Could it be? A brand new story? Yep!

Andrew sighed as he pressed his face against the window and watched the rain fall. It was going to be another dreary day inside cell block K. He had been rousted from his bed far earlier than he would have liked, and after the morning’s calisthenics, he was forced to participate in the prison’s compulsory education system.

Andrew felt wrong by the system. He was no criminal – he had been railroaded by the system. He missed his younger sister and his parents and was angry that his prison sentence restricted the time he could spend with them. He knew that the years were going to pass very slowly.

For a moment, he envied his brother Sam. Sam was also an unjustly held prisoner. At least Sam had some hope for a better future. Sam was in cell block 6, but would be moving to a new facility within the year. The new facility afforded the inmates more opportunities. It wasn’t freedom, but it was far closer to freedom than Andrew could dream of.

It wouldn’t even be accurate to say that Sam was disappointed with the lunch that the prison served. During his time in the prison, he had grown accustomed to the swill that masqueraded as food. Government workers producing the very worst in institutional food. Andrew felt himself getting sick to his stomach. Didn’t the constitution ban cruel and unusual punishment?

The mid-day siesta was a welcome break from the drudgery within the prison walls. For an hour, Andrew was able to push aside the negativity that filled his days. He dreamed of the better days ahead. Days outside these prison walls, walking through a meadow on a beautiful summer day. For this brief period each day, Andrew had hope for the future, and his mind escaped the prison walls.

After the siesta, the inmates were marched out to the exercise yard for the alloted period of fresh air. The dampness still clung in the air, and it was chilly. Andrew huddled to keep warm as he watched some thugs in another section of the yard. Some of these people had clearly grown accustomed to the life inside these walls and even seemed to enjoy it. Andrew hoped that he would never fall victim to this fate. He would never give up and resign himself to life within the walls.

As the day wound down, Andrew went to a corner of his cell and scrawled another vertical line, marking yet another day within the prison.

“Andy,” shouted Miss Bolton. “We don’t write on the walls. Give me that crayon!”

Andrew smiled sheepishly and gave the red crayon to his kindergarten teacher,