Scott's Creative Writing

Paid Your Dues?



Jesus. The OUTside world. It’s a strange almost unpleasant feeling. It’s surreal to think I can go anywhere I want and do anything I want. IN.

WOW
OUT
My life is unrestricted. No guards. Oh man the possibilities. What to do first? Pub? Na…… Walk? Na……Food? Na…… Drugs? Hell no…… but it could be like the first time! Where the hell am I going to find a dealer? Ten years of dreamin’ about what I’ll do when I get out and I’m stood here unable to decide. I’m incapable of making decisions, in that place you don’t have to make any choices, you just follow orders. This could be tough. Oh well, proper bed it is! WITH

The spare bed at Jimmy’s place felt like heaven; a mattress with springs… two pillows … a duvet. What have I been missing?
THE DOSH. NO ONE

After waking up and taking a shower, good food was the next bounty of the outside world. And by God was it good. Bacon, fried egg, beans, tattie scones – sooooooooo good – I feel I’m hallucinating. GETS HURT….

The thick yellow yolk trickling down my chin gave me a sense of realisation. That night the “simple” job that turned ugly. The reason I stayed for ten years at her majesty’s pleasure.

It all came down to the money; ha-ha bloody money didn’t do me much good in the slammer.

“Right we’re in then out with the dosh. No one gets hurt………..” some plan that was Jimmy.

IN – goes fine, sufficient panic is caused with the shotguns and balaclavas.

Out with the dosh – goes tits up! The bank manager refuses to hand over the money.

“Just shoot him”

Jimmy’s fist slammed into my face, the blood trickled down my chin. Next thing I know
BOOM
The pungent smell of gun powder lingers at the back of my throat. My ears wring ominously. I feel a sickly sensation and my hand is trembling. I had pulled the trigger without taking any conscious decision. Meekly I looked at the dude I had just shot, he lay there whimpering, his leg was obliterated, “NO one gets hurt” My arse.

Christ. The fact I almost killed a guy hurts more out here. Inside, my story barely even compared to some of those sicko’s gruesome tales. It made my guilt seem inappropriate. My ten year sentence seems to be lasting longer than the prescribed limit.

Got to clear my head. Time for a walk. There’s a giant billboard across the street, it shows a good lookin’ girl but I’m clueless to who it is. Another one has an advert for a TV show called “Big Brother” but Christ knows what that is. What’s up with everyone having a mobile phone? I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

Every person that looks at me I start to resent and I judge them.
HA, he would never survive in prison. There I go again; perhaps I think I’m better than them because I’ve been to jail. Anyone that laughs I’m almost convinced it’s at me and I feel like they know what I did and everyone hates me for it.

Oh Shit.

Life out here could be harder than in there!