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Kenny Gardner stood at the gates of Blackwood prison, about to start his new life. He thought back to the previous week, when he and Sally had gone to the carnival, and Madam Rosa had read his fortune. "A new career will change your life forever," she had said. She probably said that to everybody; there was no way she could've known about his new job - it wasn't even confirmed until two days later.
He looked up at the foreboding sight of the large, grey building looming before him, it's cold, stone walls housing nearly three hundred low-security prisoners. But it hadn't always been like that. Forty years earlier, Blackwood had housed some of the most evil and depraved minds in the country; all of them sentenced to death.
Being only twenty-six years old, Kenny hadn't heard of any of the murderers and brutal thugs that were brought here to hang. Sure, he'd seen a few old newspaper clippings and heard the occasional story while he was doing his training, but they were all dead now; the worst he'd have to deal with were petty thieves and remand prisoners.
He straightened his jacket and quickly checked his identity card. It felt good to be wearing a uniform at last, he thought, especially after so many disappointments - too short for the Police, not fit enouugh for the Fire Brigade - yes, this was the start of his new life.
After a short conversation with the gateman, and one last look at his uniform, he marched towards the main building, eager to begin his first day.
* * * *
Kenny walked down the corridor towards the canteen, side by side with fellow warden, Pete Morris. Morris was to be Kenny's official guide for the next two days while he settled in and acquainted himself with the layout, and learned who to watch out for.
"So, Kenny, have you always wanted to be a prison officer?" asked Morris, with a wry smile.
"No, I just like the uniform," Kenny answered.
Morris let out a light-hearted chuckle, taking the reply as a joke, unaware that Kenny was actually being serious. Although they'd only spent one morning together, Kenny decided that he liked Morris - he was relaxed, had a good sense of humour, and most importantly, he was easy to get along with.
The canteen was virtually empty; just a handful of prisoners on kitchen duty, preparing the food and putting trays and cutlery out. In a few minutes the bell would sound and the rest of the inmates would be pouring through the door for lunch.
* * * *
By the end of lunch, Kenny had seen most of the prisoners. Morris pointed out the ones to keep an eye on and gave him a brief history on numerous others. A small, grey-haired man came toward them, carrying a tray. He was in his late sixties, wearing dark blue trousers and a light blue shirt - standard inmate issue.
"Ready now, Mr. Morris, sir!" said the old man.
"Okay, Arthur," Morris answered, "this is Officer Gardner, he'll be escorting you to solitary today."
"Solitary?" Kenny looked at Morris.
"Yeah, you should be able to handle it on your own," said Morris, "there's only Barker up there; he shouldn't be a problem now that he's sobered up."
The old man proceeded to the door, then waited patiently for his escort. After a few closing words with Morris, Kenny followed and, motioning Arthur to lead the way, left the canteen.
Solitary was several minutes away, on the other side of the building, and two floors up. Most of the cells they passed on the way were empty, with the majority of inmates either in the recreation area or the prison library.
A few minutes later, Kenny was unlocking the gate to the isolation area; solitary was just beyond. The isolation area was for prisoners who, for one reason or another, had to be kept away from the rest of the inmates - it was presently unoccupied. Kenny was just mulling over how quiet and lonely this area was, when...
CRASH!
Arthur was kneeling on the ground, the contents of the tray strewn across the floor and down his shirt.
"Sorry, Mr. Gardner, sir," he whimpered, "I slipped, it was an accident, 'onest."
Kenny gave a sigh. "Run down to the canteen quickly, before they dump the leftovers, and fetch up another tray."
"Yes sir, Mr. Gardner, sir," Arthur said, clambering to his feet.
The young officer watched as the old man hurried off back in the direction they'd just come. A sudden sound caused him to look around again.
Kenny was standing at one end of the short isolation corridor; an old, gaunt-looking man stood at the other.
"What are you doing in this area?" Kenny asked. "It's meant to be empty."
The old man said nothing, and just stared at him.
"Well? Answer me," he said more sharply.
The old man turned away and vanished around the corner.
"Hey? Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you," he shouted. "Come back here."
Kenny ran down the corridor after him, and was just in time to see the man disappear into an open cell. He thought for a moment about how he should handle this. Being a new warden, somebody was bound to try it on sooner or later, and if he was to let this pass they'd be walking all over him in no time. But, on the other hand, if he came down too hard, he'd probably get half the prisoners off side, and they'd make his life difficult anyway.
No, he thought. Unless the bloke's deaf, he'd better have a damn good reason for not answering. He came to a stop several feet from the cell door; an eerie feeling sent a shiver down his spine, warning him that something wasn't right.
Don't be such a coward, he told himself, it's just an old man, nothing to be afraid of. Stepping up to the doorway, he peered into the room.
A bed lay against the far wall, and beside it stood a small table. Along the left-hand wall rested a tall metal locker. Just your average cell, except for the absence of any personal effects, such as photographs, books, posters, and...
No prisoner.
Where'd he go, thought Kenny. He definately saw him come in here -.maybe he's behind the door, waiting to pounce.
"Okay, game over, come on out!" he spoke loudly and clearly.
Nothing.
Kenny stepped cautiously into the cell, then quickly side-stepped the door.
Getting attacked by a psycho on my first day, that's all I need, he thought, staying close to the wall. He was halfway into the room when it became obvious that there was nobody there but himself.
This is crazy, he thought, shaking his head, then his gaze fell on the locker. He walked over to it, slowly reaching out for the handle, and then quickly pulled open the door.
Empty.
Staring at the blank metal, Kenny tried to think of some rational explanation for the disappearance. He can't have vanished into thin air?
His mind was working overtime, searching for a reason when, suddenly, a shadow appeared, reflecting on the back of the locker, sending a chill through his whole body. There was somebody behind him, he could hear them breathing, feel their hot breath against his nape. He stood still for a moment - frozen - then he turned...
Nothing.
There was a quiet giggle just outside the cell. Kenny ran out into the corridor.
Nobody.
"Come on, stop messing about! The joke's over!" he called. But there was no reply.
What's going on, he thought.
The young man turned, peering once more into the cell. It was still empty, but somehow different. On the table by the bed, stood a small framed photograph. Walking back into the room, he reached down and picked it up. It was Sally, but... not Sally. She was different - her hair, her clothes - they seemed old-fashioned. This is impossible, I must be dreaming?
There came the sound of a door opening behind him. He swung around to see two burly prison officers standing in the doorway, their uniforms were similar to his own but looked a little more dated.
"Hi, I'm Kenny Gardner," he said, reaching for his identity card. His hand brushed against his pocket, but he felt nothing.
"Don't try pretending you're mad, Maxwell. It's too late to be sorry now," said one of the officers. "You killed your wife, and now it's time to pay the price."
"What?" Kenny looked down at his own attire - his uniform had gone, replaced by the two-tone, blue overall of an inmate. He looked up again as the wardens grabbed his arms, and promptly manacled his wrists.
"What's going on here?" he screamed, the two officers jostling him to the door, "where are you taking me?"
"Come on Maxwell, I thought you'd go out with a little more dignity than this," was the only reply.
A priest was waiting for them outside the cell.
"I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny Gardner," the young man pleaded, "I started work here this morning."
The priest walked ahead of him, muttering some archaic prayer, Kenny took no notice. Shock had seized him, he was sobbing uncontrollably.
Finally, he was led through a heavy door, and into a large room. Before him stood a well-built man, his face covered by a black hood. Next to him, on a raised platform was the tall wooden gallows, and a waiting noose.
"No, no," he cried, "you're making a mistake, I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny."
He struggled as the men dragged him forward, towards the steps.
"Please, I didn't do anything," he begged.
A black sack was thrown over his face. He was almost sick as he felt the rope going over his head and then tighten around his neck.
"Help me! Sally!" he screamed.
There was the clunk of the trapdoor opening and then...
* * * *
Kenny was back in the corridor, as white as a sheet. Arthur was walking towards him, carrying a new tray.
"Shouldn't go in there, Mr. Gardner, sir," said Arthur. "It's 'aunted, it is! Mangler Maxwell. Killed 'is wife in a jealous rage. Thought she was 'aving an affair with a prison warden."
"Really?" said Kenny, still shaking as he continued down the corridor. "Tell me about it."
He looked up at the foreboding sight of the large, grey building looming before him, it's cold, stone walls housing nearly three hundred low-security prisoners. But it hadn't always been like that. Forty years earlier, Blackwood had housed some of the most evil and depraved minds in the country; all of them sentenced to death.
Being only twenty-six years old, Kenny hadn't heard of any of the murderers and brutal thugs that were brought here to hang. Sure, he'd seen a few old newspaper clippings and heard the occasional story while he was doing his training, but they were all dead now; the worst he'd have to deal with were petty thieves and remand prisoners.
He straightened his jacket and quickly checked his identity card. It felt good to be wearing a uniform at last, he thought, especially after so many disappointments - too short for the Police, not fit enouugh for the Fire Brigade - yes, this was the start of his new life.
After a short conversation with the gateman, and one last look at his uniform, he marched towards the main building, eager to begin his first day.
* * * *
Kenny walked down the corridor towards the canteen, side by side with fellow warden, Pete Morris. Morris was to be Kenny's official guide for the next two days while he settled in and acquainted himself with the layout, and learned who to watch out for.
"So, Kenny, have you always wanted to be a prison officer?" asked Morris, with a wry smile.
"No, I just like the uniform," Kenny answered.
Morris let out a light-hearted chuckle, taking the reply as a joke, unaware that Kenny was actually being serious. Although they'd only spent one morning together, Kenny decided that he liked Morris - he was relaxed, had a good sense of humour, and most importantly, he was easy to get along with.
The canteen was virtually empty; just a handful of prisoners on kitchen duty, preparing the food and putting trays and cutlery out. In a few minutes the bell would sound and the rest of the inmates would be pouring through the door for lunch.
* * * *
By the end of lunch, Kenny had seen most of the prisoners. Morris pointed out the ones to keep an eye on and gave him a brief history on numerous others. A small, grey-haired man came toward them, carrying a tray. He was in his late sixties, wearing dark blue trousers and a light blue shirt - standard inmate issue.
"Ready now, Mr. Morris, sir!" said the old man.
"Okay, Arthur," Morris answered, "this is Officer Gardner, he'll be escorting you to solitary today."
"Solitary?" Kenny looked at Morris.
"Yeah, you should be able to handle it on your own," said Morris, "there's only Barker up there; he shouldn't be a problem now that he's sobered up."
The old man proceeded to the door, then waited patiently for his escort. After a few closing words with Morris, Kenny followed and, motioning Arthur to lead the way, left the canteen.
Solitary was several minutes away, on the other side of the building, and two floors up. Most of the cells they passed on the way were empty, with the majority of inmates either in the recreation area or the prison library.
A few minutes later, Kenny was unlocking the gate to the isolation area; solitary was just beyond. The isolation area was for prisoners who, for one reason or another, had to be kept away from the rest of the inmates - it was presently unoccupied. Kenny was just mulling over how quiet and lonely this area was, when...
CRASH!
Arthur was kneeling on the ground, the contents of the tray strewn across the floor and down his shirt.
"Sorry, Mr. Gardner, sir," he whimpered, "I slipped, it was an accident, 'onest."
Kenny gave a sigh. "Run down to the canteen quickly, before they dump the leftovers, and fetch up another tray."
"Yes sir, Mr. Gardner, sir," Arthur said, clambering to his feet.
The young officer watched as the old man hurried off back in the direction they'd just come. A sudden sound caused him to look around again.
Kenny was standing at one end of the short isolation corridor; an old, gaunt-looking man stood at the other.
"What are you doing in this area?" Kenny asked. "It's meant to be empty."
The old man said nothing, and just stared at him.
"Well? Answer me," he said more sharply.
The old man turned away and vanished around the corner.
"Hey? Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you," he shouted. "Come back here."
Kenny ran down the corridor after him, and was just in time to see the man disappear into an open cell. He thought for a moment about how he should handle this. Being a new warden, somebody was bound to try it on sooner or later, and if he was to let this pass they'd be walking all over him in no time. But, on the other hand, if he came down too hard, he'd probably get half the prisoners off side, and they'd make his life difficult anyway.
No, he thought. Unless the bloke's deaf, he'd better have a damn good reason for not answering. He came to a stop several feet from the cell door; an eerie feeling sent a shiver down his spine, warning him that something wasn't right.
Don't be such a coward, he told himself, it's just an old man, nothing to be afraid of. Stepping up to the doorway, he peered into the room.
A bed lay against the far wall, and beside it stood a small table. Along the left-hand wall rested a tall metal locker. Just your average cell, except for the absence of any personal effects, such as photographs, books, posters, and...
No prisoner.
Where'd he go, thought Kenny. He definately saw him come in here -.maybe he's behind the door, waiting to pounce.
"Okay, game over, come on out!" he spoke loudly and clearly.
Nothing.
Kenny stepped cautiously into the cell, then quickly side-stepped the door.
Getting attacked by a psycho on my first day, that's all I need, he thought, staying close to the wall. He was halfway into the room when it became obvious that there was nobody there but himself.
This is crazy, he thought, shaking his head, then his gaze fell on the locker. He walked over to it, slowly reaching out for the handle, and then quickly pulled open the door.
Empty.
Staring at the blank metal, Kenny tried to think of some rational explanation for the disappearance. He can't have vanished into thin air?
His mind was working overtime, searching for a reason when, suddenly, a shadow appeared, reflecting on the back of the locker, sending a chill through his whole body. There was somebody behind him, he could hear them breathing, feel their hot breath against his nape. He stood still for a moment - frozen - then he turned...
Nothing.
There was a quiet giggle just outside the cell. Kenny ran out into the corridor.
Nobody.
"Come on, stop messing about! The joke's over!" he called. But there was no reply.
What's going on, he thought.
The young man turned, peering once more into the cell. It was still empty, but somehow different. On the table by the bed, stood a small framed photograph. Walking back into the room, he reached down and picked it up. It was Sally, but... not Sally. She was different - her hair, her clothes - they seemed old-fashioned. This is impossible, I must be dreaming?
There came the sound of a door opening behind him. He swung around to see two burly prison officers standing in the doorway, their uniforms were similar to his own but looked a little more dated.
"Hi, I'm Kenny Gardner," he said, reaching for his identity card. His hand brushed against his pocket, but he felt nothing.
"Don't try pretending you're mad, Maxwell. It's too late to be sorry now," said one of the officers. "You killed your wife, and now it's time to pay the price."
"What?" Kenny looked down at his own attire - his uniform had gone, replaced by the two-tone, blue overall of an inmate. He looked up again as the wardens grabbed his arms, and promptly manacled his wrists.
"What's going on here?" he screamed, the two officers jostling him to the door, "where are you taking me?"
"Come on Maxwell, I thought you'd go out with a little more dignity than this," was the only reply.
A priest was waiting for them outside the cell.
"I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny Gardner," the young man pleaded, "I started work here this morning."
The priest walked ahead of him, muttering some archaic prayer, Kenny took no notice. Shock had seized him, he was sobbing uncontrollably.
Finally, he was led through a heavy door, and into a large room. Before him stood a well-built man, his face covered by a black hood. Next to him, on a raised platform was the tall wooden gallows, and a waiting noose.
"No, no," he cried, "you're making a mistake, I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny."
He struggled as the men dragged him forward, towards the steps.
"Please, I didn't do anything," he begged.
A black sack was thrown over his face. He was almost sick as he felt the rope going over his head and then tighten around his neck.
"Help me! Sally!" he screamed.
There was the clunk of the trapdoor opening and then...
* * * *
Kenny was back in the corridor, as white as a sheet. Arthur was walking towards him, carrying a new tray.
"Shouldn't go in there, Mr. Gardner, sir," said Arthur. "It's 'aunted, it is! Mangler Maxwell. Killed 'is wife in a jealous rage. Thought she was 'aving an affair with a prison warden."
"Really?" said Kenny, still shaking as he continued down the corridor. "Tell me about it."
Heh I'd like to see one of his Novels :-P it wasn't bad (mind you I've failed pretty much every English test i've ever had so i'd envy a monkey who could write his name...)
as i scrolled down the page of this "short" story and estimated it was about 2 or 3 pages in length, I asked myself "Should I waste approximately 5mins of my life reading that?".
Conclusion : YOU'RE HAVING A LAUGH
Conclusion : YOU'RE HAVING A LAUGH
That was neither short, nor a story.
Well maybe it was a story.
Well maybe it was a story.
Kenny Gardner stood at the gates of Blackwood prison, about to start his new life. He thought back to the previous week, when he and Sally had gone to the carnival, and Madam Rosa had read his fortune. "A new career will change your life forever," she had said. She probably said that to everybody; there was no way she could've known about his new job - it wasn't even confirmed until two days later.
He looked up at the foreboding sight of the large, grey building looming before him, it's cold, stone walls housing nearly three hundred low-security prisoners. But it hadn't always been like that. Forty years earlier, Blackwood had housed some of the most evil and depraved minds in the country; all of them sentenced to death.
Being only twenty-six years old, Kenny hadn't heard of any of the murderers and brutal thugs that were brought here to hang. Sure, he'd seen a few old newspaper clippings and heard the occasional story while he was doing his training, but they were all dead now; the worst he'd have to deal with were petty thieves and remand prisoners.
He straightened his jacket and quickly checked his identity card. It felt good to be wearing a uniform at last, he thought, especially after so many disappointments - too short for the Police, not fit enouugh for the Fire Brigade - yes, this was the start of his new life.
After a short conversation with the gateman, and one last look at his uniform, he marched towards the main building, eager to begin his first day.
* * * *
Kenny walked down the corridor towards the canteen, side by side with fellow warden, Pete Morris. Morris was to be Kenny's official guide for the next two days while he settled in and acquainted himself with the layout, and learned who to watch out for.
"So, Kenny, have you always wanted to be a prison officer?" asked Morris, with a wry smile.
"No, I just like the uniform," Kenny answered.
Morris let out a light-hearted chuckle, taking the reply as a joke, unaware that Kenny was actually being serious. Although they'd only spent one morning together, Kenny decided that he liked Morris - he was relaxed, had a good sense of humour, and most importantly, he was easy to get along with.
The canteen was virtually empty; just a handful of prisoners on kitchen duty, preparing the food and putting trays and cutlery out. In a few minutes the bell would sound and the rest of the inmates would be pouring through the door for lunch.
* * * *
By the end of lunch, Kenny had seen most of the prisoners. Morris pointed out the ones to keep an eye on and gave him a brief history on numerous others. A small, grey-haired man came toward them, carrying a tray. He was in his late sixties, wearing dark blue trousers and a light blue shirt - standard inmate issue.
"Ready now, Mr. Morris, sir!" said the old man.
"Okay, Arthur," Morris answered, "this is Officer Gardner, he'll be escorting you to solitary today."
"Solitary?" Kenny looked at Morris.
"Yeah, you should be able to handle it on your own," said Morris, "there's only Barker up there; he shouldn't be a problem now that he's sobered up."
The old man proceeded to the door, then waited patiently for his escort. After a few closing words with Morris, Kenny followed and, motioning Arthur to lead the way, left the canteen.
Solitary was several minutes away, on the other side of the building, and two floors up. Most of the cells they passed on the way were empty, with the majority of inmates either in the recreation area or the prison library.
A few minutes later, Kenny was unlocking the gate to the isolation area; solitary was just beyond. The isolation area was for prisoners who, for one reason or another, had to be kept away from the rest of the inmates - it was presently unoccupied. Kenny was just mulling over how quiet and lonely this area was, when...
CRASH!
Arthur was kneeling on the ground, the contents of the tray strewn across the floor and down his shirt.
"Sorry, Mr. Gardner, sir," he whimpered, "I slipped, it was an accident, 'onest."
Kenny gave a sigh. "Run down to the canteen quickly, before they dump the leftovers, and fetch up another tray."
"Yes sir, Mr. Gardner, sir," Arthur said, clambering to his feet.
The young officer watched as the old man hurried off back in the direction they'd just come. A sudden sound caused him to look around again.
Kenny was standing at one end of the short isolation corridor; an old, gaunt-looking man stood at the other.
"What are you doing in this area?" Kenny asked. "It's meant to be empty."
The old man said nothing, and just stared at him.
"Well? Answer me," he said more sharply.
The old man turned away and vanished around the corner.
"Hey? Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you," he shouted. "Come back here."
Kenny ran down the corridor after him, and was just in time to see the man disappear into an open cell. He thought for a moment about how he should handle this. Being a new warden, somebody was bound to try it on sooner or later, and if he was to let this pass they'd be walking all over him in no time. But, on the other hand, if he came down too hard, he'd probably get half the prisoners off side, and they'd make his life difficult anyway.
No, he thought. Unless the bloke's deaf, he'd better have a damn good reason for not answering. He came to a stop several feet from the cell door; an eerie feeling sent a shiver down his spine, warning him that something wasn't right.
Don't be such a coward, he told himself, it's just an old man, nothing to be afraid of. Stepping up to the doorway, he peered into the room.
A bed lay against the far wall, and beside it stood a small table. Along the left-hand wall rested a tall metal locker. Just your average cell, except for the absence of any personal effects, such as photographs, books, posters, and...
No prisoner.
Where'd he go, thought Kenny. He definately saw him come in here -.maybe he's behind the door, waiting to pounce.
"Okay, game over, come on out!" he spoke loudly and clearly.
Nothing.
Kenny stepped cautiously into the cell, then quickly side-stepped the door.
Getting attacked by a psycho on my first day, that's all I need, he thought, staying close to the wall. He was halfway into the room when it became obvious that there was nobody there but himself.
This is crazy, he thought, shaking his head, then his gaze fell on the locker. He walked over to it, slowly reaching out for the handle, and then quickly pulled open the door.
Empty.
Staring at the blank metal, Kenny tried to think of some rational explanation for the disappearance. He can't have vanished into thin air?
His mind was working overtime, searching for a reason when, suddenly, a shadow appeared, reflecting on the back of the locker, sending a chill through his whole body. There was somebody behind him, he could hear them breathing, feel their hot breath against his nape. He stood still for a moment - frozen - then he turned...
Nothing.
There was a quiet giggle just outside the cell. Kenny ran out into the corridor.
Nobody.
"Come on, stop messing about! The joke's over!" he called. But there was no reply.
What's going on, he thought.
The young man turned, peering once more into the cell. It was still empty, but somehow different. On the table by the bed, stood a small framed photograph. Walking back into the room, he reached down and picked it up. It was Sally, but... not Sally. She was different - her hair, her clothes - they seemed old-fashioned. This is impossible, I must be dreaming?
There came the sound of a door opening behind him. He swung around to see two burly prison officers standing in the doorway, their uniforms were similar to his own but looked a little more dated.
"Hi, I'm Kenny Gardner," he said, reaching for his identity card. His hand brushed against his pocket, but he felt nothing.
"Don't try pretending you're mad, Maxwell. It's too late to be sorry now," said one of the officers. "You killed your wife, and now it's time to pay the price."
"What?" Kenny looked down at his own attire - his uniform had gone, replaced by the two-tone, blue overall of an inmate. He looked up again as the wardens grabbed his arms, and promptly manacled his wrists.
"What's going on here?" he screamed, the two officers jostling him to the door, "where are you taking me?"
"Come on Maxwell, I thought you'd go out with a little more dignity than this," was the only reply.
A priest was waiting for them outside the cell.
"I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny Gardner," the young man pleaded, "I started work here this morning."
The priest walked ahead of him, muttering some archaic prayer, Kenny took no notice. Shock had seized him, he was sobbing uncontrollably.
Finally, he was led through a heavy door, and into a large room. Before him stood a well-built man, his face covered by a black hood. Next to him, on a raised platform was the tall wooden gallows, and a waiting noose.
"No, no," he cried, "you're making a mistake, I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny."
He struggled as the men dragged him forward, towards the steps.
"Please, I didn't do anything," he begged.
A black sack was thrown over his face. He was almost sick as he felt the rope going over his head and then tighten around his neck.
"Help me! Sally!" he screamed.
There was the clunk of the trapdoor opening and then...
* * * *
Kenny was back in the corridor, as white as a sheet. Arthur was walking towards him, carrying a new tray.
"Shouldn't go in there, Mr. Gardner, sir," said Arthur. "It's 'aunted, it is! Mangler Maxwell. Killed 'is wife in a jealous rage. Thought she was 'aving an affair with a prison warden."
"Really?" said Kenny, still shaking as he continued down the corridor. "Tell me about it."
He looked up at the foreboding sight of the large, grey building looming before him, it's cold, stone walls housing nearly three hundred low-security prisoners. But it hadn't always been like that. Forty years earlier, Blackwood had housed some of the most evil and depraved minds in the country; all of them sentenced to death.
Being only twenty-six years old, Kenny hadn't heard of any of the murderers and brutal thugs that were brought here to hang. Sure, he'd seen a few old newspaper clippings and heard the occasional story while he was doing his training, but they were all dead now; the worst he'd have to deal with were petty thieves and remand prisoners.
He straightened his jacket and quickly checked his identity card. It felt good to be wearing a uniform at last, he thought, especially after so many disappointments - too short for the Police, not fit enouugh for the Fire Brigade - yes, this was the start of his new life.
After a short conversation with the gateman, and one last look at his uniform, he marched towards the main building, eager to begin his first day.
* * * *
Kenny walked down the corridor towards the canteen, side by side with fellow warden, Pete Morris. Morris was to be Kenny's official guide for the next two days while he settled in and acquainted himself with the layout, and learned who to watch out for.
"So, Kenny, have you always wanted to be a prison officer?" asked Morris, with a wry smile.
"No, I just like the uniform," Kenny answered.
Morris let out a light-hearted chuckle, taking the reply as a joke, unaware that Kenny was actually being serious. Although they'd only spent one morning together, Kenny decided that he liked Morris - he was relaxed, had a good sense of humour, and most importantly, he was easy to get along with.
The canteen was virtually empty; just a handful of prisoners on kitchen duty, preparing the food and putting trays and cutlery out. In a few minutes the bell would sound and the rest of the inmates would be pouring through the door for lunch.
* * * *
By the end of lunch, Kenny had seen most of the prisoners. Morris pointed out the ones to keep an eye on and gave him a brief history on numerous others. A small, grey-haired man came toward them, carrying a tray. He was in his late sixties, wearing dark blue trousers and a light blue shirt - standard inmate issue.
"Ready now, Mr. Morris, sir!" said the old man.
"Okay, Arthur," Morris answered, "this is Officer Gardner, he'll be escorting you to solitary today."
"Solitary?" Kenny looked at Morris.
"Yeah, you should be able to handle it on your own," said Morris, "there's only Barker up there; he shouldn't be a problem now that he's sobered up."
The old man proceeded to the door, then waited patiently for his escort. After a few closing words with Morris, Kenny followed and, motioning Arthur to lead the way, left the canteen.
Solitary was several minutes away, on the other side of the building, and two floors up. Most of the cells they passed on the way were empty, with the majority of inmates either in the recreation area or the prison library.
A few minutes later, Kenny was unlocking the gate to the isolation area; solitary was just beyond. The isolation area was for prisoners who, for one reason or another, had to be kept away from the rest of the inmates - it was presently unoccupied. Kenny was just mulling over how quiet and lonely this area was, when...
CRASH!
Arthur was kneeling on the ground, the contents of the tray strewn across the floor and down his shirt.
"Sorry, Mr. Gardner, sir," he whimpered, "I slipped, it was an accident, 'onest."
Kenny gave a sigh. "Run down to the canteen quickly, before they dump the leftovers, and fetch up another tray."
"Yes sir, Mr. Gardner, sir," Arthur said, clambering to his feet.
The young officer watched as the old man hurried off back in the direction they'd just come. A sudden sound caused him to look around again.
Kenny was standing at one end of the short isolation corridor; an old, gaunt-looking man stood at the other.
"What are you doing in this area?" Kenny asked. "It's meant to be empty."
The old man said nothing, and just stared at him.
"Well? Answer me," he said more sharply.
The old man turned away and vanished around the corner.
"Hey? Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you," he shouted. "Come back here."
Kenny ran down the corridor after him, and was just in time to see the man disappear into an open cell. He thought for a moment about how he should handle this. Being a new warden, somebody was bound to try it on sooner or later, and if he was to let this pass they'd be walking all over him in no time. But, on the other hand, if he came down too hard, he'd probably get half the prisoners off side, and they'd make his life difficult anyway.
No, he thought. Unless the bloke's deaf, he'd better have a damn good reason for not answering. He came to a stop several feet from the cell door; an eerie feeling sent a shiver down his spine, warning him that something wasn't right.
Don't be such a coward, he told himself, it's just an old man, nothing to be afraid of. Stepping up to the doorway, he peered into the room.
A bed lay against the far wall, and beside it stood a small table. Along the left-hand wall rested a tall metal locker. Just your average cell, except for the absence of any personal effects, such as photographs, books, posters, and...
No prisoner.
Where'd he go, thought Kenny. He definately saw him come in here -.maybe he's behind the door, waiting to pounce.
"Okay, game over, come on out!" he spoke loudly and clearly.
Nothing.
Kenny stepped cautiously into the cell, then quickly side-stepped the door.
Getting attacked by a psycho on my first day, that's all I need, he thought, staying close to the wall. He was halfway into the room when it became obvious that there was nobody there but himself.
This is crazy, he thought, shaking his head, then his gaze fell on the locker. He walked over to it, slowly reaching out for the handle, and then quickly pulled open the door.
Empty.
Staring at the blank metal, Kenny tried to think of some rational explanation for the disappearance. He can't have vanished into thin air?
His mind was working overtime, searching for a reason when, suddenly, a shadow appeared, reflecting on the back of the locker, sending a chill through his whole body. There was somebody behind him, he could hear them breathing, feel their hot breath against his nape. He stood still for a moment - frozen - then he turned...
Nothing.
There was a quiet giggle just outside the cell. Kenny ran out into the corridor.
Nobody.
"Come on, stop messing about! The joke's over!" he called. But there was no reply.
What's going on, he thought.
The young man turned, peering once more into the cell. It was still empty, but somehow different. On the table by the bed, stood a small framed photograph. Walking back into the room, he reached down and picked it up. It was Sally, but... not Sally. She was different - her hair, her clothes - they seemed old-fashioned. This is impossible, I must be dreaming?
There came the sound of a door opening behind him. He swung around to see two burly prison officers standing in the doorway, their uniforms were similar to his own but looked a little more dated.
"Hi, I'm Kenny Gardner," he said, reaching for his identity card. His hand brushed against his pocket, but he felt nothing.
"Don't try pretending you're mad, Maxwell. It's too late to be sorry now," said one of the officers. "You killed your wife, and now it's time to pay the price."
"What?" Kenny looked down at his own attire - his uniform had gone, replaced by the two-tone, blue overall of an inmate. He looked up again as the wardens grabbed his arms, and promptly manacled his wrists.
"What's going on here?" he screamed, the two officers jostling him to the door, "where are you taking me?"
"Come on Maxwell, I thought you'd go out with a little more dignity than this," was the only reply.
A priest was waiting for them outside the cell.
"I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny Gardner," the young man pleaded, "I started work here this morning."
The priest walked ahead of him, muttering some archaic prayer, Kenny took no notice. Shock had seized him, he was sobbing uncontrollably.
Finally, he was led through a heavy door, and into a large room. Before him stood a well-built man, his face covered by a black hood. Next to him, on a raised platform was the tall wooden gallows, and a waiting noose.
"No, no," he cried, "you're making a mistake, I'm not Maxwell, I'm Kenny."
He struggled as the men dragged him forward, towards the steps.
"Please, I didn't do anything," he begged.
A black sack was thrown over his face. He was almost sick as he felt the rope going over his head and then tighten around his neck.
"Help me! Sally!" he screamed.
There was the clunk of the trapdoor opening and then...
* * * *
Kenny was back in the corridor, as white as a sheet. Arthur was walking towards him, carrying a new tray.
"Shouldn't go in there, Mr. Gardner, sir," said Arthur. "It's 'aunted, it is! Mangler Maxwell. Killed 'is wife in a jealous rage. Thought she was 'aving an affair with a prison warden."
"Really?" said Kenny, still shaking as he continued down the corridor. "Tell me about it."