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GCSE Imaginative Writing: Write a short story set in a maximum security penitentary

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English Language Coursework Assignment 2: Imaginative Writing That night. The street was dimly lit by rusty streetlamps. The torrential rain was wild and indiscriminate, purging every nook and crevis it could find. No car, man, or woman disturbed the monotony of black tarmac and terraced houses. It felt empty and deserted. It was, surreal. I stood in a small alleyway clutching a small scrap of paper. There was a single sentence in smudged ink that read: ‘The man is Ryan Jenkins, Black Swan Inn Stapleton Road, Have it done before midnight, Do not let me down again.’ I stuffed the crumpled note back in my pocket and took out the revolver. It was carbon steel framed with a 6-inch barrel. The light from the streetlamps reflected off the weapon, which had already been soaked by the constant downpour. I quickly loaded two rounds into the first and second chamber, afterwards placing it back in its sheath. ...read more.


A sudden wave of strong emotion washed over me. I felt it sharply in my chest and then throughout my body. I was about to kill a man I’d never even met. A man who was in some way, very similar to myself. Desperate, afraid, and caught up in a game much bigger than ourselves. And that’s when he appeared in front of me. His face reflected mine; shocked, confused, panicked. We awkwardly stood, staring at each other like deer caught in the headlights. My trembling hands steadied the revolver towards the man. I closed my eyes. I held my breath. Crack! The deafening boom of violent thunder echoed around the concrete walls of Rockwood Penitentiary. I woke up in a cold sweat, shivering and unable to catch my breath. The yellow ceiling light greeted me with a bright stare. The dreaded nightmare repeats itself daily, taunting me with its clarity. ...read more.


That’s all I am. I deserve to have my life taken away, for I have taken the life away from another. I still hadn’t truly come to terms with what had happened, and I was still in a rather traumatised, dazed state. My mind was filled with thoughts Jenkin’s face. How scared he was. How scared I was. How I had so wrongly stole him of his life. No one has the right to do such thing. How dare I! How dare I kill him! And now I’m here. Locked up, confined, caged like a wild animal for the rest of my life. I long for a second chance, a new beginning, a new life. A job, a house, a family. Anything. I deserve this all. Which is what led me onto writing this account, to leave behind at least something. It is raining, much like the dreaded night, ice-silver bitter bullets of spite and fury. The lacerating wind blows harshly and strongly. I look out from the roof for miles. I can finally be free from the cell. From the prison. From the guilt. From myself. Goodbye. ...read more.

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