The Glass Window – First Place Non-fiction Alexandria Detention Center Writing Contest August 2019

by | Sep 25, 2019 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests, Non-fiction

The Glass Window
By Michael P.

First place winner, Non-fiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August 2019

That Glass Window! If it’s clear enough, you can find your reflection. Find out who truly are. Most windows are not that clean however. Smudges, smears, fingerprints and other additional obstructions can obscure what is seemingly definite on the other side. Me and the Glass Window are like friends and enemies. A gift and a curse. Heck, we are almost like a married couple. Sometimes I am happy to be in it’s presence, to get closer to it, identify with it and other times I dread what it does to me. It taunts me, mocks me yet soothes and consoles me all at once.

More than anything else, it’s consistency reveals to me pure unadulterated truth. What a mystical concept…… I’ve noticed some people avoid it or confront it very little in their lives. They know it’s daunting power and decide that it is overwhelming or simply irrelevant. I, however, have realized that in order to grow mentally, I must alter my perception, take a seat and do what must be done. I have to look through that window.

As I sit in my small space cut off from the rest of the world, I reminice two years back, when the world, my world, was a much bigger place. My little girls are sliding down the steps backwards, belly first, laughing at the the top of their little vocal cords. “DON’T YOU DARE DO THAT AGAIN before you and Ari hurt yourselves,” their mother yells. Aly rushes up the stairs quickly, followed aimlessly by Ariyah who doesn’t know any better or simply trumps fun over risk.

The warning goes in one tiny ear and out of the other like a car with no brakes. As they both decide to defy good natured parenting and began the second round of “Fatal Stairs”, I stop them. “Listen to your mom Aly. You are five and need to be setting an example to your little sister. Be a leader,” I explain. “How about you get dressed and we go outside.” Her brown eyes squint and I can tell she wants to challenge me, but she quickly runs into her room, sister trailing close behind, laughing and screaming, “YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”

Outside, spite the sun sitting directly overhead like a spotlight on the lead stage actor, it feels just right. My two little ladies, my 2 year old in my arms while the other speed pedals on her bicycle down the block. They two caramel frappaccinos with deep brown pecan eyes and enough energy to fuel a small atv. I would say that they look like their mother but I’d be lying. Everyone believes I somehow defeated the natural mating system, pulled chromosomes from my DNA solely, placed them in a complex generating machine and viola, two mini-me’s created. But I am here to tell you, I definitely had their mother’s help.

I divert back to present day. Back to me, these walls and of course, this Glass Window. As I look out of this window at an expanse open territory, I wonder where I fit in. I am a splash of paint on the world’s canvas. In order for me to make a difference, in order for there to be change, I must grasp the concept, that one step begins with me. When you are locked away from society, in order to truly reform, you must ask yourself……

Why? Why am I here? What have I done to deserve this? Where is my next destination? When will I realize this is not the way and lastly, who am I to become? I once heard on “Bruce Almighty” Morgan Freeman spoke to Jim Carry about his careless actions and stated, “It takes a boy to make a mess, but a man to clean it up.” The simplicity in that statement is truly complex in many ways. It did wonders to my intellect.

For the longest time my windows in life were tinted, dirty, or covered with dark drapes that allowed no light in whatsoever. The world was simpler I felt. Nothing in nothing out. I was a prominent Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles except without glasses and the extraordinary fervent talent to play the piano. That at least would’ve changed my status of “splash of paint” to a “colorful collage of art” on the world’s canvas but No, a “splash of paint” I remained.

It took blue and red lights, a badge, and a robe to open my shutters wide. For some it takes less, for others that is only an appetizer. For me, it was like being brought out of the womb again, in a room full of lights and promise, in hopes that you will soon be reconnecting with that familiar warmth, only this time you can now actually see.

This window from where I sit on the fourth floor of this building offers an insightful frame of progress and rebuilding. The cars on the highway offer a steady stream of progression, even in congestion, as long as they are moving forward, there are no crashes. Homes represent, comfortability, being foundated, knowing oneself and finding a ground to establish a foothold.

Alas the construction. Decomposing and building anew. Reforming, rehabilitation, and of course renewing oneself. This window shows me my deepest desires, yet it plays on my worst fears. Failure, rejection, and ultimately my weakness. I think back once again to my 5-year-old daughter being tucked in at night before going to sleep.

As she sobs and begs for me to stay in her room with her, I whisper, “Listen love, I got you something.”

She gives me a weary look, her big eyes filled with tears and asks, “what is it Daddy?”

“I got you a night light that will keep you safe from all of monsters and will always protect you,” I say. I pull the white owl shaped glow light from behind my back and place it in her arms.

She looks amazed but with a trembling voice she asks, “What is his name?”

“That is the thing baby” I began “He needs you to name him and hold him close, what do you think will be a good fit?”

“Blessy!” she says excitedly.

“Blessy…… I like it.” I say, “you and Blessy rest easy and don’t keep him too close to your eyes sweetheart.” Goodnight Aly, goodnight Blessy.”

I kiss her forehead and as I head for the door, she asks, “Daddy, do you know why I named him Blessy?”

“No sweetheart, “Why’s that,” I counter back.

“Because God is protecting me at night and this owl is like an angel. A blessing. He’s my Blessy,” she says.

My eyes tear up as I suddenly realize a five year old just taught me what faith truly means.

As I find myself aware that I am in my cell, back to reality, I prepare for my encounter with The Glass Window. I brush my teeth, put on my jumpsuit, straight the collar, and went patiently for this anticipated moment. As the visitation door pops open, my anxiety grows like a shadow does from the rising sun.

Suddenly I see a familiar face, although this face is accompanied with many changes. She’s almost a foot taller, hair longer, slim and wearing a blue sundress with miniature flowers all over it. When she sees me, her face lights up like the 4th of July Fireworks on a starry night and my heart instantly skips a beat. She’s beautiful to say the least. I pick up the phone and dial in my pin. She picks up on the other side of the glass window.

After about 10 seconds, her voice booms through the receiver, “Daddy, I miss you!”

She’s seven now and I cannot believe that it’s been two years since I last tucked her in at night. We speak about school, her favorite shows, her amazing friends, her brother and sister and many other new and exciting things that I’ve missed. She is like a pouring waterfall that’s never ending. I gaze at her wonderful toothless grin and laugh. She is blooming beautifully and my heart aches to hold her.

That Glass Window is in my way.

Blocking me from physical connection, us as humans desire wholeheartedly. I want to break it, run to her, promise I will be home soon, kiss her bubbly cheeks, but I know the repercussions. That glass window gives me a peak into freedom. An appetizer; bird food to a tiger which is ultimately no real satisfaction. It is just enough to tease into wanting more.

I focus on her eyes, her personality, and her new attitude. My baby has grown up into a little young lady.

At this precise moment I know what my aspirations are. I understand that this window has shown me what I from gaining if I continue down a destructive path. This is my revelation, walking through Dante’s Inferno in search of retribution.

I approach my metaphorical glass window with Windex and determination and begin to wipe away the doubt, the fears, the debris that has blocked my view from seeing what is truly important. As the visit ends and my daughter begins to leave, she rushes back and places her head on the Glass Window. I do the same. I feel perplexed, electrified and accelerated as our souls connect.

We say our “I love yous” and goodbyes and at that very moment, I know we will be okay.

Inspired by and dedicated to my three children. Aliyana, Ariyanh, and Alijah Pixley. I strive to be a better for them daily and pray I return to them soon.

The Lonely Giraffe – Second Place Fiction Alexandria Detention Center Writing Contest August 2019

by | Sep 22, 2019 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests

The Lonely Giraffe
Brenden H.

Second place winner, Fiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August, 2019

Once upon a time there was a lonely giraffe named Phillip. He lived in a small rural zoo located in Colorado. His habitat was nice enough and he had all he needed but, he was lonely nonetheless.

Everyday, families from all over would come to the zoo and visit Phillip. He enjoyed the company of the people but, he envied them as well. He longed to be with his family, who at this point he could hardly remember. He was but a young calf when he was taken from his family at another zoo. Phillip knew his father – Liam the Giraffe – would come and rescue him. It was only a matter of time.

Liam had done it. He finally located his son at a small rural zoo in Colorado. It had taken him 5 days and a lot of detective work but he found his boy. That was one thing this small zoo didn’t know – the power of Love.

The papa giraffe set up a base camp outside of the zoo. He spent the next two days watching the workers and learning their schedules. He was almost ready to save his son.

Phillip was awaiting his salvation. A messenger bird from his father’s zoo had flown to Colorado and relayed the message of his incoming rescue. He was nervous but very excited. He prepared for his escape by doing a lot of squats.

Liam was ready. His plan was simple. Rescue his son by any means necessary. The adult giraffe dismantled his base camp and headed to the backside of the zoo. Phillip’s habitat was in the back and there were only two fences between him and his boy. It was after normal operating hours. Perfect time for the rescue.

The perimeter fence surrounding the zoo was no match for Liam’s powerful hooves. He trampled it flat and ran for his young one. Spotting Phillips exhibit, he crouched behind a small restroom building for humans. Peering over the roof, he saw his son. Seeing his youngster filled him with the strength he needed to rescue Phillip.

Liam executed his plan. Climbing atop the restrooms, he had a perfect angle into the habitat. He jumped landing in the exhibit with Phillip. They didn’t have long before zookeepers would come investigate. They hugged with the necks for a moment, then Liam motioned toward the exhibit fence.

“Davai, Davai!” yelled Liam. Davia means “come on” in Russian. They were Russian giraffes.

The two giraffes slammed into the fence and flattened it with ease. They were out of the zoo property in no time. They lived in the Colorado landscapes til the end of their days. Happily ever after.