Prison gate asked me to write a 200-word story as fast as I possibly can.

"You see that gate over there?"

"Yeah," the young con said, "I see it."

"It's all that stands between you and the outside."

The old guard nodded a couple of times. The razor wire usually did for the most of them, but some… Some ended up on the spikes.

He smiled sadly.

"Depending on your mood on any given day," the guard continued, "you may fancy your chances with the gate. You may get it into that shitty, little con brain of yours to take a run at it. Chances are you're thinking about it right now."

The con looked at the ground, kicked at the dust. He was thinking about it.

He was thinking hard.

He’d heard tell of how the others had run at the gate, using their momentum to climb, scrabbling over the wire and spikes; blood-stained barbs, brutal points.

With the right speed and launch, though, it might be possible to leap over the gate – a last ditch high jump if ever there had been one.

He looked at the guard, who wondered about the wild gleam in this boy’s eyes.

“I reckon you’d have to go as fast as you possibly can, though…” he said.

[200 words]

Powered by Plinky