journey, the man is warned not to travel alone in the extreme cold, but he travels any way. The man faces many hardships while on his journey. Despite his effort to stay warm and survive, the man freezes to death before he reaches his destination. The wolf-dog in the story studies the situation and knows that traveling is not a good idea. The wolf-dog stays with the miner until his death. Once the miner dies, the wolf-dog finishes his journey by heading off to the miners’ camp on his own. The most argued point of this short story is the reason for the protagonist’s death. Even though the miner in “To Build a Fire” eventually panics after being unable to start a fire, he struggles in the wilderness of the Yukon Territory and ultimately finds his death due to ignorance caused by a lack intuition and imagination.
A few days had past, and we were still in that dark, wet, and cold place. They gave us food and water, but we are very scared of these white men. Later I found that we had being sold to work for other white men. The dark, wet, and cold place was a boat.
At the end of my mat was the other end of the cell. The wall hovered over me like a tall, ominous castle. Small blocks protruded from beneath the thick, smooth paint and stared at me. A long, thin ray of light replicated the thin, long, dirty piece of glass that was probably trying to mimic a window. It was about three inches wide and a good meter in length. Sometimes, I stare out that window at the world outside, at the people walking freely on the streets two stories below. I wonder if they appreciate the freedom they have. I wonder if they appreciate the smell of the air. I wonder if they appreciate the nice, big windows they look through when they go home. Home. I wonder if they appreciate home. I know I didn't before. No. I didn't appreciate any of that; at least not the way I will when I can have them again.
Just a valley of nothingness for miles. What was I to do with people I wasn’t even friends with for four days? The mere thought of it consumed me. Then I hear the scoutmaster shout, “Okay boys! We’re going to kick things off with a bang. Your first activity for today will be to locate your camping gear!” Immediately I thought to myself, “what? Are you kidding me?” The day shifted from bad to worse, and I didn’t think it was going to stop there. So here I was with my troop, maps in hand, the mixture of fear and anxiety overwhelming us. We contemplated our game plan for a while. Another scout, who would later become my best friend, broke the silence. “Well, better get going before it gets dark. Don’t want to be sleeping out in the open.” Reluctantly, the rest of us got up and followed.
...light arose, my eyes began to squint shut trying to block the sunlight drifting in. I failed and immediately woke up opening my red watery burning eyes. David ran through the rough edged sedimentary grey rocks and through the bright green leaves of the trees with an idea. “To get rescued we should make a large SOS sign with rocks so that the planes flying from above can see it” he said. I thought the idea was incredible, so we all came together placing rock after rock deeply in the wet sparkly sludge like sand. After a long hardworking 12 hours we were finally finished. As we waited anxiously day after day for rescue we finally received it. Fifteen days later a enormous smooth plane landed on the island. As the plane slowly lifted off the almond colored ground making a turbo noise, I felt that we all learned in any situation that we need to stick together to survive.