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In the near future, a grim reality awaited those convicted of crimes deemed worthy of the ultimate punishment. In this dystopian tale, inmates found themselves transformed into jesters, their lives forever chained, both figuratively and literally. Forced to live as permanent clowns, they were condemned to wander the halls of a prison, their voices silenced, their every movement imbued with a twisted sense of amusement. Visitors were occasionally permitted inside the prison walls, and it was then that the jester inmates were compelled to perform ridiculous shows, entertaining the onlookers with their forced jests. Among the countless inmates sentenced to this bizarre existence was a young woman by the name of Lily. The day of her arrival at the jester prison was a moment forever etched in her memory. As the towering, iron-clad gates swung open, she stepped hesitantly into a realm she had never imagined. The air was heavy with a lingering sense of despair, the very aura of the prison seemingly suffocating. Lily was led through a labyrinthine maze of arched hallways, her footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. The occasional distant laughter only served to intensify the gravity of her situation. Eventually, she found herself in a dimly lit chamber, where a row of jester costumes adorned the walls. Her heart pounding, Lily approached the table in the center of the room, where a pair of somber prison guards stood solemnly. They handed her a vividly striped outfit, its colors appearing almost garish against the bleak backdrop of the prison. She unfolded the costume, and to her astonishment, she discovered that every piece of clothing was intricately adorned with tiny bells. Like a discordant symphony, these bells would jingle with each step she took, an audible reminder both to herself and others of her new existence as a jester. Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, Lily began to undress. She carefully removed her ordinary attire, relinquishing them to a forgotten past. As she donned the striped vest and pants, it felt as though she was putting on a persona rather than a mere costume. In that singular moment, Lily transformed from a person into a representation of mockery, forever confined to the role of the fool. Next came the oversized, floppy shoes. Each shoe was comically enormous, making it near impossible to walk with grace or dignity. The discomfort of the ill-fitting footwear only served to amplify Lily's sense of powerlessness. Lastly, she reached for the iconic clown wig, vibrant and unruly, a crown of absurdity. As she adjusted the wig upon her head, she caught her reflection in a cracked mirror. The once familiar face gazed back at her, now distorted by exaggerated makeup and a painted-on smile which concealed her inner turmoil. Dressed in her jester uniform, Lily took her first hesitant steps into the prison's central courtyard. The jingling of her costume's bells seemed to reverberate throughout the desolate space, filling the air with an eerie soundtrack to her sorrow. For the remainder of that day, and every day thereafter, Lily's existence became a monotonous routine. She walked the prison's halls, her chains dragging at her ankles, her voice forever suppressed. Her days melded together, each one more indistinguishable than the last. When visitors were allowed into the prison, Lily would be shuffled onto a makeshift stage, forced to perform clownish antics for their fleeting amusement. With every exaggerated stumble, every ridiculous gesture, she begrudgingly obliged, her self-worth fading further into the shadows. In the solitude of her cell, Lily would often imagine a different world, a world where chains did not bind her and ridicule did not define her. A world where she could exist as nothing more than herself, free to express her thoughts and dreams without being trapped in the perpetual mockery of a jester's existence. But in the jester prison, such dreams were nothing more than a desperate flicker in the darkness, for Lily and countless others like her were destined never to escape the irony of their fate. The jingling of bells would forever echo, a constant reminder of their transformation into permanent clowns, bound by invisible chains that would follow them to their grave.

My name is Diana Saint, and for the next 6 weeks I will be travelling outside of Los Angeles to the outskirt deserts of California where the largest prison complex in the state is located. Originally designed for male inmates, the prison was changed to a women's prison following the increase in female criminality over the last ten years. Such inmates we will interview in a six part documented series. have agreed to tell their stories from behind the bars of the maximum security prisons. Each episode I will be interviewing an inmate here, Each of them serving life terms, some with chance of parole some that will remain in custody until their deaths. A daunting thought, but many of these women are in here because they made poor choices, or simply deserve to be punished for what crimes they committed...do they deserve the sentences handed to them or is their chance for redemption? As I sat in the prison visitor area which had been given to us for the day to interview, I heard the

The Emily Tisdale and Harper Littleton story told by Emily Tisdale (AmeliaLockheart7) Introduction I always wanted to have an American Christmas. Growing up in the United Kingdom, I always loved to watch movies that represented the holiday season, it gave you a sense of magic. The falling of snow, the decorations of red and green, the gathering of family around the feast of food. Who would think that these things I would never enjoy again. I could only imagine how my life was going to change. I sat shivering on a corrections bus full of other criminals heading to Liddell Correctional facility, Even with the thick orange coats, black and white jumpsuits, we were all cold. You could hear my shackles rattle along the metal floor in sync with the chains of the other women. For me, at least it helped drown out the tears of the broken prisoners on this bus. I sat feeling stiff as I saw my cold breath evaporate through the

"So what have we got today here, Jack? A whore?" "Nah, just a pretty thief. Shopkeep caught her carrying off a whole bag of oats." "Hah! Maybe those lanky legs are cause she's part horse!" Elke just tried to ignore the guards' comments. Getting riled up wouldn't help, and lashing out especially wouldn't. That was how she'd made it here despite constant leering and groping by her captor, after all. "Think that dress is stolen too? Looks a bit too good for a street filcher!" "I wonder! Well, best not leave her her prize, then - come on, lads!" Then again, thought Elke as the guards began ripping the dress she had bought with her own honestly-earned money last year from her body, maybe there were times when a little lashing out was warranted. The last straw was when one of them abandoned all subtlety and reached right between her legs. At which point one of Elke's feet went right between his, causing him to stagger back in pain. The other guards also stepped back, although