**CEASED**. A short story contest.

Source.

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Peter just received the call again, it’s the same news. His wife had another miscarriage, good news is; she didn’t lose so much blood. Well, that was good news to the doctor. “I need another doctor” he said to himself. “Who calls this good news? She lost a baby again and he’s congratulating me on something I obviously wouldn’t care about right now? Heck, I need another child.”

He was seen hitting his head this time around. “I am sorry, baby. It’s nice you are around; it would have been a disaster if you went with the child. Yes, it’s good news.”

“Is anything wrong, Sir?” Frank had been listening to his boss speak to himself. “The I.G is around and I’m 100% sure the form is available now.” Peter is about retiring, if the form is ready as frank claimed, today would be his last day in MowHawlk prison.

As he walked through the corridor of block 2, he couldn’t help smiling. Yes! Being a warden at this prison is one hell of a job and having to control the prisoners in block 2 is another big deal. The memory was still fresh, this was where he experienced what he called "my timer pain". He stood on a spot, bent down and picked a needle. “Take this, you should be watchful Frank, you never know if this would be useful to them”, the baffled Frank took it and nodded.
“You see this cut on my stomach? A needle was used to design it.” He laughed as he showed Frank the lower region of his belly.

Difficult and troublesome are nice words when describing Thomas; he never liked Peter and never ceased to show it. Peter on the other hand treated him badly; he had made him go two days without eating before. Peter smiled when he got to ward 5, the room suddenly went silent on seeing him. He checked the third upper bunk by the right, still, nobody has been using there. That was Thomas’ bunk, that’s the bunk reserved for their lorpan (a name for their leaders). As usual, he was parading that faithful day, all prisoners were mandated to be on their bunks. He checked ward 5 and noticed a prisoner was kneeling down. He needed no soothsayer to decipher what was going on. “Go to your bunk this minute!” he had said. The prisoner was in a dilemma, he just stood up sweating profusely. Peter couldn’t take it anymore, he opened the ward gate, barged in, and the next thing he saw was blank. Thomas had come out from nowhere, turned him over and pierced him with fourteen needles. That’s how he kept narrating the story, he didn’t really exaggerated, when the doctor had removed the needles, it was ten. Luckily for him that day, another warden had called for backup when he heard the sounds from block 2.

He hissed, closed the ward gate and continued the not too far journey.
“You didn’t tell me the reason for the uproar at ward 8, who made that noise?” He looked towards his right and discovered Frank was lost, he was playing with the needle and probably didn’t hear him.
“Frank?” he shouted.
“Yes sir? It was Paul” he replied firmly.
Frank had been wondering how a needle would make a cut as big as that.
“Paul again? That’s good news,” He smirked.

If Thomas was dangerous, then, deadly is the perfect nick for Paul. The fact that he was gentle made him worse. No one would suspect him. Peter couldn’t help reminiscing. A year ago, he was in his best mood smoking, drinking and laughing with his mates when a young warden runs towards them, calling for backup. They’d all followed him and met a horrible scene; there were two dead bodies in ward 1 that afternoon. They had died a horrible death, one had a sharp knife on his fore head, and the other had broken bottles on his neck. Peter couldn’t forget the smirk on Paul’s face. Any time a prisoner insults him or get physical with him, they all ended up dying a day after. Every attempt to trace the incident to him proved abortive. Peter knew he did it but had no proof. But, he was happy at the decision he made, he transferred him to ward 8 (the deadliest ward in the prison). He had begged them not to kill him but make life miserable for him. The grin on his face grew wider when he reminisced along.

They had gotten out of the wards; they were finally outside, but, still in the confinements of the prison. If a 9 storey building was built in MowHaulk, you still wouldn’t see it when you are outside the gate. There was another big building opposite the prison wards block, that’s where most of the wardens rest. He looked around when he got there and sat down on a chair facing the men he came to meet.

“Congratulations, Mr. Peter, you have served well, as we all know that …..” he wasn’t listening anymore.
His eyes were fixed at the gate that connects to a small building, a room in it also leads to the prison. He discovered this two years ago. Throughout the thirty years he spent here, he only got to know not too long courtesy of Sammy. He tried to escape. “Oh! Sammy, that bastard would have ruined me if he had succeeded”.
“Mr. Peter??” he was called back from his thoughts.
“You have to sign here, and here too”, he collected the pen and appended all necessary signatures. When the men had gone, Frank couldn’t help asking.
“You weren’t listening when they were praising you, right? You had your eyes fixed to that gate, don’t worry, nobody would ever try to escape again, the security measures are now tougher.”
Peter laughed loud this time.
“I wasn’t worrying son.”

According to Sammy, he had planned the break out for six years. He discovered there was an underground passage at the inner room of ward 2 that led to the building outside the prison ward. The government had built it that way for a reason best known to them. Sammy had calculated when the securities at each gate would be off and perhaps careless of their environs. Unfortunately for him, Peter was outside the prison gate that night purchasing some personal items at a joint, he couldn’t send any other person and he needed it that night. He saw Sammy right on time and a fight ensued between them. Peter was beaten, quite alright. But, for a fifty-nine year old, he tried. Sammy was shot that night when he tried running away after beating Peter blue-black. He was the smartest prisoner Peter ever met.

“What next Boss?” Frank asked.
“I’m going home, my wife needs me.” He laughed as he hummed to an imaginary song being played on his head.

This is a twenty four hours short story contest by @mctiller , you can find the link to the contest here...
https://steemit.com/twentyfourhourshortstory/@mctiller/writers-win-5-steem-24-hour-short-story-contest-march-27-topic-10-the-warden-from-the-most-difficult-prison-in-the-galaxy