Group Fan Fic 1
Anyone can join in and add to the story, bring in characters and adapt the story as we go. Please keep it PG rated so everyone can view it. Main rule is to let people know who is taking on the next part by posting a message that they plan on working on it. This must then be posted within 48 hours of the message and if not someone else can continue the story.

It was the first night inside the prison cell, bare-walled and covered throughout in peeling pale green paint. Unfamiliar noises robbed her of any hope of sleeps she could hear peoples voices from outside the grubby, barred window of opaque glass. Some were tense, uncertain. Others were almost arrogant, mocking in their tone if not in what they said. Some people had conversations, banal and pointless, while others could be heard screaming and muttering to themselves. She was lucky she had a single cell tonight but she knew that tomorrow she would be moved onto B Block and would only then meet the fellow inmates. Her whole body felt cold with just a thin, faded blanket for warmth and a worn and musty mattress for comfort. No matter how hard she tried her surroundings kept her from sleep until through sheer exhaustion she fell into an uneasy slumber. Almost immediately she was awoken.

The sound of the barred gate being drawn back grated on her very soul. She walked through four of these and each time the sound shocked her as much as the last. Each time was exactly the same, the grim-faced guard escorting her exchanging some minor, stilted small talk with their similarly attired and unsmiling counterpart wielding the door keys. Big, heavy keys, seemingly dozens of them on a large steel ring, just like in all those films she had seen. Faces, endless faces stared at the new girl, she saw people whispering at the sides of her. Snatches of things could be heard, distorted by her fear. Some of the comments were answered with snorts of laughter, a cruel and empty laughter. She kept her eyes down looking at the floor and committed herself to not making eye contact with anyone. She blinked away tears as they formed, hoping that her blonde hair, though now limp and unloved, would conceal such outward signs of weakness. It also kept her from seeing Fran, who was observing her quizzically from the upper level.

Each step felt like ten and even though the building was clearly fairly modern, each footfall echoed off every hard surface. It was as though the place fell silent around her, conversation stopping moments before she arrived before striking up again spontaneously once she had passed. Walking a few dozen metres seemed to last forever. Finally, she arrived at her destination, as indicated by a dark blue sign fixed to the wall. There were screw holes in it, she noticed, but it had been fixed to the wall with adhesive tape. Was that to avoid their use as weapons? Come to think of it, isn't that prison slang anyway, screws? What else is there? What if they were taken out for use as weapons? What other weapons might there be?

"Stand on the line." Repeated the voice that filtered through to her. She looked around in the hope of finding understanding but none was forthcoming.
"Stand on the yellow line now." said the figure off to her right. Desperately scraping together her senses she saw a scuffed and faded yellow paint mark near to a small window and moved to it. She could see there was a little office area beyond the thick plastic safety shutter. A few small holes in it were the only feature but there were hundreds of marks - handprints, stains. A face appeared at the other side. It was another guard, a woman in her 40s, her face etched with tension. She could be seen to take a clipboard from the ledge behind the window. She fished a biro from out of a box that stood nearby.
"Name." She spoke in a completely flat tone without the rising inflection that would have made it a question.
She glanced up and held the new inmate's gaze with an icy stare.
"Name." She repeated, still without any emotion.

"C...C...Clare"...."Clare Devine"