"21226"
/As i research deep in the wright-hall library of Morgan University, i can feel my eyelids, heavy with the weight of sleep, slowly closing. A dark windowless room, made up of tall wooden shelves, strong fluorescent lights and a light taste of dust in the air. The ticking sounds of a clock on the white patchy wall and my thumping heart beat are the only sounds I hear, like a lullaby, lulling me closer to sleep.
“Wake up young man, wake up”
I jump up, startled and disoriented from the brightness of the lights. It felt like I had only closed my eyes for a second. How long had I been asleep for, I wondered.
“Thank You”, I reply quickly, turning to see who had woken me up. The man responsible, standing completely still, stood enshrouded in shadow, between two bookshelves. Why was he standing between the shelves, and not The walkway?
“What time is it”, i ask, squinting to make out more of the man hidden in shadow.
“4:30,4:32 am to be exact”, the man responds in a deep baritone. I pause waiting to here more, only to hear complete silence in return.
Geez... this guy doesn’t talk much, I sigh stacking the notebooks, and other mess on the table. I hadn’t even gotten 50% close to finishing up the work I needed to finish. Shoving everything into my bag I reach the walk way entrance. I can feel the man’s presence behind me suddenly, waiting to escort me out, as I move forward.
I hadn’t even felt him move.
“What are you doing here so late, young man, if i may ask?”,
“Research on a prison story for my film class”, i respond, finally getting a better and closer look at the man.
“Things have surely changed from when i went to school...They wouldn’t have allowed us back then to choose a topic like yours”, he chuckles as we walk side by side.
I can see scars all across the arms, face, and neck of the man's rough leathery skin.
“How’d you get those scars?” The question is out of my mouth as soon as it touches my mind. I’ve always had a problem of speaking before I think and being to nosy.
With an almost unnoticeable pause in his gait, the man smiles slightly, as we continue to walk
“You film majors sure are straightforward aren’t you” he deflects mockingly. “Battle scars...that’s what they are.”
“Which war were you in”?
“No war, i used to be a Correctional Officer back in my day.”
Correctional officer? How does a correctional officer get so many scars, i wonder.
“ Any good stories” i ask eagerly, trying to prod the man into further conversation. There's definitely a good story here somewhere.
He looks up at me and chuckles, “Good stories ? As a correctional officer, he ask ?
“No, i do not.”
“Which prison did you work in?” We’re almost near the entrance now, and my curiosity is getting the best of me.
“Mississippi State Penitentiary”.
I can’t tell if I’m being a complete nuisance as the man's face is almost expressionless as we walk in a steady gait. I wonder if correction officers are trained to hide their emotions from prisoners and keep their faces so blank. He doesn’t seem bothered, I think.
“I have a question... actually since i was researching Mississippi State Prison.” “ Have you ever hear about a prisoner named Waller G. Payton?”
As i look at him, i can see sadness slowly work it’s way through his face. A deep silence engulfs the exit of the library and the man finally comes to a stop. I turn to fully face him, finally getting a clearer view of the man before me. Sand colored hair sprinkled with a flurry of white patches set in a hard ivory face with deep, deep black eyes. The man averts his gaze as my instincts scream that I have touched a nerve. Their is definitely a story here. Could it be possible that he knew Waller G. Payton? What are the odds?
Frozen in place the man's eyes seem listless as a myriad of emotions flicker across a once blank face.
Do you, I start to ask and the man immediately recoils.
“Be safe, young man... Safe walk back to your dorm” , He whispers briskly and walks away.
“Sir, do you know him” i shout, as he waves and gets farther and farther inside the library finally disappearing from view.
“He must know something...I wonder irritatingly why I haven’t been able to find him as i wipe my hands on my pants & head out of the bathroom. He might be the key to finishing off the remaining parts of my of my paper. I carelessly push open the bathroom door and can hear that I have hit someone. “ OH MY...I’m so sorry” I say in shock.
“ What is wrong with you,” a female voice yells back. I can hear helping herself up from the floor.
“I’m so sorry, I whisper back.” They should really install these bathroom doors so they Open inward instead of outward. i pick up a Elisabeth Mansfield’s History of Modern Art and automatically know who i’ve hit. I cringe, “ I’m so sorry, Tania”.
“How do you...oh...it’s you,” she replies in an irritated tone.
Tania is an old friend i use to cuddle with and her hatred for me is beyond imaginable. “Why did it have to be her of all people,” i think to myself, trying to see how I can remove myself from this situation with minimal injuries to my person.
“What are you doing here” she ask quietly breaking the silence once again.
What am I doing in a bathroom, what kind of question is that I think to myself. Small talk is always awkward and before I know it my mouth is moving before my mind can even filter what I’ll say.
“Tania...do you know this janitor covered in scars,” i ask quickly. I hear a long pause before she finally answers.
“Oh yes...He’s a groundskeeper... You can find him, most likely, at the HC building behind Wright-Hall.”
“ Great...Thanks... Another long pause stretches the seconds and makes it feel like a minute has passed. Are you ok,” i ask as I step over here to escape. Any physical contact on my part might cause a negative reaction. It’s better to be safer then sorry, I think.
“ Yes...I’m fine,” she says interrupting my thoughts..
”Sorry again,” i yell as i begin to sprint. Better to get out of their before things turn Left. With Tania you never no when things will turn left.
I gasp for air, hunched over, hands on my knees trying to suck in as much air as possible. I silently laugh at myself. Did the sight of Tania cause me to race the HC building running within an inch of my life. Sighing… what I had done to her, I could understand why she hated me.
With little strength left I raise my hand, knuckles facing the door ready to knock. Luckily the man opens the door.
” Hello sir, my name is Jerome Fintz, we met last night.”
“I remember you,” he responds as he stares at me expectantly
i just need a few minutes of your time.” i state holding on to the door post finally gaining control of my breathing.
“ What exactly do you want young man, don’t you have better things to do?”
“Hear me out at least.” I pleaded.
“ You want to know about that man” he asks sternly.
“ Yes! ” “Does this man truly know Waller G Payton,” i wonder.
“Don’t you have chocolates or flowers to buy someone today?” “Better yet, any lady friend to meet up with?”, He asks while welcoming me inside leaving the door open.”
“Tell me about Waller G. Payton” I ask politely as the walks towards the windows in the small room and open the blinds. I wait silently for his response while completely dismissing his comments on me being alone on valentines’ day.
Even with the blinds open the room is dark and empty like the library room he found me asleep in. Bare, with paint peels littering the floor, with no furniture that would tip off a guest that someone lived their. Their stood one wooden chair in the center of the room. Where did he sleep I quietly wondered.
“We never called them by their names, we referred to them by numbers”, he continues. “He was prisoner 21266.”
“Please sit young man,” the man motioned to the one chair in the room, while his eyes gazed at something beyond the window in front of him.
“Why was he in prison?” I ask shifting myself onto the chair as it creaks beneath my weight.
“Even being imprisoned for the murder of his wife and children. He was a calm and quiet guy. Everyone were confined in their 6 by 4 for 23 hrs and on the yard for the hour. Prisoner 21266, either due to his crime or the amount of time spent in solitary confinement was a strange inmate. He would stay inside his cell seated, legs crossed, hands on chest, eyes fixated on the pasty blue wall, smiling.” he continued.
“Did you say smiling?!” I ask shocked.
Puckering his lips and nods in agreement.
“He would sit there day in and day out smiling at the empty wall. Prisoner 21266, was not talkative but his daydream kept him away from the madness of prison and made him the ideal convict.”
“Do you know what he was smiling about?”
“No one truly knows what he could’ve possibly been smiling about. Not even the prisons doctors. That didn’t stop some of us from inventing stories, the man muttered sadly. Truth be told, i hoped that he dreamt of his family. I hope back then that dreaming of them helped him escape. Whatever he thought of in that mind of his that made him smile, I guess you can say it made him happy.
“Why would a child and woman murderer dream of such things?”
“It was in the 30’s. Being a man of color in itself was a crime.”
The man sighed not moving away from his position near the window.
“I was fairly new at the time and coming on my 2nd year at that place. Our jobs weren’t to know who was innocent or guilty. We were never to entertain the idea that they could be wrongfully accused. We were there to police and sometimes as harshly as possible. Horrid place.”
“Why did you show sadness and shame when i asked you about him back in the library?”
The atmosphere suddenly turned tense. Or maybe it was because i had noticed the mans back had quickly tensed up. I could see it bothered him to think of it. Turning to face me the man shifted his gaze to stare down at the floor while interlocking his fingers
“Around the same time, the government sent full force of the police hell bent on ridden the East coast of alcohol and bootleggers. And with that, came more, younger, and wilder inmates. The warden had ordered us to move the more peaceful and older inmates to the G wing, including prisoner 21266. I truly was happy for the transfer to the wing.
“The G wing was naturally darker since it was initially created for solitary confinement and subterranean. We would hear screaming out of prisoner 21266, “ i cannot see them” “No.. i need light, i need to see them” “please, help me see them” “why can’t i see them”.
“We would go and bang on his cell door and command him to stop the racket. He would cry himself to sleep most nights and the cycle would continue. Days, weeks, months went by and it felt that prisoner 21226 was calming down. Possibly accepting his new fate.”
“ Until, one day... as I was coming back From my smoke break. I heard the commotion and i ran back to the control tower. The inmates were going crazy and the energy felt dark...sinister. A cracking sound so loud followed by a scream that silenced the entire wing. Shaken with fear, i can sense the hairs on my back pulling as if they were warning me to stay away. I froze but i knew i must go to that cell. I grab the keys and ran toward it… so i thought. I was too afraid to run but my heart kept racing and feet were dragging… hyperventilating with cold sweats overtook me...i was useless.”
“ The closer i got the stronger the pressure, the higher the sense of danger grew. As i got to the gate, i heard it, a laughter that took any hope i had left, a powerful voice said ever so gently, “i can see it all now, thank you.” I tried to open the door but i could not, my hands shaking and the sweat dripping into my eyes made it even more impossible. The captain snatched the keys out my hands and opened the cell door. Hesitant…he then rushed in. And i saw it all, emptiness where eyes used to be yet bright with blood and a smile on his face, blood dripping in his mouth. “Finally, i can see it all.” Prisoner 21226 gasped out in relief.”
The man straightens his stance and takes a few deep breaths. With his back he pushes himself off the window sill and walks towards what I can only guess as the kitchen area. The man then adds on, “ I woke up at the infirmary a few minutes later.”
“What did you do next?”
“I handed in my uniform, and i’ve been a groundskeeper ever since.”
“Do you know why he said thank you?” I add while I continue to write for every detail would bring this project to life.
The groundskeeper shrugs and says “no” but he knew exactly why.
As the captain open the cell doors and he could see a shadow vanish and a cold air pressed against his body. “ No, I thank you!”, the voice whispers directly into his ears
“Do you know what happened to prisoner 21266?”
“No and i’m better off for that.” He quickly prompts, “want some water?” as he begin to serve himself a glass.
“no… I’m fine thanks.” I begin to put away my things and felt a slight chill in this hot day.
I’m sorry. I never got your name” I question turning back towards the man and reaching out my hand.
“You can call me Gray”
“Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Gray! I finish packing up my things with eagerness to begin this project and sense of wonder of what to make of this story. Mr. Gray had given me a better story than expected, however, I couldn’t stop feeling that there were more to this story or possibly more to him. I could feel my gut screaming to not pry and slight sense of worry kept looming over me.
“ Thank You for the information…” i saying walking to the exit door in a wobbling gait.
“No, I thank you...And uh... goodluck on the assignment. ”
The End!!!!