Q.

Write a Narrative in which a ticket is of

Importance.

The muffled light struggled through the frosted glass of the cell window.
"You know we can't allow for the possesion of such things in here." The guard said, turning over the
train ticket in fingers. The prisoner could sense by the guard's tone he was touched with pity and, as
such, infused all the humility he possessed into his eyes and voice as he began to address him.
"Sir, as I have explained to you, this ticket holds a tremendous deal of sentimental significance to
me. I am no longer a free man. My liberty has been taken from me and I have come to accept my
detention. I have developed some semblance of peace within these walls, largely deriving from what
you see here in this cell."
The prisoner stepped aside, his back turned to the wall so the guard could fully absorb the view, or
lack thereof.
"A bed to sleep on. A toilet for relief. And there, in your hands," he gestured with his eyes toward the
ticket, still tumbling through the guards fingers, "a simple token of the last journey with my mother
prior to my arrest, who now, god rest her soul, is no longer with us."
The guard listened attentively. He gazed at the prisoner and recollected his words. Every word the
young man uttered convinced him of the innocence of the possession of which he had found upon
the inspection of his cell a few moments earlier.
With a sigh of resolution, the guard returned the ticket to the prisoner, locked the iron door and
nodded a sign of understanding before making his way.
Once the guard's footsteps had sufficiently quietened into the distance, the young prisoner sprang to
his bed, lifted the corner of the mattress and began to remove with his nails, a seemingly
imperceptible thread from its lining.
Once a hole the size of the man's hand had opened, he sought to extract from it, a small glass jar
and crumpled square of cellophane. He looked over his shoulder toward the door and, satisfied with
his privacy, made his way to the end of the cell toward the narrow, rectangular frosted window. On
his short journey, the young man managed to both carefully unfold the cellophane, which he had
previously stolen from the cafeteria, and unscrew the lid from the small jar.
Now, to the eyes of a civilian, what happened next appears to be a most peculiar sight, but to an
inmate, the beginning of a notorious prison trick.
The young man dipped his finger into the jar, removing a generous portion of petroleum jelly which
he painted across the center of the frosted window. Some time earlier, he had acquired this
forbidden treat like all forbidden things in prison; by the help of a fellow prisoner apt at acquiring
things, in return for a packet of cigarettes.
Once a portion as large as his head had been smeared, the prisoner placed on top the thin film of
cellophane, which stuck instantly to the jelly.
Lastly, and the final part to the ingenious trick, the train ticket; which the young prisoner happened
upon a few months prior, having witnessed it fall from the pocket of a patrolling guard.
"Thank God he didn't see the date or I'd have never gotten it back." The prisoner chuckled to himself
as he flexed the card between his fingers which bowed in the middle and promptly snapped back to
its original form.
Due to its rigidity, the ticket, he had learnt, acted as the ideal tool to push across the surface of the
film. Flexible enough so as to not damage the fine plastic, but firm enough to remove trapped air and
bubbles from between the window, the jelly and the cellophane. The result of which creates, at least
to a humble prisoner, a brilliant and wonderful reaction. Each time the young man performed the
manouver, it filled him with the same sense of astonishment and gratitude as the first time he was
taught it.
The frosted glass, previously shielding the outside world, miraculously revealed itself, forming a
window as transparent as the film itself. A window to freedom.
He could see the sky and the grounds of the prison, otherwise hidden from view. At the end of the
grounds, tall fencing and barbed wire marked the perimeter at the rear end of the prison. A singular
road passed on the other side which, as always at this time of day, stood a middle aged woman.
She had the striking resemblance to the prisoner and seemed to be busying herself in a manner so
not to draw unwanted attention.
The prisoner watched as the woman gazed up at the prison, moving her eyes from window to
window before suddenly making eyes with his. A feeling of warmth flooded his being. He looked
down and smiled to his mother who returned with a most needed of waves and blowing of kisses.