Author Topic: From Jailbird to Freebird  (Read 662 times)


  • Young Wyrm
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From Jailbird to Freebird
« on: October 14, 2017, 11:50:00 AM »
[size=9]Oh darlin, darlin
What have I done?
I've been a stray from you too long
And all my days have turned to darkness
Hell is leaving the light on

- Oh Darlin' What Have I Done
The White Buffalo[/b][/size]

Orange was never a favored color for the Outlaw, but over time, it was a color that you got used to. Just like the concrete walls of a four-by-four cell could become a place of safety, of confined realization. Solitary solace, away from other inmates, other criminals. A long-term, intrusive time out for a grown man, to think on what he?s done. It was a new perspective.

Peering through those steel bars, he saw those who took it for granted. Those like him that took their years in confinement as a way to make peace with yourself. To gain a new look on life. A new appreciation for what wasn't in here.

As many friends as he?d made in the prison, he?d made twice as many enemies by association with the name bore on a kutte locked away in some bin. They recognized the tattoos. The face. The name. If asked, he made no denial. A lift of a bearded chin, a hard stare. Yeah, m?him. And that was the noose around his neck then and there. The yard was no safe refuge, no enjoyment of the sun but a time to look over his shoulder, expecting violence from every hard look shot his way. Over time, he?d grown used to his four-by-four sanctuary.

The same four-by-four cell that housed the few items he was allowed to keep. A stack of books, all sent to him by friends outside the walls. A leather bound book with most pages blank, keeping his thoughts safe and tucked away inside his head. The first few pages were marked only with tallies, noting the days spent. His personal calendar. Personal grooming items, the small amount of clothes given to him. Lacking laces or anything possibly used as a weapon. A box, still holding some of his favorite things from friends that knew him best and tucked beneath them was letters he kept. He?d told those that called to write him instead, they meant something more. And writing gave him something to do.

Everything was kept tidy, clean. Tucked away and out of sight. The door was always closed, so he had time in case someone showed up to his cell that didn?t like him all that much. His bed was always made after sleeping in it, and often he?d sleep on top of it just in case. He didn?t want to be entangled in blankets and sheets. His paranoia and distrust was always at it?s peak at night.

But he was used to looking over his shoulder, before he was locked away. What was his biggest struggle, was sank his stomach down to his feet. What he cherished most was gone in the blink of an eye: freedom. What the Outlaws cherished most, believed in, reveled in. What they held close in their hearts. Freedom was in the road, his hog, the wind. It wasn?t in concrete and steel, it wasn?t in the color orange and grey. Those were only reminders of what he?d lost.

And every day; after his morning routines of a shower, breakfast and brushing his teeth, he?d mark those tallies in his book. Counting down to the moment he could breathe in Freedom.

Before it was too late. Before the clock ran out. Before they came and made him pay his dues. His Real Dues.
[i:34dee0d3ec][size=9:34dee0d3ec]"Fools," said I, "You do not know:
Silence, like a cancer, grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you.
Take my arms that I might reach you."


  • Young Wyrm
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Re: From Jailbird to Freebird
« Reply #1 on: October 14, 2017, 12:46:48 PM »
June 5, 2017

Laying on the bottom bunk, on top of the neatly made bed, Shep rested. He?d spent a good portion of the afternoon using his cell as his personal workout room, making sure he didn?t go soft in his incarceration. With one arm tucked between the back of his shaggy head and the single pillow. One leg drawn up, his knee bent and resting against the cool concrete wall to his left. The other stretched out, nearly dangling off the side of the bunk to the floor. Propped on a bare chest was his hand, holding open a book with a stretched thumb and pinky propping open the pages.

Stormy blue eyes scanned the words from Heart of Darkness, something he was currently consumed in. He couldn?t remember ever being so consumed by books and literature, but it had become a favorite pastime of his. Something he?d never given a chance, and almost regretted taking them for granted.

It was mid-page that he heard the tapping of a guard?s baton on the steel bars of his cell. ?Hol? on,? he muttered, pulling his arm from behind his head to hold up a silencing, lone finger as his eyes scanned the words desperately to quicken the pace.

?Think the book can wait this time, Sheppard.?

?M?almost done,? came his response, stubborn in finishing the page to mark it. Middle of a chapter? Fine. Middle of a page? He didn?t want to risk missing out.

The guard sighed, taking up a lean of his elbow on one of the horizontal bars, rolling the baton in his hands. ?Hurry up, Wayne.? The stocky guard shook his head. This wasn?t a new routine. He knew the biker loved his books, and he was one of the good ones that didn?t take the little bit of enjoyment the inmates like Sheppard had. The inmates that didn?t give him trouble, just asked for menial things like a couple more seconds to finish a page in their books before being bothered.

Shep?s eyes reached the bottom of the page and he kept from the urge to continue on to the next as he gently creased the corner of the page to keep his place. He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, let his fingers relax as the book closed and fell against his chest. He looked to the guard at his cell door, giving him a nod. ?What can I do ya for, Chief?? He smirked, if only because this guard was alright. Even knowing Sheppard?s affiliations, knowing what he?d done.

The guard?s chocolate eyes met Shep?s, his own smirk resting on a salt and pepper stubble chin. ?I could come up with some bull****, make you think I disturbed your reading for something stupid.?

Shep narrowed his eyes. ?You wouldn?t dare.?

?No,? the guard smirked. ?Not when I?ve got some good news for you for once.?

That got the outlaw?s attention. Blonde brows swept downward as he slowly set aside his book to the mattress, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as he peeled his back from the blanket to sit up. ?Since when ya got good news for me?? He snickered, resting his elbows on his knees with a hard stare through those bars that cut up the guard?s appearance.

The guard turned, sliding the barred door open with a grating sound of metal gnashing metal. He bore a wide grin on his face that only confused Shep more. ?They?re letting you out, Sheppard.?

Dumbfounded, he stared hard and quietly at the guard. He didn?t move, didn?t say a word. He just blinked.

The guard laughed, stepping into the cell and leaned against the wall across from the biker. ?Nothing? No tears of joy? No raising those middle fingers and telling us all to **** off?? He grinned.

Caught completely off guard, he pulled his eyes from the guard to the leather bound book resting on a metal shelf. Back to the guard. ?I?ve got six more months..? He muttered, brows dipping lower.

?You were supposed to. Seems you?ve got one hell of a lawyer who wants you out now.? The guard grinned, shifting his weight as he slid the baton back in place, crossing his arms over his chest a moment later.

Shep?s lips parted, shock settling into a scruffy face as he looked to the floor, but he wasn?t seeing the floor. Those stormy orbs ticked back and forth, the news settling in. ?When?? He murmured.

?Two days from now, they?re getting the paperwork together. I volunteered to tell you to get your s*** in here together.? The guard didn?t take his eyes off the outlaw.

?You?re not ****in? with me, are ya? ?Cause I?ll kick ya ass,? he made the empty threat, and the guard knew it was hollow.

?I wouldn?t do that to you, Wayne,? he snickered. ?Honestly, I think you should?ve gotten out sooner. You?ve given me the least problem in this Block.? He shook his head, bending down with his backside propped to the wall. His arms uncrossed, his hands met his knees for balance as he tilted his head to look the outlaw eye to eye. ?Wayne Sheppard, you incarcerated ****head. In two damn days, you?re getting outta here. Now, do I gotta beat some sense into you?? An equally empty threat.

Shep?s eyes lifted to meet the guard?s and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even as he watched the man pull out of his propped lean. Straightening with that smirk on his face, and he didn?t know how to react to those words. He just shook his head, mutter a cuss before he swiped his palm down his face. He didn?t know what to do. Laugh? Cry? Yell? Raise that middle finger like the guard suggested? Finally, he did the first with a shake of his head. He rose off that bunk. ?You son of a bitch,? he chuckled, and for the first time in a good few years, light flickered in those eyes again. ?C?mere.? He grunted.

?No, Sheppard, do-... ngh,? the guard was stiff as he got tugged into an awkward embrace by the man who had a good five inches on him, who was wider and bulkier. His chin lifted as Sheppard wound him up in a hug, all he could really do was pat the biker on the back. ?Alright, Bear. Calm down before the other guards think you?re mauling me,? he smirked.

Shep?s laughter bounced off the walls of the cell before he took a step back, holding up his hands in innocent surrender. ?Sorry, sorry.?

?I?ll forgive you this time, but keep your paws to yourself,? he pointed to the man, shaking his head. He smirked, reaching out to pat the man on the shoulder. ?It?ll be good to see you walking out of here,? he admitted. ?You?re one of the inmates I actually rooted for.?

That got a smile from Shep, a slow nod of his head. ?Thanks, Browning. I ?ppreciate it.?

?Just get your s*** together in here, and keep your s*** together out there, champ. You?ll be alright,? Browning gave the sentiment, a warm smile, then he was gone to leave that revelation to consume the outlaw.

The outlaw gave a sly smile, tucked behind blonde whiskers. ?I?ll be good.?

What he missed the most was within his reach again, and just in time.

[size=9]?For all of the light that I shut out
For all of the innocent things that I doubt
For all of the bruises I've caused and the tears
For all of the things that I've done all these years
And all
Yeah, for all of the sparks that I stomped out
For all of the perfect things that I doubt

I'll be good, I'll be good
And I'll love the world, like I should
Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good
For all of the times
I never could.?
[size=9]-I?ll Be Good
Jaymes Young
[i:34dee0d3ec][size=9:34dee0d3ec]"Fools," said I, "You do not know:
Silence, like a cancer, grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you.
Take my arms that I might reach you."


  • Young Wyrm
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Re: From Jailbird to Freebird
« Reply #2 on: November 17, 2017, 02:12:21 AM »
[size=9]Smoke em if you got em,
Drink your glasses to the bottom,
And toast me on another year.
Another year of hope,
Another year of holdin on,
You drinkers by day, and bastards by dawn.

And I hope I will see you soon,
And I?ll be home come hell or high water,
And I know I will see you soon.

- Hell or High Water
William Elliott Whitmore

June 7, 2017 - 1:00 PM

Wayne C. Sheppard was released. Never before did he cherish the feeling of a pair of straight legged Levi jeans and boots with shoelaces. The ritual of lacing up his boots had been a tedious affair before he?d been behind bars, now it was a privilege. Even clasping his belt had put a small smile on his face.

But nothing felt like home as much as when he slipped his kutte over his shoulders, fixed it comfortably over his cotton tee shirt. The weight of the leather on his shoulders, he?d traced all of the patches on his chest with his fingertips like a long lost lover. Regardless of his reasons for being in prison, without that leather vest? he hadn?t felt like himself.

With a small pack tossed over his shoulder, he?d tied back those locks of blonde that were long overdue for a haircut. Browning escorted him to the main entrance of the prison. Sizing up Sheppard, he had a half-cocked smile on his face and gave a nod of approval. ?Lot better than orange, Wayne.?

?Wish I could say it was growin? on me, but we both know I look better in leather,? the outlaw chuckled, looking over his shoulder to the guard who crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the heavy metal doors.

?So what?s in store for the ol? Sheppard??

Storm-brewing blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling in decisive thought, but it only took him all of three seconds to respond. Lowering his eyes back to the guard, there was a coy smile tucked behind his whiskers. ?I?m gonna get me a damn Budweiser.?

The laughter that shook Browning?s shoulders was genuine and amused, the shake of his head with eyes that crinkled. ?A Budweiser? Six years, and that?s the brew you?re going for? Thought you?d treat yourself better than that.?

Blonde brows soared incredulously as the biker took a step back, hand to his chest like the man had socked him. ??Scuse you. I grew up on that brew, pal. Watch yaself,? he glowered at the guard who rose his hands, smirking shamelessly in his surrender.

?I?m just saying.. So beer first?? He considered it, lifting his chin as he eyed the larger man. ?Would?ve thought Momma'd come first.?

Shep?s smile was a touch more solemn as he tucked his chin. ?Gonna need that beer for the reunion with Momma.?

?As much as she called, we know it?ll be a good one.? Browning shook his head, shrugging out of his lean against the door.

Shep?s eyes drifted to the door and the thin rectangular block of criss-crossed link window set into the metal, or more through it. ?Sure, she?ll be happy I?m out. But I?ve got a slap I?m pos?tive she?s been reserving since she got that call.? There was a bit of a smirk there, but he?d be lying if he wasn?t a little nervous of facing Momma Sheppard after six years of prison.

?Well, in her defense? you wouldn?t let her visit,? Browning scolded.

Shep winced. ?Didn?t want her to see her son locked up. They can make that room as comfy as you like, but we all know where we are, Brown,? his eyes drifted to the guard, and it was clear he was tired of the topic.

?Fair ?nough, Sheppard.? Browning sighed before smiling broadly, reaching out to give a heavy pat to the outlaw?s shoulder. ?Well, it?s over now. You?re a free man. That being said? What the hell are you doing still talking to me?? The hand slid from Shep?s shoulder and pointed to the door. ?Go on, git!? He barked. You?d think that grin would split his face right in half.

Shep?s hand rose. ?Alright! M?goin?!? A chuckle sang out, and there was a rough pat given to Browning?s shoulder in return. Perhaps for the mock accent he?d told him to ?git? with. There was a grunt from the guard, a warning look that didn?t hold long before he was swinging that metal door open and shoving the outlaw through who grunted in return.

Stumbling out, a lock of blonde slid out from behind his ear into his face as he looked over his shoulder with a smirk. ?I don?t wanna see you back here!? Was the last remark made from Browning before the metal door closed, leaving him to his first breath of fresh, free, air on his own.

Snickering, he looked forward, sweeping that stray lock behind his ear as he looked to the chain link fence on either side of him about fifteen feet away on both sides. The walk lead to the front guard in his little concrete hut, and as much as Shep couldn?t wait to get away from the prison, he stood there for a moment. Blue eyes rolled shut as his lungs expanded, taking in that fresh air opposed to stale. He could hear birds chirping in the distance, the heat that wrapped around him from the beginning of the Southern summer heat. Humid, but it was still refreshing.

Once those eyes had resurfaced, his feet started the walk. It was nothing like walking in, and he could feel the imagined shackles releasing with each step. The weight lifted from his incarceration, his time. He?d paid his dues and now he was a free man, even if it was with help from an impatient lawyer who believed he was ready for release.

He?d reached the front guard, who?d asked his name. With a look to his clipboard, he?d pointed him to a yellow car. He?d had a taxi called for him, ready to take him where he needed to go. His victorious walk toward the taxi was made all the sweeter when he was asked "where to?"

Shep closed the door behind him with the dull knock of creaking metal, his eyes casting out the window for a final look to a place he never wanted to return to. ?Closest bar, pal.?

The taxi driver smiled, whether he understood or not. ?You got it.?
[i:34dee0d3ec][size=9:34dee0d3ec]"Fools," said I, "You do not know:
Silence, like a cancer, grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you.
Take my arms that I might reach you."