KOESTLER AWARD-WINNING WRITING FROM INTRODUCTIONS from MY CHILDHOOD

STIR Editorial Team, HM Prison Shotts This year the Koestler Awards received With such a high standard, judging I used to love it when we moved on the We used to believe in ghosts. We over 8,500 entries, with Scotland’s was a difficult but exciting process road. It was wonderful, especially in the would build big fires outside, piling entries being at an all time high. in deciding who would feature summertime because you did not know on the sticks and we would tell stories. To highlight the quality of work within these very pages. After much where you were going. You could end I remember my Granddad […] would Koestler approached us, the STIR deliberation ‘Home of the Soul’ came up anywhere, just wherever my Mum tell stories about ghosts and all that. editorial team, to collaborate, create to be; a wonderful collection of the and Dad wanted to go. That was good. The entire old travellers used to do that and design this booklet to celebrate talented and creative voices who Then again, sometimes it was terrible. and the kids were fascinated and used and showcase the writing coming out represent Scotland. I’ve seen us just getting to a place and to listen. We called the places where of Scottish prisons. www.stirmagazine.org my Mum wouldn’t even have had time we stayed ‘camps’ and we still do. to put the kettle on for tea, when the We would go into a certain camp and police would arrive and say, ‘Move on, talk about the ghost of this woman or The Koestler Trust move on!’ I remember my folk, my man. We believed in ghosts. We were father saying, ‘I fought for this country brought up that way, a very The Koestler Awards generate This anthology was produced in and we cannae even get peace to stay superstitious people. That’s the way it thousands of entries from across the collaboration with STIR, a magazine on the side of the road. What did I was. The ghost stories were fantastic UK’s criminal justice system and secure featuring writing and artworks by fight for?’ I can understand where and frightening and we kids sat settings. We engage participants in prisoners in Scotland, and edited a wide range of artforms including by a team in HM Prison Shotts. he was coming from. It used to be listening as if we were hypnotized. fine arts, design, music, writing and This anthology will be distributed to annoying sometimes when we were HM Prison Castle Huntly film. In this anthology we reveal some prisons throughout Scotland, as a STIR made to move all the time but now of the ingenious written pieces inspired magazine supplement, as well as to and again it was nice. The police used by the Koestler Awards in Scotland. audiences visiting 183 More Sleeps: to say that they had had a complaint The Koestler Scotland Exhibition about us but I don’t think that was The Koestler Awards support entrants at Summerhall, Edinburgh, 7 – 29 always true. It was just the excuse they by giving them feedback on their work, November 2015. needed to move us on. That’s what we along with the chance to win an award. had all my life. Our exhibitions share their potential The project is supported by the and talent with the public. By fostering National Lottery through Creative engagement and achievement, we help Scotland, with additional support from improve our entrants’ skills, confidence the Robertson Trust and the Souter and employability, which can aid Charitable Trust. rehabilitation and contribute to reducing reoffending. Our thanks go to the editorial team at STIR magazine, staff at New College Lanarkshire, HM Prison Shotts, Summerhall and Traffic Design, for making this project a reality. www.koestlertrust.org.uk

01 02 from QUARRYBOY

Well, to me, the quarry was all kinds of The second part of the quarry was everything; my castle, my playground, abandoned and unused. Its cliff-faces my battlefield, my wizard’s wicked were a patchwork of all-conquering wand-wave. It was my bolthole from all grass and other green stuff. The floor that family affection and cosy delirium. had become a permanent shimmering I went with all my rosy-cheeked friends; grey pond, with thick, squelchy muck of course, being a sad, lonely, little shit, under the water. Which, of course, after their numbers verged upon the a thankfully small fall, one discovered invisible, so it was just I and my after having shoes, socks and shorts shadow. filled with the grey, slimy gunk. One looked like an appropriately startled The quarry had two parts, an mud-mummy! operational part where they blew-up (or down) the cliff-face to extract The unused side of the quarry was stones or massive boulders. I used to where I played, dreamt and vandalised. love the sound of the warning siren, I’d skim stones over the turbid pond, though at first, never knew it was a roll old, abandoned car tyres over the prelude to a massive ‘bang’, a cliff’s edge and watch them bounce, toe-tingling rumble, and a whole spin, then splash explosively into the world of thick, billowing smoke! water. Once, I tried to send an old dumper truck the way of the tyres, but muscles and knowledge of mechanics seemed vague, the dumper truck was left to rot in peace.

HM Prison Castle Huntly

ICE LOLLY old oak tree up high leaves falling, drifting downward Image: 2 Boys, ice lolly melts North Ayrshire Council (Criminal Justice Service) HM Prison Shotts Watercolour on Paper

03 04 Fathir Ah Mother gesse a break! Ah Maw No am no disappointed, but I’m THE TENEMENTS work hard oh week, surely am entitled a bit suspicious how you’ve goat all from The Jimmy Plays tah a couple ah beers oan a Friday? this money efter bein doon the pub Maw I, that’s fair enough, but you hiv drinking weah yur pals? And still hiv tah rememeber tah bring yur wages mare money noo, than whit yur full hame first. No gone doon the pub wage are? Oh maw, it’s a Rangers pub! SCENE ONE Jimmy weah yur pals drinking away ma Fathir Mother I told you, I goat a bonus, Maw That’s awe rite Jimmy, jist don’t housekeeping money fur the week? and a bloody good bonus at that. Maw Jimmy, Jimmy, tell them you support, (Partick-Thistle.) If it wisnae fur wee Jimmy here, gone Maw Well am no gonnae argue (no reply!) Jimmy Snow that maw, it’s jist, ma doon the pub tah get you, we wid still weah you, as long as ave goat ma JIMMY! burds a Celtic fan, if she finds oot a wiz be sittin here without a penny to oor housekeeping money am mare Jimmy Whit is it Maw? in a blue nose pub, she’ll gee me a names, because you’re doon the pub than happy. hellafa time! showin off tah yur pals how good Come own in, a want you to go a Right, am off doon the toon, it’s been Maw a guy yea are! message fur me. Maw Look Jimmy, furget aboot yir burd a while since ave HUD a we bit extra for the minute, it’s mare important you Fathir Awe Mother, whit yae worried money to spend, and thanks tae yur Oh maw am playin fitba weah Jimmy git that auld Fayther oh yours up here aboot? Am here noo, ave goat yur fathers bonus am sitting pretty. Jimmy, the boys. weah some money, before he drinks it money here in ma pocket. here’s that fiver a promised you. Maw Niver mind yur fitba weah the awe! We’ve goat tae eat, and av goat Maw How much have yeah goat left? Jimmy Eh, maw it wiz a tenner yeah boys Jimmy. This joob is mare tae hiv ma fag money for awe week as promised me. important. well. So git doon there an bring him Fathir Plenty Mother, a goat a bonus this week, a wis gonnay tell yeah aboot Maw Oh I that’s right. Silly ME! Here it Jimmy It’s a job maw? back and there could be a tenner in it fur you. it when I goat hame! is. Noo don’t you go and waste it oan Maw Aye it’s a job Jimmy! rubbish, o-right son. Jimmy A TENNER Maw? Don’t say Maw I, am sure you wur! Jimmy Is there ony money in it fur me? anither word, am own ma way. Fathir Honest Mother, ah wiz, anither Fathir What aboot me Mother? Have Maw It depends, there could be! a no tae get any pocket money? Maw I, Jimmy’s a good wee boy really, couple a drinks and ah wiz up the road Jimmy Whut’s the job? yiv jist goat tae know how to work him. anyway. Maw You’ve had enough drink fur one day. But because you brought a big Maw It’s a job only you can dae Jimmy. A bribe way a little money, always does Maw Well yur here noo, so show me the trick fur my wee, sweet, Angelic whit you’ve left, and I am warning you bonus home with you, and to show yea Jimmy AWE MAW! One oh they jobs! Angel. father, it better be pleanty! am no a bad person, here’ twenty quid, Maw A want you to go doon tae the that should keep you gawn fur the rest No need to be like that Mother. one eyed blue parrot pub and tell yir The little B##tard! Fathir of the day, ok? Honest you’ll no be disappointed, wait fayther tae git his arse up here pronto, tah yea coont it. Fathir Ok Mother. and tae bring whit’s left o his wage SCENE TWO Well cheerio; I’ll see you when packet! Maw Three hundred and ninety five, Maw four hundred, four hundred and five I get back. Jimmy Maw that pub’s dangerous, Jimmy A’ve goat him Maw, he’s only pounds, where did you get all this (Door Slams) it’s a dive. A dinnay feel safe gawin a wee bit drunk. money father? doon there! Maw Thanks Jimmy. HM Prison Glenochil Fathir I told you Mother, you widnay be Maw JIMMY, yul be awright, the Catherine Johnson Artistic Now father, how much money have disappointed! chucker oot is yur big Uncle Boob. you got left? Ambition Platinum Award Whose gonnay bother you when big Boob’s there?

05 06 OOR TWO WEE DUGS BARKING IN HEAVEN

From a distance they look the same DEPTH In an instance they sound the same Though both having a different name something sinister signals, They were brought up in the same wee hame circling lone crow, Wans slightly fatter n aulder silhouette overhead, She shakes aboot like she couldn’t be caulder spoils morning glow. The smell a chicken sure gets her attention termagant with bucket, She sits at the door to devour her portion inquisitives in tow. Yins a wee show aff who sings for his mammie lessons in life, He liked nothing more than a good kid-on rammie determined to show. He would never listen when up the park two coloured sandy, A wee softy though he was scared a the dark two coloured snow. There through it all, seen us all come n go four fluff balls, These two wee dugs were the stars a the show far too slow. Great for a cuddle n braw for a kiss gone in an instant, Special wee dugs we won’t forget this never to grow. Image: Feeding Time Again?, HM Prison Edinburgh One was called Oban n one called Troon four wet kittens, Paint on Canvas If you look up to heaven, they’re looking doon lying in a row. BINGO They’re mammie loves them deeply that’s a given HM Prison Barlinnie The bingo yins parked oan the step again Oor two wee dugs barking in heaven Clashing aboot the latest sanctionesses HM Prison Shotts Stoap it! Leave her alane! Culture is the vulture. Fag ash smears the different colours of cotton Laughin’ loud as they ridicule the skint. The cheek ay them, they’re rotten. Tissues fur issues. Facial hair n plooks compete fur space. Yon arises tae attend tae the cries n flies That yin picks wine ower her weans No seen no dream

HM Prison Shotts

07 08 THE FOXFORD THE DUKE AND I Image: Sharp Mind, SHRIMP HM Prison Acrylic on Cardboard

Tagged oval silver A drink too many A tail of red breast feather, I escape the drunken cacophony, Wound to perfection finding solace with my old friend the Duke Like lucky white heather. updating him of my conquest and failures. I light up, A body of seal’s fur the warmth of the embers radiates against my lips, Fiery-brown and black, under the moon drenched streets Oval silver ribbed like an old black and white film. From the front to back. I’m alerted to a presence; Cheeks of jungle cock the distinctive smell of a Blue Lagoon chippy invades my nostrils. A hackle of rich ginger, Too much vinegar, just the way I like it. A red whipped finished head The man retreats into the civilisation of Argyle Street. Perfect for a Springer. A concoction of cheap perfume and alcohol dominates now, accompanied by the echo of heels HM Prison Castle Huntly six inches (I could tell) drawing ever closer to the Duke and I. The Foxford Shrimp – an Irish fishing ‘fly’ used for salmon fishing. They belong to a tall, slim woman; Springer – First salmon of the spring. a pink feather boa half-heartedly drowns her face like a flamboyant snake. She stops, with fag in hand and searches her purse, expensive taste. ‘Need a light’ I call, all gentleman-like. HOME OF THE SOUL A husky voice bellows back, ‘No thanks Sweetheart, I found it’, The lazy blue sea looked delicious in the grey morning light, as it rolled out quietly I realise my mistake. like a giant blue carpet, licking the blinding white sands, crisping the naked rocks. A drag queen. The first salt smell of the sea. A hot wind blowing through the high green forest, Only in . tossing the treetops as they reach to drink from every passing cloud.

The long lift of the brown moorland, coppices of rowans and birches. As the sky HM Prison Shotts darkens to twilight shadows lengthen, there’s a velvet stillness as the spent waves spread themselves out listlessly. This dazzling vista is the true home of the soul.

HM Prison Dumfries

09 10 Image: Untitled, HM Prison Kilmarnock Pen on Paper

RED MICE Inspired by Bukowski’s poem ‘Bluebird’

There are red mice in my head There are red mice in my head they want to get out that wants to get out but I am too clever for them. But I am too clever for them. I say be still, I say be still, be still, I need to focus you shake my nerves You want to confuse my mind? and almost cause exposure. You want to spoil my thinking? You want to jade my memories? There are red mice in my head they want to get out There are red mice in my head but I feed him cheesy dishonesty and that wants to get out poisonous lies. But I am too smart for them. And the shopkeeper and the from Then I get this face, all fake smiles I only free them at dawn THE IRON INN mice-catchers when the sun shines, a stage play (demonstrates). But in my head, I know I'm intelligent, thoughtful, and funny, and the weightlifters when everyone is busy never know I say, I feel your presence, First let me introduce myself. coz let's face it; you need a sense of that they are there dying inside. I know you’re here, I'm Geena. But sometimes I often humour to live in one of these places. Don’t be disappointed. wonder – who actually am I? I'm an And speaking of these places I've been Then I put him back actor, I'm a hairdresser, I'm a sister, in here 11 years, so you could say that but they are squeaky squalling I'm a friend, I'm a ‘lifer’, but I'm also I know the system, I know the screws. And have my heart weeping. a daughter, of a mother with breast I could tell you everything about it and I haven’t let them down cancer. In here, I have this face them, and if anyone knows when they We accompany each other in (demonstrates a cheery face, ‘Hi ya!’), are republishing the rule book, gees troubled times. then I've got this face (demonstrates, a shout, coz I want to know if there's two versions published, the normal a serious sincere face, to the ‘Screws’) HM Prison Low Moss ‘Aye sir, no sir!’ but I also get these ‘standard’ issue rule book, and the ‘[...] faces back (scowls at the audience). house rule book’, because if there are any more rules and regulations in here it's going to be as long as the Bible... anyway here's a sneak peak into our ‘local’ the Iron-Inn. HM Prison & Young Offender Institution Cornton Vale (women’s establishment)

11 12 from SPACE EXPLORATION: JUNKTOWN THE FUTURE OF THE HUMAN RACE

If every star in the night sky is a After all why else are we here? Welcome to junk town. Plug in and change your mind. Wash your hands. possible sun like our own, at the centre Hygiene is a… coffee pot. Just add fuel. Smoking seriously harms you. Probably of its own solar system with multiple Surely not just to burn out and that or that bad cheese you ate. A craving only lasts three minutes. What’s for planets orbiting it, then there are disappear! dinner? Food poisoning… Changing nappies #unhappy. endless possibilities for inhabitable HM Prison Greenock planets and possible inhabitants of It’s that type of fudge you need to have. Every little helps. Aw that stuff like stuck such planets. We know the universe you know like stuck in yae. Say it with…Rice Krispies. Mouthwash, jukeboxes and everything in it was created at the and gasoline. Irreverence is my disease. Money is nature. That’s why Judas wept. same time, consisting of all the same Silly pointless, self-obsessed. The rise of the v-loggers. Can you take it all away? basic materials and processes that us Up to 60% off. Do you think you could minimise? Piracy will never die. From and our planet were made of. To think air-bed to world domination. On the trail of forgotten typewriters. It’s so special anything less is nothing short of blind and unique. I can give you five good reasons to punch a dolphin. There are dying ignorance. ogres and pixies too. This is not like the future but I sense it’s right up there. If man could put aside their petty Moon pic… what a time to be alive. But you can’t water a camel with a spoon. differences and work together on a Swallow but nothing’s forgiven. Balderdash: noun. 100metre race for the follicly global scale, we could focus our challenged. The grey chapter. You can plug it into your phone. Switch that sound combined intelligence and resources that we didn’t know was there and turn it into a distant hum. There’s no leaving on the challenges we all face as a now. Look up! species, to ensure the survival of the human race. For the sake of mankind HM Prison Barlinnie we should all think more of ourselves as one man for all men and not always one man for his self. We should all be looking to the stars with such sentiment if we are to ensure the long term future of mankind.

Image: Mismatch, HM Prison Perth Acrylic on Board Gustave Courbet Highly Commended Award

13 14 SOPHIE HILL

In her home town in the city, Then came the call to Afghan A tear ran down his blackened cheek She never wanted to look weak A British soldier stood, As it had for those before The blast had burned his skin She kept it all inside Watching people walking past, Another bloody chapter He wished that he was still at home The horrors that she’d seen that day As long as she possibly could In an endless futile war Surrounded by his kin She did her best to hide Reluctantly she stepped away The fighting happened every day The medic moved beside him She blamed it all upon herself And boarded the last train No man was left behind As he began to groan The guilt it took her fast Leaving for her barracks But in this strange environment She told him that he’d make it She should have saved his life that day As her parents stared in pain The blind just led the blind And that he was not alone Not lost him to the blast In her mind she saw again They went out in a vehicle She patched him up as best she could Once her tour had finished The posters in her town To make a show of force He began to lose all fight And she went on R&R Urging her to join the fight Until a strange new object She told him to keep talking Back home with her family And serve her Queen and crown Made them all change course But his eyes had lost their light She headed for the bar She didn’t have another job Someone went to check it out She had to hold in all her tears Drowning out her sorrows She couldn’t face the dole To see what it could be As she tried to bring him back She knocked back more and more She’d signed up for the Army Cautiously approaching No one could have done a thing She knew she’d reached her limit Excited at her role He fought the urge to flee From the cowardly attack As she spewed across the floor She’d gone through basic training The look of fear upon his face Too much damage had been done By the time she hit her bed Took everything in stride The shattering of glass Her head lay on his chest Too smashed to even think She’s pushed through her pain limits The windows of the vehicle broke She kept on saying sorry Her brain was numb to nightmares And instilled a little pride From the force upon the blast That she’d really tried her best Because of all the drink A medic’s what she wanted to be She’d trained for all this terror Her Captain pulled her off the ground The same thing happened every day To save her comrades’ lives So she ran out of the door Away from blood and bone Her family saw her fall Helping people’s brothers, sisters Towards the injured soldier A crimson river formed from death They couldn’t prise out anything Husbands or their wives. As he lay upon the floor He lay there on his own About her tour at all When she’d passed her training The soldier felt so useless The body was recovered She felt it was her duty now She’d taken all on board As his gun he could not use By her comrades all around To deal with this alone A first class Army medic He wasn’t fighting Taliban This wasn’t meant to happen It was her guilt to carry Vast amounts of knowledge stored Just a package with a fuse This was the point she drowned So she kept her grief unknown Ready for what lay ahead Left bleeding on the roadside Every time she closed her eyes Even if there was someone Even though she had no clue Hit by whistling stones She saw it all unfold That could have understood Whatever problems she would face That left him there upon his back The carnage burned within her skull She’d still have searing memories She’d know just what to do With badly broken bones The horrors all retold It wouldn’t do her any good

15 16 SOPHIE HILL (CONTINUED) MY WEE MAW

The distance grew from everyone She walked towards the package She’s a navvy workin’ down a hole From family and friends Her stomach like a stone She’s the twenty pack of consulate menthol She hid away from all the noise She made her peace with God above And prayed that it would end And acted on her own She’s ma wee Maw She suddenly was ripped away She lay down on the package She’s the Johnny Walker blended whisky From the daydream in her mind As she murmured one farewell She’s the china tea set and the green tea cosy The last train to her barracks stopped To her family back in Scotland She’s me wee Maw Her strength she tried to find And her comrades there as well She’s ‘my Yiddish mama’ on an old 78 Deep in thought at what had passed A muffled soft explosion She’s the best leg of lamb on the perfect plate The whole train journey through As the ground began to shake She tried to shake it off because Her body blown across the floor She’s ma wee Maw She had a job to do Too much force to take She’s that extra fiver to see you alright It was time to go back now No one heard her cry or moan She’s ‘Dave Allan on Saturday Night’ To where it all began They never heard her shout She’s ma wee Maw To the nightmare in her head Her aim to keep her comrades safe Of Afghanistan In her mind there was no doubt HM Prison Shotts Her R&R was over now Civilians started gathering She headed back to base As the helicopter came Her mind had given up at last To carry off this brave young lass Gone without a trace A pawn lost to the game She arrived a different person No doubt the Taliban looked on No emotion on her face To cheer this all day long Her body there in Afghan One infidel less to interfere Her mind another place Where she did not belong A call came through the radio To sacrifice herself that day A suspicious package lay Took courage, strength and will The troops they gathered up their things No one will forget the name of And went out on their way Medic Sophie Hill. Image: Life of Betty, They assessed the situation HM Prison Glenochil Kibble Safe Centre And they scanned the area too (Secure children’s home) But the medic had to act now Mixed Media Sculpture And she knew just what to do Pat & Bill Gordon U18s Special Award

17 18 THE KOESTLER SCOTLAND EXHIBITION Open daily 11am – 6pm 7 – 29 November 2015

Summerhall Koestler Trust 1 Summerhall Tel: 020 8740 0333 Edinburgh EH9 1PL Email: [email protected] Web: koestlertrust.org.uk Tel: 0131 560 1580 Web: summerhall.co.uk koestler.trust @KoestlerTrust

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Image Above: Cover Image: Beach Pier, A Sharp Exit, North Ayrshire Council HM Prison Edinburgh (Criminal Justice Services) Paint on Paper Watercolour on Paper