ESCALATORS & MUFFIN MONSTERS

I haven’t participated in a prison orientation in years. This event usually takes place in a gym with row upon row of tables staffed by non-custody employees explaining the intricacies of prison survival. Whether it’s the quarter-master handing out bed rolls, the classification director dispensing advice on various programs, the principal explaining enrollment procedures/school rules, or the resident unit managers handing out pamphlets on the Prisoner Rape Elimination Act, it’s clearly too much information to process. Especially for those A-prefix inmates (first-timers). B, C, & D-prefix inmates already know the protocol and get a little irritated by the whole process.

The reason I’m bringing this up has to do with Jason Evan’s latest writing contest based on a photograph of an escalator. For some reason, when I initially saw those corrugated, metallic steps, I thought of an unfortunate child getting his hand maimed. I read about it in some newspaper long ago. It’s funny how we recall such things; Here’s an invention that transports people, it’s meant to be helpful. Did the child know of the dangers involved? Had he ever been on an escalator before? Or was this his first time? Was he under adult supervision when it happened? The questions kept coming.

Our brains work in mysterious ways. I went from thinking about that child, that horrible incident, to thinking about an A-prefix inmate being told how prison life would be, how he would need time to adjust. I hadn’t envisioned any one particular inmate. No, in my minds-eye he remained as faceless as my child did. Before I picked up my legal pad of paper and pen to write my story, I felt an underlying danger “in” (or perhaps “on”) that escalator.

There are so many things we just don’t know about. The title of my story is If You'd Only Pay Attention. There’s a treasure trove of wonderful stories in the competition. Also, if you read mine, you'll see how I incorporated the Muffin Monster.