Our final pieces of work have been written by prisoners who have discovered the benefits and joys of writing for pleasure.  We include poetry, prose and drama as illustrations of the creativity and passion of writing in prison.

A JOURNEY

Would you like to hear my journey?

I have so many wonderful tales,

Places I’ve been, people I’ve met,

From England to Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

I was shiny and sparkling when my journey began,

Pretty and glittery in the palm of your hand.

I never stayed long with the people I’d meet,

Popped into pockets or dropped in the street,

Bakeries, butchers, bank-vaults and bars,

Lost for months down the seat of your car.

Given to children as a treat to buy sweets,

Pitched and tossed by little boys in the street.

I have settled arguments with a head or a tail,

Travelled by air, by sea and by rail.

Placed beneath pillows, in exchange for a tooth,

Used to call loved ones from a telephone booth.

Waged on a horse in the two o’clock race,

Or hoarded away in a greedy man’s safe.

Thrown into water in exchange for a wish,

Baked in a pie in an ovenproof dish.

I’ve brought happiness, joy, anger and curses,

Been in pockets of boys and in old ladies’ purses.

Yet I never seem to be wanted for long,

They see something nice, next thing I’m gone.

I’m not so sparkling and shiny today,

My face is worn and a lack-lustre grey.

We’ve probably met, but you won’t remember me,

I’m just your average fifty P!

SMACK THE SMACK

This is an extract from a play.  It is a conversation between Paul who is a reformed drug addict and Billy who is addicted to heroin.

PAUL:             Well, I’m telling you, Billy, I was in a bad way.  With my father dead, I had decided to turn to my mother for help, even though I hadn’t spoken to, or even called her, for some years.  So, instead of phoning her, I had decided just to call round to the house in the hope of getting some money from her.

BILLY:            You must have been desperate to go and face your mother after such a long time apart.

PAUL:             Desperate maybe - scared definitely.  I wasn’t sure how she’d react; you know, the prodigal son returning and all that.

BILLY:            Yeh, I know what you mean.

PAUL:             But that was the biggest mistake I ever made.  When I think back I now wish I’d phoned first, but, well, you know when you’re on smack you don’t think, you act first then worry about the rest later, which is exactly what I had done.  The day in question, well, I hadn’t had a hit in about six hours and the cravings were just starting to kick in.  So anyway, I just landed in my mother’s street, and it must have taken what felt like an hour standing outside trying to build up the courage to go and just knock on the door.  In reality it was probably only ten or fifteen minutes.  I knocked on the door, but no answer.  I knocked again, only this time even harder, but still no answer.  By this time the cravings had got worse, so I went round to the gate at the side of the house which led into the back garden.  I found the kitchen window open.

BILLY:            Tell me you didn’t rob your mum’s house, did you?

PAUL:             Please, Billy, let me finish; it’s hard enough as it is.

BILLY:            Sorry, mate, go on then.

PAUL:             Well, seeing the window open I went inside the house.  I had called out my mum’s name several times, still no answer.  After walking around the kitchen and then into the living room, I headed for the stairs and went up to the bedrooms.  That’s when I found my mum.

BILLY:            What?  Sleeping?

PAUL:             No, mate, she was dead, and by the look of her, she was probably dead a day or two.

BILLY:            Jesus, Paul, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean….

PAUL:             It’s OK, you weren’t to know.

BILLY:            Yeh!  But…

PAUL:             No honestly, Billy, just let it go mate.  But what I should’ve done next was to go straight downstairs and phone the police or an ambulance even.  But no, the cravings and the smack were in overdrive by now; I searched the house for whatever money there was.

BILLY:            Jesus, you didn’t!

PAUL:             I took all the money and jewellery I could find and left her.  I left her just lying there on her own, no one with her, no one praying for her, not even when I left did I phone the police.  I was scared I would’ve been arrested for robbing my dead mother.

BILLY:            I don’t care what anyone says, that’s the lowest of the low.  How could you?  How could you leave her there just like that?  Jesus Paul, that’s unforgivable, even by a smack head’s standards.

PAUL:             I know, I know, I just couldn’t help myself, the cravings were too strong.  I had lost all sense of emotion and self-control, my only thoughts were to get to a dealer for a fix, that was my only concern.  And no matter what you or anyone else says, it will not make me feel any worse than I already do.  Every night when I go to bed I see her just lying there, helpless, and the same every morning when I wake up.  I have those images every day of my life and they will stay with me until I die.  That’s the scars I have to bear for the rest of my life.

BILLY:            What happened your mum?

PAUL:             Well, about a week after it all happened, I was picked up by the police for an unpaid fine I had got shoplifting.  When they were processing me in the station an eagle-eyed cop heard my name, and, after checking me out, he informed me of my mother’s death, and how she had lain alone in her bed, dead for five days before a neighbour raised the alarm and phoned the police.

BILLY:            And did they charge you with the robbery?

PAUL:             No, they didn’t even mention it.  But what they did mention was that my mother’s belongings were put in storage for safe keeping and that her house was in the hands of a local firm of solicitors called Baxter Devlin, which just happened to be the firm that I had worked for and walked out on a couple of years previously.  So, after being released and bailed to appear before the courts on the fine charge, I contacted my old boss about the sale of the house.

BILLY:            Jesus, after everything that had happened between you and your mother, all you could think about was the money!

PAUL:             Right again.  That was all I thought about.  I was still a smack head and all I lived for was smack.  It was the only thing that occupied my mind every single waking moment of my life.  The only important thing was where I could score and how much I could get.

BILLY:            I can relate to that part, but the other stuff, Paul…

PAUL:             Well, that’s what heroin did to me, and if you keep on it, you’ll turn out the same.  Maybe not as bad as me or some of the things I’ve done, but you know that if you’re honest with yourself, once the cravings come you’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to feed them, to get that high.  Now, be honest, you’ve been there and you know that each time the cravings come, they come harder and faster than before.

BILLY:            Fair enough, mate, but what happened to the house?

PAUL:             Well, after contacting my old boss at Baxter Devlin, the house was sold very quickly.  After the legal costs and paying off the rest of the mortgage I was left with thirty-five thousand pounds.

BILLY:            Yeh, thirty-five grand of blood money.

PAUL:             That may be right, but at the time I didn’t care.  My only purpose in life then was heroin; that’s all I ever cared about.

BILLY:            What about your wife and kid?

PAUL:             What about them?

BILLY:            Well, did you give them anything out of your thirty-five grand?

PAUL:             Not a penny, and I’m ashamed to say I never gave them so much as a thought.  But now I wish I had.

BILLY:            That’s easy for you to say now.

PAUL:             I know it is, mate, but that was me back then, the smack head  who  didn’t give a damn, not only about others but himself also.

BILLY:            So what did you end up doing with the money you got?

PAUL:             Well, as they say, revenge is sweet.