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Prison Bliss

by Clarence Bell III about a year ago in fiction

Witches, Demons, & Mortals

Prison Bliss
Photo by Damir Spanic on Unsplash

Juan wakes violently with a vision of a barn owl trying to tell him something. Struggling to remember, wondering why he is locked up 1000 miles away from family and friends having to fight strange enemies. Indians that look like his homies move in mysterious ways like ghosts and demons staring back at him in the mirror of his third eye.

JUAN

(voice over)

These fools been locked up for days and I’m still getting contact highs from their spirits. I can feel their pain and know some of them will dance with the devil to kill a devil. My surfer boy paradigm would be sliced like frozen butter with a hot knife if I was dumb enough to talk enough to get myself in a pickle for my cornbread or my ass.

Looking around the Dairy Queen size cell he could see the White boys, the Bloods, the Crips, the independents, the Indians, Chicano’s, and the LGTB’s all in one place. No group had more than 4 people. The independents were a Satan worshiping wimp who Juan suspected was only doing it to keep from being repeatedly raped, a football high school star on the downhill at 19, and Juan. Everyone was yelling because their were so many people in such a small space like a nice party. The mood was jovial, and people were telling stories to pass the time. For the most part everyone was taking a turn speaking by talking over each other until one submitted because what the other person was saying sounded more fun. One by one Juan witnessed the game ebb and flow with good stories and bad, boring ones, and inappropriate ones. Juan was getting use to the nice spirit flowing in the cell as everyone cooperated and kept each other entertained and lighthearted in a rare moment of prison bliss. Suddenly the vibe was shattered with what sounded like someone burping and talking some star trek alien language. The whole cell got quiet as the loner Satan worshiper that claimed he came from a long line of witches in the Appalachian Mountains of Tennessee that handled snakes and summoned evil as easily and often as driving to the grocery store.

JACOB

Satan is here.

Then unrecognizable gibberish that sounded like a Satan worshiping rock band song in some European language. His whole body shook and hardcore criminals started to run away from this freak of nature.

JACOB

Your souls are mine now.

Juan stands up from the other side of the cell

JUAN

Jesus Christ is the prince of all principalities.

More Satan worshiping European lyrics

JACOB

Who wants to be first.

This was no light threat. It was rumored that the guards were afraid of this kid and he got special treatment for his Satanic knowledge and wisdom.

Juan says again with more force and anointing.

JUAN

Jesus Christ is the prince of all principalities.

The whole cell squeezed behind Juan pushing him to confront Jacob and using Juan like a shield against real Evil.

JACOB

I drink blood, I raise black widow spiders for their venom, I worship Satan. I can kill with spells and incantations.

JUAN

What is your name?

JACOB

Names are irrelevant here. There are many. (Satanic Gibberish this time sounding like it was coming from the walls behind Juan)

JUAN

That’s a cool trick. How do you throw your voice like that?

JACOB

Trick? You are a fool. (Satanic Gibberish)

JUAN

In the name of Jesus, give this poor man peace and protection from the demons and devils of his clan.

JACOB

(Less loud and agitated Satanic Gibberish)

JUAN

Yes Lord. Thank you Jesus. Yes Lord. Thank you Jesus. Yes Lord. Thank you Jesus.

Some of the people hiding behind Juan started to say it with him. “Yes Lord. Thank you Jesus.”

Jacob curls up into a ball in the corner and goes to sleep. The whole cell breathed a sigh of relief and Juan paces full of power and anointing from the men that stood behind him and from his Heavenly Father.

Some of the men resented Juan and felt like they needed to regain face but Juan remained humble having quiet conversations with a few people that came up to him and shook his hand and said nice things until one of the White boys came over and was having an obvious panic attack. He was twitching and his eyes were wide with terror and pain begging for help without saying a word. Juan kept talking and shaking hands until one of the other White boys asked Juan to help his friend that was in distress. Juan sat down beside Mark and observed him. When Mark began to calm down a little Juan motioned for him to sit with him and he did but still fidgeting and nervous like he was in shock.

JUAN

What is your name?

MARK

Mark.

JUAN

Where are you from?

MARK

Here. Phoenix. Where are you from?

JUAN

San Antonio. My name is Juan. I can help you calm down if you want.

MARK

Yes please.

JUAN

Do you know what Meditation is?

MARK

No.

JUAN

It is like Tai Chi have you heard of that?

MARK

No.

(Juan Gets up and does some Tai Chi in extra slow motion while talking)

JUAN

Tai Chi is a martial art. The authorities outlawed swords because there were so many deaths from sword fighting. Tai Chi relieves stress and helps you to meditate and clear your mind so you can have peace. People who practice Tai Chi are Swordsmen without swords. Our weapons are an extension of our minds and spirits. Weak mind and spirit. Weak application of whatever weapon you hold in your hands. Try the basic hand movement and repeat after me. “Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, but those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

MARK

This is relaxing. Thank you.

(Mark is noticeably calmer and not fidgeting as much.)

The room begins to spread out and divide back up into their groups, but Mark refuses to go back with the White boys and the Chicano’s refuse to let Juan out of their protection. The White boy that asked Juan to help Mark pulled him back to be with the other White boys. Juan nodded in agreement that Mark was safer with his people.

After about an hour the stories began to roll again.

JUAN

One time I inhaled freon...

Before Juan can get into the story, the newest arrival that was waiting for the perfect time to take over cut Juan off and said,

NAZI

Yea. You might have to fight. And you still might get taken.

The 6’2” 340 pound White supremist claimed he bench pressed 600 pounds and squatted 800. Juan thought for sure He could do half of that, but his 5’8” frame was no match for this freak. The Nazi missed the spiritual fireworks and didn’t know who Juan was or what he had just done. Juan looked around the room at the Chicano’s and they all looked down, away, or shook their head “no.” Juan put his head down and let the fascist Nazi talk nonstop for over an hour until a guard came to get Juan to take him to a protective custody unit. That was all the officer would say, and it was pissing Juan off but he tried to hide his true feeling of wanting to kill this pig for treating him like he was a piece of shit.

People died over respect in this place that had very little. Everyday people didn’t respect prison guards or prisoners. Everyday people were too consumed by their own fear, anger, doubt, and worry that they could not see much beyond their own condition whether rich or poor or faking.

fiction

Clarence Bell III

Author of Journey into Greater Love - An African Science Fiction on Kindle.

Read next: The Hunted

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