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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 08/17/2022
Escaping
Born 1947, M, from Germantown/Ohio, United StatesThe plan was magnificent. It was subject to constant scrutiny and revision by it’s long-experienced author ….. me.
Invisibility was tantamount. Render yourself unnoticeable. Reject inmate and guard conflicts. Be neutral to guards. Too much complimentary attention could arouse suspicion and make you visible. Don’t volunteer for or seek out prison jobs. Although those jobs provide opportunity, they plant you on the dangerous prison and guard radar, a place to avoid at all expense. Does it make your escape harder? Yes, but it makes it more possible.
Next was keeping a keen eye, a quiet, invisible eye. Looking, watching, detecting flaws, openings, opportunities. What are the guards habits and schedules? Where are their gaps or insufficiencies in wall guard coverage and camera coverage? When were the gates regularly opened to accept new prisoners, visitors, deliveries of supplies. Were their peak times for visitors to distract the guards?
You must know these things and many other things by accurate, instant recall. These elements are required to work as a finely tuned orchestra, playing together as one with no missed notes to a crescendo of escape, my escape.
I was able to make notes on toilet paper and hide them in nooks and crannies in my cell and clothing. The information was too extensive to keep in my head, a head now over 67 years tenured with 35 years of incarnation. The possibility of early release, parole, pardon were that of the likelihood of Scarlett Johansson suddenly popping by for a conjugal visit ….. although I held all those “possibilities” open, but just as fantasy.
There is an old Army saying, “keep it simple stupid.” The plan begged for simplicity since complexity invites error and error was unacceptable. A single error would be fatal to the cause, my cause, my escape. Simplicity required there being no inmate accomplice. An accomplice who could make mistakes, change their mind, spill the plan to other inmates or guards. This was my escape; it was all on me and nobody else.
I fantasized removing myself from this thirty-five-year torture of incarceration. What if I were to just touch and smell a tree? Could I experience the scents and sounds relaxing by a quiet lake? Could I behold the majesty of a mountain top view? Would my friends still be alive, could I even recognize them? My wife had passed seven years ago, but she had already relieved me from her tortured mind. My children seemed to reluctantly visit the first five years, wrote for the next two, but not a visit or a letter for now twenty-eight years. But never a visit or a letter from my daughter who had abandoned me very early on. What would my family do? What would be their reaction were I to arrive at their door?
I imagined my welcome home party. Banners, music, presents, laughter, great catchup conversations abounding. “Great to see you again dad!” ringing out from all three of them. But that would all likely be filed under early release, parole, pardon ….. and the tragically unlikely Johansson visit.
But what would really transpire at this unlikely gathering? Predictably reactive shock, dismay, rejection, locking the front door, and calling the police? Afterall, I was incarcerated for murder, the murder of my daughter’s boyfriend. She was only fourteen at the time and had come under the control of a nineteen-year-old drug dealer. I could not bear to see her life deteriorate to abject meaninglessness. She could not possibly understand what was in store for her life and someone needed to intervene. I fancied what I did was right, others I’m sure determined it misguided and wrong. But a judge, Jury and the law determined it was illegal. Illegal was all that counted.
So, here I am, for the last thirty-five years with my entire life obligated. Here, languishing in routine misery and repetitive discomfort. Could there be anything worse that could happen? What was there to additionally distain? Was there any loss to experience with an escape? Could there even be a downside to its failure? So, it was an escape that occupied my mind and actions.
I mentioned simplicity and the plan was simple. My best escape window would be the weekend of Christmas. The holiday season taxes the staff of the prison with a high volume of visitors that need to be shepherded and packages to be examined and verified. The guards were likely off balance, and many would abandon their stations tending to visitors and checking packages. The prison was experiencing staffing shortages, like the rest of the world, and was short-staffed with guards, maintenance, cleaning, and many other necessary positions.
There was a key resource that could open my door to escape success. I had talked for years with a delivery man for sheets and towels to the prison. We talked very infrequently since it needed to be when guards were distracted which was, sadly for the prison, frequently. But over those infrequent talks for years we had grown a common bond from our common experiences. He was an ex-con who had a son destroyed by drugs and a drug dealer. He was one of the people who understood my situation and respected what I did, even though it was illegal. We had a relationship of rapport and trust. He stood alone among everyone I had met that could be trusted and truly want to help me.
His schedule had him coming for his delivery of sheets and towels on Christmas Eve. This was the peak of distraction for the prison staff with Christmas preparation, visitation, and confusion. He made sure to deliver during the lunch period of the prison when I would be out of my cell. The plan was simple. With all the confusion I could join him in the delivery room. The delivery room door was locked from the inside not allowing inmate access. The prison never conceived that a person in the delivery room would expose themselves to inmates by unlocking the door. But the delivery driver was to unlock it for me, his trusted friend.
During my lunch, I managed to find my way to the delivery door, into the delivery room and into his towel cart. He then topped me off with other dirty towels. Dirty towels were a small price for me to pay. Off we went. As I said ….. simple.
As he drove out of the prison there was still one remaining challenge. The prison always checked vehicles and their content leaving the prison. But with the holiday confusion and activity they were only spot checking the outgoing traffic. That is the one point of pure luck that was necessary for success. The truck was travelling along nicely, but suddenly stopped. I heard the back lift door of the truck open and heard a lot of activity and rooting around. There were six bins of towels on the truck, and I did not know how many they would check. Maybe all six? If so, I had failed.
It seemed an eternity as I heard the rustling through the bins. Then silence. Had they noticed something odd about my bin and stopped. My heart beat so fast it could have been ringing in their ears. Then I heard the back lift door of the truck slam shut. The truck started to move again.
I heard a tap, tap, tap on the back wall of the driver’s cabin. That was the signal. The bell of freedom had rung. Finally, the free and clear signal of my successful escape. It was over ….. but was it really over?
So now what? Well, I had not worked that one out. Escaped was escaped and that’s all I thought about. Would I see my kids? I don’t know. Would I get a job? Unknown. Where would I live? Unknown. How would I eat? Unknown. How could I avoid recapture? Unknown. Would the delivery driver get arrested? Unknown.
Those items were very important to any escape. Escaping from prison is just a first step. A foundational transaction to a full life of intricately planned, careful actions. Then you need to live, avoid attention, avoid discovery, establish a new life and then your escape would be final and successful.
Look at Andy Dufrane. He labored for years, establishing a new identity for his eventual escape from Shawshank. He intricately concealed the warden’s money for his later use. He developed a post-escape outfit tied to his ankle. Then, targeted another country to build a new life and a means to get there. He even fashioned a way to have his best friend join him later if his friend was ever released from prison. All of this intricately planned, modified, anguished over and ultimately finalized while he was in prison.
What about Frank Lee Morris and the Anglin Brothers escape from Alcatraz. Did Frank Lee Morris’s 133 IQ empower them to fashion a post escape life, successfully, without detection? There are those that believe so. They never did find their bodies. Perhaps their intricate planning was successful.
Yet, I spent no time at all contemplating intricate planning after escape.
In prison, I found my challenge to be creating daily distractions from the mundane, robotic, repetitive, and everyday routine of prison life. My mind could not be occupied by the guards, the routine, the other inmates and how I got to prison. My own creativity was the only asset I could muster without outside interference. My creativity was my only weapon versus the battle to retain my sanity and establish a modest foundation of invented happiness.
Over my thirty-five years of incarceration I had devised many useful, comforting escapes from my prison. Were any successful? In a strong sense yes. They kept me sane, gave me hope and diverted my attention from the unbearably sterile prison routine.
Would they have worked? Who would even know? None were real but just imagined escapes to keep my mind occupied, sane, and off of my situation.
But each escape I devised seemed to get better and better. I thought my latest just described was a masterpiece.
In prison from moment to moment, day to day, it is all about ….. be it physical or mental ….. escaping.
Escaping(Tom Keltner)
The plan was magnificent. It was subject to constant scrutiny and revision by it’s long-experienced author ….. me.
Invisibility was tantamount. Render yourself unnoticeable. Reject inmate and guard conflicts. Be neutral to guards. Too much complimentary attention could arouse suspicion and make you visible. Don’t volunteer for or seek out prison jobs. Although those jobs provide opportunity, they plant you on the dangerous prison and guard radar, a place to avoid at all expense. Does it make your escape harder? Yes, but it makes it more possible.
Next was keeping a keen eye, a quiet, invisible eye. Looking, watching, detecting flaws, openings, opportunities. What are the guards habits and schedules? Where are their gaps or insufficiencies in wall guard coverage and camera coverage? When were the gates regularly opened to accept new prisoners, visitors, deliveries of supplies. Were their peak times for visitors to distract the guards?
You must know these things and many other things by accurate, instant recall. These elements are required to work as a finely tuned orchestra, playing together as one with no missed notes to a crescendo of escape, my escape.
I was able to make notes on toilet paper and hide them in nooks and crannies in my cell and clothing. The information was too extensive to keep in my head, a head now over 67 years tenured with 35 years of incarnation. The possibility of early release, parole, pardon were that of the likelihood of Scarlett Johansson suddenly popping by for a conjugal visit ….. although I held all those “possibilities” open, but just as fantasy.
There is an old Army saying, “keep it simple stupid.” The plan begged for simplicity since complexity invites error and error was unacceptable. A single error would be fatal to the cause, my cause, my escape. Simplicity required there being no inmate accomplice. An accomplice who could make mistakes, change their mind, spill the plan to other inmates or guards. This was my escape; it was all on me and nobody else.
I fantasized removing myself from this thirty-five-year torture of incarceration. What if I were to just touch and smell a tree? Could I experience the scents and sounds relaxing by a quiet lake? Could I behold the majesty of a mountain top view? Would my friends still be alive, could I even recognize them? My wife had passed seven years ago, but she had already relieved me from her tortured mind. My children seemed to reluctantly visit the first five years, wrote for the next two, but not a visit or a letter for now twenty-eight years. But never a visit or a letter from my daughter who had abandoned me very early on. What would my family do? What would be their reaction were I to arrive at their door?
I imagined my welcome home party. Banners, music, presents, laughter, great catchup conversations abounding. “Great to see you again dad!” ringing out from all three of them. But that would all likely be filed under early release, parole, pardon ….. and the tragically unlikely Johansson visit.
But what would really transpire at this unlikely gathering? Predictably reactive shock, dismay, rejection, locking the front door, and calling the police? Afterall, I was incarcerated for murder, the murder of my daughter’s boyfriend. She was only fourteen at the time and had come under the control of a nineteen-year-old drug dealer. I could not bear to see her life deteriorate to abject meaninglessness. She could not possibly understand what was in store for her life and someone needed to intervene. I fancied what I did was right, others I’m sure determined it misguided and wrong. But a judge, Jury and the law determined it was illegal. Illegal was all that counted.
So, here I am, for the last thirty-five years with my entire life obligated. Here, languishing in routine misery and repetitive discomfort. Could there be anything worse that could happen? What was there to additionally distain? Was there any loss to experience with an escape? Could there even be a downside to its failure? So, it was an escape that occupied my mind and actions.
I mentioned simplicity and the plan was simple. My best escape window would be the weekend of Christmas. The holiday season taxes the staff of the prison with a high volume of visitors that need to be shepherded and packages to be examined and verified. The guards were likely off balance, and many would abandon their stations tending to visitors and checking packages. The prison was experiencing staffing shortages, like the rest of the world, and was short-staffed with guards, maintenance, cleaning, and many other necessary positions.
There was a key resource that could open my door to escape success. I had talked for years with a delivery man for sheets and towels to the prison. We talked very infrequently since it needed to be when guards were distracted which was, sadly for the prison, frequently. But over those infrequent talks for years we had grown a common bond from our common experiences. He was an ex-con who had a son destroyed by drugs and a drug dealer. He was one of the people who understood my situation and respected what I did, even though it was illegal. We had a relationship of rapport and trust. He stood alone among everyone I had met that could be trusted and truly want to help me.
His schedule had him coming for his delivery of sheets and towels on Christmas Eve. This was the peak of distraction for the prison staff with Christmas preparation, visitation, and confusion. He made sure to deliver during the lunch period of the prison when I would be out of my cell. The plan was simple. With all the confusion I could join him in the delivery room. The delivery room door was locked from the inside not allowing inmate access. The prison never conceived that a person in the delivery room would expose themselves to inmates by unlocking the door. But the delivery driver was to unlock it for me, his trusted friend.
During my lunch, I managed to find my way to the delivery door, into the delivery room and into his towel cart. He then topped me off with other dirty towels. Dirty towels were a small price for me to pay. Off we went. As I said ….. simple.
As he drove out of the prison there was still one remaining challenge. The prison always checked vehicles and their content leaving the prison. But with the holiday confusion and activity they were only spot checking the outgoing traffic. That is the one point of pure luck that was necessary for success. The truck was travelling along nicely, but suddenly stopped. I heard the back lift door of the truck open and heard a lot of activity and rooting around. There were six bins of towels on the truck, and I did not know how many they would check. Maybe all six? If so, I had failed.
It seemed an eternity as I heard the rustling through the bins. Then silence. Had they noticed something odd about my bin and stopped. My heart beat so fast it could have been ringing in their ears. Then I heard the back lift door of the truck slam shut. The truck started to move again.
I heard a tap, tap, tap on the back wall of the driver’s cabin. That was the signal. The bell of freedom had rung. Finally, the free and clear signal of my successful escape. It was over ….. but was it really over?
So now what? Well, I had not worked that one out. Escaped was escaped and that’s all I thought about. Would I see my kids? I don’t know. Would I get a job? Unknown. Where would I live? Unknown. How would I eat? Unknown. How could I avoid recapture? Unknown. Would the delivery driver get arrested? Unknown.
Those items were very important to any escape. Escaping from prison is just a first step. A foundational transaction to a full life of intricately planned, careful actions. Then you need to live, avoid attention, avoid discovery, establish a new life and then your escape would be final and successful.
Look at Andy Dufrane. He labored for years, establishing a new identity for his eventual escape from Shawshank. He intricately concealed the warden’s money for his later use. He developed a post-escape outfit tied to his ankle. Then, targeted another country to build a new life and a means to get there. He even fashioned a way to have his best friend join him later if his friend was ever released from prison. All of this intricately planned, modified, anguished over and ultimately finalized while he was in prison.
What about Frank Lee Morris and the Anglin Brothers escape from Alcatraz. Did Frank Lee Morris’s 133 IQ empower them to fashion a post escape life, successfully, without detection? There are those that believe so. They never did find their bodies. Perhaps their intricate planning was successful.
Yet, I spent no time at all contemplating intricate planning after escape.
In prison, I found my challenge to be creating daily distractions from the mundane, robotic, repetitive, and everyday routine of prison life. My mind could not be occupied by the guards, the routine, the other inmates and how I got to prison. My own creativity was the only asset I could muster without outside interference. My creativity was my only weapon versus the battle to retain my sanity and establish a modest foundation of invented happiness.
Over my thirty-five years of incarceration I had devised many useful, comforting escapes from my prison. Were any successful? In a strong sense yes. They kept me sane, gave me hope and diverted my attention from the unbearably sterile prison routine.
Would they have worked? Who would even know? None were real but just imagined escapes to keep my mind occupied, sane, and off of my situation.
But each escape I devised seemed to get better and better. I thought my latest just described was a masterpiece.
In prison from moment to moment, day to day, it is all about ….. be it physical or mental ….. escaping.
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Shelly Garrod
07/15/2023Superb story Tom. Quick and easy read. Kept me wanting to read to see where his mind was going. He did have many years to plan his escapes. Well written. Happy Short Story Star of the Day.
Blessings Shelly
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Lillian Kazmierczak
07/15/2023What a fantastic story! Genius escape plan! Interesting what one's mind can think up to escape from reality. An intense and interesting read. Tension filled until the end! A well-deserved short story star of the day!
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Jane Lockyer Willis
07/15/2023I thought this a brilliant piece of writing: sharp, concise, exciting. Not once did it lag. You kept the momentum going right to the finish. Superb! Thank you. Jane
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Gerald R Gioglio
07/15/2023Nice work Tom. I could feel the walls creeping in. Happy StoryStar Day. grg
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BEN BROWN
07/15/2023A great story. The escape was well planned. Well done for being todays star.
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