Prison: The Trip of a Lifetime

by Jazmin Scarberry

I’ll never forget the time that I went to jail. Now to most people, jail brings to mind orange suits, soap, 60s days in, and shitty food; however, in my case, I think of art, rummy, and the feeling of freedom. Do not get me wrong, I had my low times, especially when I got caught with the knife in my pocket. It took a lot to talk the guards out of sending me to another block. You may be curious as to how I, a young, middle-class, white woman, could find myself locked in state prison. I consider it now luck of the draw, but you probably would not. It takes a lot of courage and will to come out the way I did. Some take a single glance at a person in my shoes and think “glad it wasn’t me” and “they did it to themselves.” But people like me, people who have looked into the eyes of the corrupt, with a middle finger up, have a different outlook on life. We see people for who they are and notice the small things. We catch when they forget to scan an item or two at the self-checkout line, when they irregularly return the obligations of friendship, and how people look for connections that benefit them without considering what will happen to others. But these things are irrelevant to the story I am telling you now, and you likely would not understand if I continued.

I will tell you now, I have not a single intention of implying or noting my reason for arrest. This is by no means a letter of confession. Instead, consider it a message from someone much different from yourself. I ask you to listen, if you can possibly keep your mind off of anything but yourself. About three months into my stay at what I will call “Sunshine State Prison,” I stood working a shift folding uniforms in the laundry room. It was one of the few places in the prison that smelled halfway decent, so I found myself fond of any period of time I got to spend there. I enjoyed the smell of detergent in my nose and the warmth of the dryers on my skin. Not only did it make my nostrils happy, but it also offered a certain perk. As I would load the orange jumpsuits into the rumbling machines, I would check every single pocket of my inmates. The head guards repeatedly informed me to turn over any paraphernalia I found when searching the suits. I still think to this day how foolish they behaved. Who in their right mind would turn over anything of value in a place like that? I uncovered quite a few things in the pockets of my inmates that helped me make my short-lived stay at prison worthwhile.

I see no harm in telling you the things I found in the pockets of the ignorant. How foolish one must be to leave anything of value unguarded in a place filled with criminals. One of the most notable things I discovered working in the laundry room was a disposable vape. This may not make sense to you, but that is because you haven’t lived as a 22-yearold woman in the 21st century. The things people will do for you to let them take a fat rip of nicotine are endless, especially in prison. Another thing I found was sewn into the back of a shirt pocket of an older inmate woman. It was a small sheet covered with about 40 or so yellow smiling faces. I considered the hiding technique quite smart, although the woman was stupid for letting it go. To the right people, this product could pass anyone’s time happily. But I think my most favorite thing I stumbled across while working in the laundry room was the extra socks. My feet could not stay warm, so each chance I got, I would take socks from the other inmates.

When I left Sunshine State Prison, I ended up somewhere much better than I would have imagined. Somewhere that makes the time slow down, and I can breathe for what feels like the first time. My last day in the hole provided for a lot of last-minute plan execution. You can only do so much prior to breaking out since you are usually being watched. That day when I worked in the laundry room, I slowly jammed a few machines with plastic spoons to occupy the two guards. While they were attempting to fix the machines I dropped the laundry from my hands and made a quick slip through the door to the hall. The trash room was right outside the laundry room and it had the perfect escape route--the trash chute. I picked the lock quietly and made my way into the room, shutting the door behind me with only a click. I jammed a chair under the knob and opened the trash chute. I knew from good sources the landing at the bottom would provide a soft cushion when I fell. When I hit the bags below the chute, I felt some sort of thick, brown liquid splash around me. After that, leaving the prison was a breeze. I hid in the dumpsters until the loading trucks came and left in the back of a truck bed. I vividly remember the smell of old food and soiled sheets fuming around me as I waited for a truck to come. Eventually, I found myself at some sort of gas station and hopped off hours down the road. From there I took clothes from a donation bin in a parking lot and put as much distance as I could between myself and Sunshine State Prison.

by Marina Powell

Movement now, Time to hide, Bloody teeth

And blackened eyes.

Crawling crawling

Over ceiling

Twitching limbs, Listening, feeling. But look, a tapestry

Under sun

Making lace

Where there was none

Fragile art

That falls at touch

Never fear for work undone.

Dewdrops dewdrops

Shimmer shine

Unafraid

In spite of size

Still creating

Never pride

Weaves anew

The hope that died.

The Dream of a Serenity

by Hannah Dix