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Set your story in a type of prison cell.

Posted in Dark on Oct 6, 2023

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✍️ 80 stories

Cell 3.47

Winner of Contest #219 🏆

Cell 3.47 was situated on the third floor of B wing in Stocken Gate prison, slap bang in the heart of London’s east end. Known as The Gate, the prison had a reputation for being a tough place to do time. The inmates behind the doors at The Gate endured long cold winters in the Victorian slammer that had been condemned many times but had always escaped closure. It was harsh, it was hard, and it was overrun by rats.Paula Pritchard was the sole resident of cell 3.47, but due to the rodent crisis she was rarely alone. All her schemes to see to t...

135 likes 72 comments 72
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Prison Chip

Shortlisted for Contest #219 ⭐️

I am awake. What is this cell? Blackness, emptiness, where am I? How long have I been here?"Ok, Congressman Jones, Dr. Spears, now for the final leg of the University tour. I am Professor Colin Shelley; please step through here. You are now to witness the jewel in our crown. The fruits of our exploration into organ on a chip."Shelley led them through the laboratory. Rows of partially lit fume hoods lined the room's left, and a larger biosafety cabinet was positioned in the far-left corner. Benches with various apparatus and glassware we...

58 likes 58 comments 58
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Resurgence

Submitted to Contest #219

TW Suggestion of domestic violence, general violence, and child abuse. May cause offense.In the darkness of oblivion, now and as forever, swathes and waves of misery wash over me.Disembodied, immutable, adrift, I should be at peace after all of this time on my own, but the sounds of suffering and pain continue to assault me, as they have done since I was delivered, from one prison to another, tethered by the constraints of many others.Breathless, urgent cries like the bleating of sheep being slaughtered.High-pitched, keening wails like those...

41 likes 40 comments 40
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Cell Phone Cell

Shortlisted for Contest #219 ⭐️

Was it worth it? She hardly liked the taste, would probably not even get it down with the knot growing in her stomach reaching up to her throat. She zoomed in on herself. Cute? Could it be cuter. She glanced toward the clock then the door. Two minutes before her interview. Having no idea what the recruiter looked like she took the risk and took another selfie with her Pumpkin Spice Latte, then zoomed in. Yeah. Cuter. She posted it. “Katelyn?” An older woman stood over her, seemingly to ap...

32 likes 29 comments 29
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My Time in Dently

Submitted to Contest #219

I’d never before considered murdering someone. The idea that I might know who deserved to live and who must die always struck me as arrogant. What marked someone as valuable and just, or waste and immoral, and who among us could rightly make the call? No no. Leave the moralizing to the philosophers and let me never wonder how you might become a prisoner, one of The Others. But that’s what I was now: a captive in a small cell, one of The Others, a deplorable aspect of society, stripped of my old luxuries of gourmet coffee and sleek cars. ...

29 likes 17 comments 17
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Deeper than the Darkest Night

Submitted to Contest #219

Waking is my nightmare. When I open my eyes, there is nothing and for the briefest moment, I am drowning, lost in the prison of this endless and suffocating void. I scream, but the sound is stolen from me. I am buried alive in the unrelenting blackness that is deeper than the darkest night.Then the reality crashes back into my brain as my flailing hand makes sharp contact with human flesh. Small hands press against my chest and face, while unheard whispers sizzle over my cheeks. It’s then that I remember; I’m blind and deaf, the cruel conseq...

27 likes 20 comments 20
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The Exodus of the Corporate Zombies

Shortlisted for Contest #219 ⭐️

I harbor a secret fantasy that the lot of us are undead zombies. Shuffling corpses. Slavish, insentient lumps of meat. Navigating the public transportation system by reflex, devoid of any signs of higher-level cognitive function.I am waiting on a train platform to board the Long Island Railroad. The platform of Riverhead Station is indistinguishable from the platforms of any of the multitude of other trains run by the Metropolitan Transit Authority. The branching arteries all lead back to the beating heart—New York, New York—the Big App...

25 likes 24 comments 24
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Opening Night

Submitted to Contest #219

There has never been any kind of comfort here, yet it is my home. All I have ever known. Thick iron bars, cold stone. Sometimes I have wondered if I am not actually here. But some days, I know that I am. If pain is any indication of realness. Light is nothing but a vacancy. My eyes have long since adjusted. I think I was born here, but to whom, I have no idea. I've never left the cell. Never wanted to either. For the things I have heard from further within . . . Beasts. I know that's what they are. Their growling, clawing the stones. C...

23 likes 5 comments 5
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Rec Time

Submitted to Contest #219

I was never a morning person. I’d cling to my fur blankets and Egyptian cotton, pulling them up over my head at the first hint of daylight. I’d inhale the newfound darkness of my fuzzy veil and the plush promise of more precious slumber and moan myself back to sleep. If I’d had it my way, I’d wrap my consciousness up like a present and gift myself to the moon to be unwrapped every evening under its worthy gleam.I sigh at the luxurious memory. It is an ache in my body like a phantom limb, though its weight holds nothing against the absence of...

23 likes 21 comments 21
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Once Upon a Time in a Prison Cell Somewhere

Submitted to Contest #219

Once Upon a Time in a Prison Cell SomewhereHard time is not swinging away with a hammer at a pile of rocks under a hot sun. No, with fresh air, the sun, clouds, blue sky, movement, and even a pointless purpose, that would have been a blessing for Henry. He might see a flock of geese fly overhead, or hear the song of a cardinal or an oriol in the distance. With luck, he might even catch a light rain and turn his head upward to feel the hand of the real world on his face. Hard time is being stashed away in a God-forsaken concrete block pr...

21 likes 4 comments 4
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The Thirteenth Face

Submitted to Contest #219

What's the use in space if there's nothing in it? I could walk and walk and never reach the edge of my cell, never even know where the edge is. I have everywhere and nowhere to go.They put me here at the end of my trial, without a verdict. I was blindfolded, suddenly and unexplainably, left drifting on what felt like a wave of snow, then - Here. In this endless White, where I can't feel my feet against the floor as I walk. The same as before, as if I never moved at all.I sit on the floor and cross my legs, the absence of seating making me fe...

20 likes 14 comments 14
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Subconcious Convictions

Shortlisted for Contest #219 ⭐️

TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains mentions of the following: Child abuse Death Blood Gun violence PTSD Mental Health Reader discretion is advised. ****** They say in the moment of tragedy, time slows down. During those precious seconds, the mind accelerates. Your surroundings blur and disappear as your attention turns inward. You consider the events that led you to this point and what you could – or should – have done different. You consider who this will affect. You’re suddenly acutely aware of every regret you have. Things you w...

19 likes 5 comments 5
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Favoritism

Submitted to Contest #219

Tw: Stockholm syndrome, unreliable narrator, horrific things seen positively by narrator.“What’s life like outside the prison?” Branimir had once asked the Warden when he was a little boy. He’d been staring out of the spaces between bars at the little bit of outside he could see from his cell, standing on his tiptoes on the stool.”Hell.” The Warden replied simply. “It’s not a place you want to be in. It’s full of murderers and gluttons who starve the less fortunate for fun. You need to stay here, where it’s safe. Besides… you have not yet at...

17 likes 4 comments 4
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Renfield's Lament

Submitted to Contest #219

In the corners of the cold and foreboding stone cell he sat, Where memories and the shadows of a fractured psyche seamlessly blend and swell, In a world forgotten by time, devoid of sun or warming pat, Renfield lingered, a soul seemingly ensnared, but with an essence strangely free. Bound by the powerful force of the dark, a servant that no one could truly see, The stories those walls could tell, if they had voices to share their plea, A silent observer of Renfield’s madness, and the games of a bat, The walls around him whispered haunting ...

17 likes 4 comments 4
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Presto Chango

Submitted to Contest #219

“Let me take a body scan for your I.D. card and you’ll be all set,” Rock Reynolds, Captain of Security says. “Hmm. You have a tattoo on your left wrist.” “The Ace of Spades,” Brandon McCarthy answers. “It’s from my days as a Ranger. Our company was known as ‘the Smokin’ Aces.’” Reynolds takes stock of his newest guard. At 6’ 5” with a contoured frame and gym-honed muscles, Brandon resembles a fierce linebacker ready to blitz a quarterback. Just as important are his soft, trustworthy, almost boyish looks, and his capacity for compassion mix...

16 likes 10 comments 10
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