Here is another short story written quickly from an idea given by matt000024.
[QUOTE=matt000024;44602086]1. Robert Manfred
2. An old prison in a third world country
3. 1997
4. A feeling of hopelessness[/QUOTE]
If you don't get the ending, please say so. I didn't want to give away what the last paragraph entails in an obvious manner, but more in a way that it hits you after a minute.
[quote] Life. That was the sentence given to Robert Manfred, a businessman from America who had frequented the city of São Paulo before. The late '80's was a great time for Robert, he had experimented with the hot new drug of the time, cocaine, many times in the U.S., but that was what had been his downfall in São Paulo. Robert stood in the courtroom, head down, knowing he wouldn't be missed back home. He had no family, work had completely devoured his life. The only free time he had was filled with parties; whores and drugs. Brazil was known for being strict when it came to drugs, and Robert Manfred was not an exception to the law.
Robert made his way off of the bus when they had arrived at Carandiru Penitentiary. He had heard stories of this place before. Prisoners were looked down on as lesser beings, guards were dirty, and the living conditions were as bad, if not worse, than a refugee camp in the bowels of Kenya. He didn't know if he'd be able to make it, having to live the rest of his life in this dark and dingy place surrounded by criminals that all spoke a different language than he did. This was not going to be easy in any way.
The chains clanked together as the new prisoners made their way into the front gate. A large, bald Brazilian behind Robert kept nudging him as they walked. Robert looked back once to see the man grinning, and as soon as he made eye contact, the grin turned into a frown and the man's eyes became filled with hatred. This was the first lesson Robert would learn in this new place. [i]Never make eye contact[/i]. They were all led to their cell block, men were screaming from their cells in a language Robert had never bothered to learn; he never felt the need to, the men he worked with here were all fluent in English, as well as Portugese, and the prostitutes all spoke in the language of cash.
Sitting on the bottom bunk in his new home, Robert kept his head down. He could only ponder what was to come. Time was going to drag on, he knew this, and there was nothing he could do about it. He heard the cell door open, and with his eyes still focused on the cold ground, saw a pair of feet stop directly in front of him.
"Chupar o meu pau, viado," said the man standing across from Robert.
"What?" he asked, although he knew whatever the tattooed man said couldn't be good.
"Você vai aprender a me obedecer," responded the man as he awkwardly ran one hand through Robert's hair, and grabbed his own crotch with the other.
Months had passed. Robert had learned that by keeping his cellmate "happy," he would have protection from the other prisoners. The guards were still around to cause him pain, though. They would corner him in the hallways and beat him with their clubs, kick him while he was down, and spit on him. To his cellmate his name was "Cadela," to the guards his name was "Carne branca." Death was a welcome and everyday thought in Robert's mind. Every day he was beaten, sexually abused, and mentally scarred by the things he witnessed. One day he had even watched the guards beat a man to literal death in the middle of the cell block beside a decapitated head lying beside its respective body. The guards had dragged the man out of his cell along with his cellmate whom he had murdered, laid the body and head down, and beat the man to death. They left both bodies on the floor for a week before cleaning it up.
Three years had passed now. Robert had adjusted the best way he could. He took the abuse and kept his head low. It was now 1992, and things had only gotten worse in the prison over the past few years. He had seen many prisoners come and many go, but the ones that went always left behind their bodies. Nobody ever came to the Carandiru Penitentiary and saw the outside world again. Maybe they saw what comes after life, but Robert had had the hope of any afterlife ripped away from him. The horrors he witnessed in this prison had destroyed any faith he had in anything.
Robert was lying on his bed, staring at the bottom of the bed above him. It was quiet. It was never this quiet. He could feel the tension in the air, and knew something was definitely awry.
The whole cell block suddenly erupted. Robert jumped from his bed and ran to the bars. A guard lied dead on the ground, a crudely-fashioned shiv sticking from his right eye. Another guard was curled up in the corner, prisoners slowly approaching him with wild smiles on their faces. Prisoners were everywhere, cells were all being opened. One inmate was running from cell to cell, unlocking each one. Guards were rushing in and clashing with the prisoners on the ground floor. Gunfire started as Robert stood in shock.
This was a riot. A real riot.
He backed up into the corner of his cell as his cellmate ran out to join in. Robert slid down the wall and sat in a ball, holding his ears with his hands. The screams of anger and anguish still seeped through his fingers and into his ears. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and waited for what seemed like an eternity for it to all end. All at once, it stopped. Robert opened his eyes and looked around. Everything was quiet and back to normal. The frosted windows were all dark due to it being night-time, and he figured he must have passed out from the fear and missed most of the riot.
Years passed. It was now 2005 and Robert spent each day never seeing another riot, never being picked on by the guards again, and his cellmate never returned. He figured the bastard died in the riot. Everything was calm in the prison after that day. The prisoners kept their mouths shut, went about their business as calmly as possible. Guards were less, only a few stood post and seemed wasted as they never had to intervene in any issues. Robert didn't know what happened on the outside to take care of what happened the day of the riot, and he was fine with not knowing, because everything was peaceful now.[/quote]
Think I may not be getting the ending. Just woke up so my mind isn't too sharp.
The riot in 1992 really happened, it was huge.
The prison ended up being closed in [i]2002[/i].
[sp]He's dead and his soul, among others, is trapped inside.[/sp]
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