Issue Three

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CONFESSION by .A. GARRISON CONFESSION by A.A. GARRISON
Jackie squatted in the prison yard, drawing symbols in the dust. He was gripping a stick between his thumb and forefinger, gently laying down circles and ciphers and codes. They'd become an endless spiral, swirling out from his feet. Sometimes he'd dig the stick deep into the dirt, gouging up little spits of earth. More often, he'd tap and tuck and tease until the fine details emerged. He'd been drawing for nearly an hour, squatting on his haunches, the pain in his hips long forgotten. His tongue was sticking ever so slightly out of the left corner of his mouth, a little pink exclamation point on his dark skin. His chin jutted out, and he peered down at the symbols from under his glasses. Every so often, he'd slowly raise a dirtcaked finger and push them further up his nose, never taking his eyes from his work. This was good news for the man walking towards him. The other guys in the cell had named the man Ratbucket; he still didn't know why. He didn't question what the other guys in the cell said. When they told him that if he wanted to stay alive, he had to prove himself, he just nodded. And when they said that to prove himself, he had to kill another prisoner, he'd nodded again. As far as Ratbucket was concerned, if you nodded at everything they said to you in prison, you got along just fine. The problem, of course, was that he'd never actually killed anyone. He'd told the others he was in on a murder charge, even before he could stop himself, and they'd laughed and said that in that case, he'd have no trouble with the job. But as he approached the hunched figure doodling in the dust, he felt cold prickles on his spine that had nothing to do with the wind sweeping down from the Adirondack Mountains. The toothbrush was in his hand. The head of the gang – a big sucker with one frozen eye named Marlin – had given it to him. It had been melted and filed and melted and filed again until it was a thin spike. Ratbucket held it cupped in his palm, with the spike lying along the inside of his wrist, his hand turned to keep it hidden from the screws. Sweat ran down his fingers, pooling in his palm. He could feel Marlin's eyes on him from the other side of the yard. He could feel all their eyes on him. Nobody would miss Jackie, he told himself. He'd only been in here a day. Ratbucket had seen him come in yesterday, and the
Page 1: Issue Three JUNE 2013 Volume 1, Iss
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Page 39 and 40: more companions to join him in his
Page 41 and 42: Jackie squatted in the prison yard,
Page 43: A guard in the tower had taken aim.
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Boy placed the rabbit in the center
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to let go but Boy easily backhanded
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