Author: Willie Fleming

It begins with the clanging sound of steel doors shutting. Followed by the sniffles, sneezes and sadness of the sick. The inmates and guards all look mean spirited, merciless and mad. The breakfast of watery grits thinned out...

I was in prison on the fourth of November, when my mother died. I laid under the cover for hours and cried. When the Chaplain informed me that I would not be able to go to the funeral. I was in unspeakable pain. Then it began to...

Know you can’t stand the yelling, screaming and calls. I know you’re in there behind a lie—or something you did impulsively and can’t remember why. I know you can’t cry, and that you ‘ve thought it...