Chapter 5: Excited ghost
Fifteen years. Fifteen endless years behind cold iron bars. To Henry, life in prison had become a cruel echo of lost dreams, a shadow that never stopped following him.
Each morning felt like a battle just to breathe, and each night, a long stretch of silence that reminded him of everything he had lost. The walls were tight, the days repetitive, and the pain constant.
Yet in that sea of despair, he found two anchors — Harrison and Templeman. They were more than inmates; they were brothers forged by suffering, bonded by shared pain.
The three prayed together each morning before the sun rose, asking God for mercy, for strength, and for the chance to see freedom once more.
At night, before their weary eyes closed, they prayed again — sometimes with hope, other times in desperation.
Despite the misery, they kept a fragile ember of faith alive — the belief that their stories weren't finished yet. That somehow, someday, the world would remember them, and fate would grant them one more chance to live.
Henry had not stopped thinking about Jane.
Fifteen years later, and her face remained as vivid in his mind as it was the day he saw her last. The sound of her laughter, the curve of her smile, the light in her eyes — they haunted and comforted him all at once.
She had promised to stand by him, but life doesn't always follow promises. The reality was cruel — Jane had disappeared from his life when things got hard.
He didn't blame her completely. He understood. People change. Time moves on. But the hole she left never quite healed.
He missed her. Every single day.
And then, one quiet afternoon, the unexpected happened.
The state government, in celebration of its second anniversary in power, announced an act of mercy. Six inmates across various prisons were to be granted amnesty — a rare and hopeful gesture.
The names were read out slowly, one after another. The moment Henry heard his name, he froze. Harrison's name followed. Then Templeman's. For a moment, the world stopped.
Could it be real?
The three men stared at each other, speechless, eyes wide with disbelief. Then came the tears — not silent or gentle, but wild and free. Laughter mixed with weeping. Shouts of praise rang out across the cell block.
Henry dropped to his knees.
"God… thank you," he whispered, his voice cracking.
As they were led out through the long corridor of the prison — a path they had walked a thousand times in routine — everything felt different.
The gates, which once mocked them, now stood wide open, like arms ready to welcome them back into life.
The sunlight stung their eyes as they stepped into freedom. The air — fresh, cool, clean — wrapped around them like a blanket. It felt strange. Beautiful. Overwhelming.
It had been so long since they had felt the sky without a ceiling, the breeze without bars.
They stood just outside the prison gates, unable to move. Henry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the moment. Tears streamed down his cheeks again, but this time they were warm, not bitter.
Harrison clutched Templeman's hand, and the three embraced in silence, their bodies shaking from emotion.
"Twenty years," Harrison said in a trembling voice. "I thought I'd die in there."
"Eighteen for me," Templeman replied, his face wet with tears.
"Fifteen," Henry murmured. "But it felt like a lifetime."
"Ultimate end!" Harrison suddenly shouted, laughing and crying all at once.
"At last!" Templeman echoed, his voice raw with emotion.
They laughed. They sobbed. They held onto each other as though letting go would send them back inside.
But the world was waiting. And slowly, painfully, they began to part ways — not with a goodbye, but with the unspoken understanding that they would always carry each other in their hearts.
Henry had one thought on his mind: Jane.
He needed to see her. More than his parents, more than any familiar face — it was Jane he wanted first. To see her again. To see if she had waited. To ask if she still remembered.
If she had ever forgiven him. If her heart had ever, even briefly, held on to him.
"She'll be shocked," he whispered to himself, half-smiling as he pictured her face.
But as he walked away from the prison, excitement quickly turned into confusion.
The world he had left was no longer the same. Buildings had risen where trees once stood. Streets were renamed. New faces everywhere. Old stores gone. Familiar signs replaced.
He turned corners he thought he knew only to find strangers and silence. He searched for landmarks — anything that would help him remember — but nothing remained.
His heart raced.
He had no phone. No wallet. No money. No address book. Jane's last address was long gone from memory, and even if he knew it, he couldn't afford a ride to get there.
His clothes — given to him at release — were plain and unfitting, and people glanced at him with cautious eyes as he walked by.
He stopped under the shade of a tree and leaned against it, overwhelmed.
"Where are you, Jane?" he whispered, wiping sweat from his forehead.
He thought of asking someone for help but didn't know where to begin. He was a ghost in a new world.
After a few more fruitless hours wandering, hunger and exhaustion began to creep in. Reality settled like dust on his shoulders — he was free, yes, but freedom without direction was just another kind of prison.
There was only one place left to go. One hope still flickering in his heart.
Home. His parents.
If they were still alive. If they had not moved. If they still thought of him. If they could recognize the man he had become.
With no other option, Henry turned toward the direction of his old home, relying on memory and instinct. It was a long shot — but it was all he had.
Each step he took was heavy with uncertainty. But deep inside, a new resolve was forming. He had been given a second chance at life, and he would not waste it.
Even if Jane was gone.
Even if nothing was the same.
He would find a way. Somehow.
" Trust ! It 's just a matter of time."