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Hi Team,
Recently I was in the holding cells of the Sydney Downing Centre Courts waiting for a decision from my jury who were deliberating for the 4th day.
I had a copy of About Time Issue 1 to read, so, with plenty of time to fill, I decided to try one of the Creative Writing Exercises – Suggestion 1 – all the action takes place in one defined space, indoors or outdoors. I chose an outdoor bus shelter (see below).
On the 5th day of deliberations, I’m pleased to tell you the jury returned Not Guilty verdicts for 5 out of 6 serious counts and Guilty on 1 alternate count of Common Assault. I was bailed immediately as I had already served more than enough time for that type of charge. Cheers to everyone in Sector 4, Y1/B Pod at Nowra.
Regards,
Darren
Icy fingers clawed the nape of the old man’s neck as swirling wind whipped up dust and debris into Jack’s tired weathered face. Eyes stinging and watery, rubbed red and raw from repeated assaults of city detritus, Jack pulled the collar of his threadbare Vinnie’s coat tight against the onslaught. He huddled as best he could into a corner of the open-fronted bus shelter. It provided little by means of any real protection from the storm, nevertheless it proved a vast improvement on the rotting park bench from which he’d awakened on that awful Godforsaken day. Incessant gnawing hunger, his throat painfully parched, Jack found himself fondly reminiscing on the warm bed and full belly of a recent stint in jail. “Better that than this miserable existence?” he pondered. What petty crime might reward him with shelter and three meals a day to see him through the Winter? ’twas a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Icy fingers clawed the nape of the old man’s neck as swirling wind whipped up dust and debris into Jack’s tired weathered face. Eyes stinging and watery, rubbed red and raw from repeated assaults of city detritus, Jack pulled the collar of his threadbare Vinnie’s coat tight against the onslaught. He huddled as best he could into a corner of the open-fronted bus shelter. It provided little by means of any real protection from the storm, nevertheless it proved a vast improvement on the rotting park bench from which he’d awakened on that awful Godforsaken day. Incessant gnawing hunger, his throat painfully parched, Jack found himself fondly reminiscing on the warm bed and full belly of a recent stint in jail. “Better that than this miserable existence?” he pondered. What petty crime might reward him with shelter and three meals a day to see him through the Winter? ’twas a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart. The day they put me in prison, my whole world fell apart.
Lights on, doors slam, go running to the phone. Dial the number hit the hash, and wonder if they're home. Spend the first minute saying hello, fight to say a word. Tell them that you love them and hope that you are heard.
It's about time, I outline, the walls we're within. No doubts fly, no routes fine, the way I'm living.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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