Episode 8

The Unguarded Condemned : Episode 8 : 12/31/2025

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Written by Shannon Black-Youel

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Here in solitary confinement, we don’t have much. But I’ll tell you what we do have—light. A narrow window wedged where the wall kisses the ceiling. Our circadian rhythm marches on.

On this crazy night, I’ve kept my gaze to the stars. I haven’t seen them in a long, long time. For the weeks I’ve been here, in this steel box, the floodlights outside really dampened any hopes I had of seeing those twinkling orbs above. But now, the lights are out. The stars are here.

The civil rights activists who picket at the gate, the ones who want to interview us and meet us at visitation, they say where I’m at is inhumane. Cruel. Unusual. Hell, this whole night has been unusual. But I bet those big hearted attorneys never expected solitary to be the one safe place in this prison. The one place the monsters can’t get me. Not that I really believe they’re there.

See, first I heard someone yelling about no guards. And wow, did the people panic. I mean I get it. When you’ve been babysat by these chunky boys with guns for so long, it’s a shock when they disappear. But do we really need them? I’ve been doing just fine on my own. On the outside, I learned to trust no one and nothing, especially fear. It’s just me and my better judgment.

Good Lord, have they been screaming up a storm out there. The guards were gone, now they’re back. Why are we happy they’re back? Is it not our goal, as prisoners, to try to get away from those guys?

Instead, the screams. The screams just rattle around our little steel rooms.

Now, I hear yelling here all the time. Tonight’s just ramped it up a little, is all. With that big, steel door between me and the others, the only thing I’ve got is my ears. And with them, I hear people loose their minds every day and never find them again.

So this monster they’re screaming about? Nah. I might be in here alone, but I’ve still got my wits about me. I didn’t ship my brain off to fairy land when I got myself locked up. I’m not going to step outside this room, find my comrades eaten or mauled by a beast.

But by each other? That sounds more like it. There are folks who’ve been in this cell before me, done their time and gone back out into population. But they’ll feel that thunder in their stomach again. Violence is never far away. Trust me.

Above me, the stars are starting to fade. The sky’s turning that orange-purple color, a combination that only looks beautiful up above. Dawn’s on its way home. And I’m out of here.

See, I’m not dumb enough to think I’m stuck in here. Those lights in the yard? They’re run by a generator so strong, it could keep a state running. But they’re out. Which means the power must be out inside too. The electricity that kept my door shut, those magnets? They’re toast. I’ve just waiting for some light to fill those hallways, rays to guide my escape. To knock some sense into the fools outside my door.

I don’t even pause for a sentimental moment at the door handle. You’d probably expect some reflection on my time here. On the days I’ve spent staring at the wall, considering the choices that have led me to my prescribed loneliness. But instead, I grab that metal thing and pull with all the strength my atrophied muscles can muster. I pull myself into freedom.

But there is no light waiting to greet me on the other side of this door. No collection of cell mates ready to welcome me back into population, to hear my rallying cry for escape, to walk arm and arm with me out into the yard and through the gates beyond.

There is only sharpness.

Teeth. Talons.

My eyes and my legs work quicker than my brain. I run backwards, pulling the door behind me. I slam my body against the far wall and slither down it, hunched over myself. My heart thrumming, threatening to enter my throat, torpedo between my teeth and out of my body.

Because my better judgment was wrong.

It’s out there.

I saw it.