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//This is the prologue to my new story 'Blood Shed in May', enjoy :]

Dear Estella,
I was thinking the other day, and you remember the time I got in trouble and mom sent me to bed without any supper? I remember she made cake that night and that was the only real reason I was pissed off by it. I remember you came to my room after she went to bed and gave me your slice. I don’t know why I thought of that. It seems like now that I have all the time in the damn world I’m remembering things I thought I’d never remember. I guess it was like when our Aunt Joyce used to say ‘Sometimes you just got to stop and smell the roses.’ Well now I stopped, and smelled, and can’t be on my merry way.
Well anyway I remember a lot of things you’ve done for me, and never really thanked you for it. There isn’t a minute that passes that I don’t think about us growing up in that cramped little apartment. The only thing I remember about Brooklyn, New York though was that the Italians lived on the next block over. That and they would come and beat me and my friends up because we were ’no good Irish.’ Yeah I’m pretty sure that’s what they used to say. What fools were we? I guess we were just acting upon a little rush of blood to the head. That’s the excuse I use for everything now. ‘It was just a rush of blood to the head..nothing major.’ Hell couldn’t use that in the court room, would of thought I was mad or something. Which I reckon isn’t a total lose. Aunt Joyce went to an asylum and seemed fine when she came out. We both know I’m lying though. I once caught her sticking a fork into an outlet. I guess she got a little too much joy out of the EST there. Glad they don’t have it here. Bet it would get my mind straight though, real quick.

I’m writing for a reason, if you wanted to know. By now you probably heard of my transfer from San Quentin to Alcatraz. I was a little too violent and had a little disagreement with another inmate (or few). So they took me here, to Devils’ Island. That’s all I’m willing to say about it. Maybe one day I’ll tell my whole story, but not now. I really don’t want to remember it. Well anyway, I don’t want you to visit here Estella. You know that there are few things in my life (or what used to be my life) that bugged me. Well every time I think about you coming here to see me it annoys me. I don’t want you to see me like this. I know you too well to know you’ll go against my judgment. But do you really want to step foot on this horrible, evil place and know your brother is behind those cold concrete walls, and may never get out? Just think about it, long and hard, and it will bug you too. Then maybe you’ll know how I feel. It isn’t that I don’t love you Estella, you’re my baby sister, and I spent well of my teenage years beating up anyone who dare said anything horrible about you. This is the only way I can still protect you from where I am. I mean I can’t protect you like I used to, but this is the best way I can.


There‘s another reason I am writing too. You need an explanation for all the bad things I’ve done. I remember mom asking me where I went astray. When I finally thought that no one, especially the law, had no effect on me. I guess it was the day dad died. You were two so you probably don’t remember this. You probably don’t remember him being the disciplinary parent either. Well every time I acted up he would hit me, spank me, or if I was lucky just yell at me. I reckon the day he died though I thought that since he was gone there was no one to punish me when I did something I wasn’t supposed to. Mom, well you know how she acted when I came home with the police, or a busted lip, she would give me the silent treatment, and then the next day she sounded like a broken record. ‘Darling, are you sure you should do that? Sweetie, I don’t think that’s a good idea, maybe you should stay inside today. Honey that’s just too dangerous, I forbid you to do it.’ She just made things worse than they actually were. You remember this? Well I don’t know how you couldn’t, you were caught in the crossfire, and I apologize for this.
Listen after what I did that landed my a** in here forever more; I felt really bad. I mean, yeah, not only did I do what I did, but I knew that you still weren’t able to live on your own. And I think that’s what got me. You had no where to turn. I know what ever I say can’t change a sin, but I’m sorry Estella. I never thought that it would be like this. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be at Alcatraz, and do something so vile as I did. It was an honest accident, and I stand by that. I’m terribly sorry Estella, again. Now that I look at my teen years and all the things I’ve done, I put you and mom through hell. I’m a foolish man. You stayed by my side though and refused to give up on me, even when mom did. And I love you for this. You accepted me even when our family wanted to disown me and put me into a correctional facility. I regret thinking I could run from the law, because no one can. Like I said, I’m a foolish and selfish man…………….


If I ever make it back to society (which will take a miracle) then I’ll work hard. I’ll get a job and get some pardons, and make you proud of me sis. I’ll try to be the best inmate Alcatraz ever saw so I can transfer, then hopefully try to get parole and get out of this life. I need to prove to them that I’m not a danger to anyone. Which I’m not. I’m done running from the law, crime is just a fools' paradise now that I think about it. It’s just a dirty lie, and it cheats who ever falls into it. I just want to be a part of society again, not an enemy of it.
Sometimes when the wind blows right here, I can hear the sounds of San Francisco. People laughing, and music playing. I want to be a part of that again. Seeing San Francisco shows me what I gave up for this life. And I don’t like it, not one bit of it. I’m sick of being a hallow number, I want to be Thompson Scott Gunn again, more than anything. I don’t want to be AZ105, the one who killed his mother. I want to be Tommy Gunn, successful business man. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

You loving brother,
Thompson

//The biggest problem I face with this is I feel that I have some parts in it that I don't need, and that I ramble on. If I could get some help with those two things then I would appreciate it