Memior Assignment: "filler page"

“filler page” – Anticipation

As the officer led us down a long, dark corridor, past offices and the whites’ only bathrooms, we finally reached the end of the hallway. This winding journey was far from over as we hiked up three steel stairs, then we came across a landing, with one last sharp turn, leading up to a massive steel door. As we approached the door, anticipation built because this area housed many of the quarantined prisoners. Half of the cells were empty, while some housed one or two prisoners. The expression on many of their faces was of pure amazement because apparently they had not seen anyone from outside of the walls of the prison in a long time.

Jefferson’s cell was three floors above this one; however, the officer told us he needed to make a quick stop on this level first. As we stood waiting for him to return, I noticed a boy staring at me. He was probably a little younger than Jefferson, but I approached him to find out more about him.

“What is your name?” said Grant
“My name is Greg, sir”
“What are you in here for?”
“Armed robbery, … well so they claim. You know the funny part is that I wasn’t anyways near that convenience store on the night of June third. In fact, I had just returned for the summer break after a long school year at Tuskegee University. Man, I knew I shouldn’t have ever returned to the plantation.”

“Has your family come to visit you, yet?” I asked him. But he soon became quite as he looked toward the stained and dirty floor, in shame. I immediately knew from his expression that the answer was no, but I still questioned why. If he was innocent and obviously well educated, why wouldn’t they want to visit him?

“No, sir, they have not been here. It is just too difficult for my aunt to see me in such a horrible and dishonorable place; especially after all of the hard work she invested into my future. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, but you should let that boy Jefferson know, he sure is lucky. I only wish I could see my family and eat a hot, buttery, homemade meal.

“Well good luck Greg,” I said, just as Miss Emma was about to ascend on another mile-like journey to Jefferson’s cell and I began to wonder if Jefferson anticipated our visit, just as Greg had been longing to see a familiar face.