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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024
Submitted to Contest #313
Eustace Crowley lay there calm, relaxed for the first time in weeks, waiting for the night guard to make his rounds and take final count. The television had been turned off and Rumosi, ol’ Rum Nose the cons called him because of the frequent odor of alcohol that wafted about him and the red patchwork quilt of veins that covered his nose and cheeks, was due to come through the tank. After that, lights would dim, the other prisoners would go to sleep, and Eustace could leave. He wished there was some way he could be here the next morning to...
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