Explore Skeyestorm

“Class, we have a new student today.” Ms. Tate said. Standing near her, a person holding a trombone case waved slightly. They had a neutral expression on their face, but seemed somewhat nervous. “Name’s Miguel.” They said, then turned to the teacher. “Where should I sit?” “How about over there, with the other trombones?” Ms. Tate pointed to the seat next to me, as I was the last in the row. “Fine with me.” They walked over, sitting down next to me. “So new kid, what school you transfer from?” I asked as they put their instrument together.” “I’ve been homeschooled for most of my life.” They replied with a blank tone, easing their mout...

What did I do to deserve my sentence? Every day I think about this question as my daily service ends. Sometimes more. I wonder if I'm the only prisoner who does. My cell mates don't seem to mind. They're probably unaware though. The guards always say it's fun, and attempt to make the best of it, but I see through the lies. They can fool most, but not all. Maybe I am the only one. Maybe all the other prisoners actually enjoy the time they have. It's all a ruse though. I've been serving my time since I was five, like most. That was back when they could fool me. Sooner or later though, my former friends abandoned me, unintentionally showing t...