EXTRACT FOR
Male Correction Camp
(Miranda Birch)

Just before six PM, every prisoner in Willowgrove is assembled on the parade ground. They form a huge square, lining each side. In the centre of the square a whipping post has been erected. Every prisoner has to witness a public flogging. It is a salutary reminder of what can happen to them. 



At six PM. prisoner number 8974 is led into the square by means of a chain attached to a heavy collar. he is pale with exhaustion and trembling with dread. Though he has witnessed several public floggings he has never yet received one himself. Now he recalls the awful cries of those who have been flogged. 



As soon as he has arrived, Commandant Reeves comes on to the parade ground and mounts her dais. She is flanked by two Guards, each carrying a bullwhip. His chest is rising and falling fast. Perhaps he is sobbing. 



"Prisoner Number 8974," says the Commandant in a loud voice which carries right round the square, "has been deemed guilty of raising a hand against a Guard." A pause. "He will now receive twenty strokes of the whip." Silence continues to reign. All eyes are fixed on the unfortunate, now rendered helpless. Though the sentence is severe it is by no means the maximum which can be awarded. Floggings of thirty and forty strokes are by no means uncommon. 



The Guards on either side of the Commandant stride towards the whipping post, boots clattering loudly on the asphalt. Both are powerful, broad-shouldered women. They take up positions, one on each side of the prisoner, and wait. 



"Begin the punishment," calls out the Commandant. 



One Guard raises her whip and lashes it across prisoner 8974's back. It cracks like a pistol shot and a bellowing howl bursts from the victim. A long red-purple welt has been raised. There is a five-second pause, then the other Guard raises her whip and lays on a similar stroke from the opposite side. 



It seems impossible to him that he is going to survive twenty such deadly strokes. He thinks he would rather die at that moment. But prisoner 8974 will not die. he will simply suffer to the full. 



Remorselessly, at regular intervals, the strokes continue to fall. 



Cracckkk! 



"Yeeeeooooggggh...!" 



Cracckkk! 



"Yaaiiiieeeeegghhhhh!" 



The terrible sounds fill all who watch with terror. It could be me... it could be me... each one is saying to himself. 



Ten strokes fall across the back. Then the Guards concentrate their attack on the buttocks. After the fifteenth stroke, the prisoner's head slumps down. Instantly, the Commandant holds up her hand. 



"Stop!" 



An attendant Guard hurries forward. In her hand is a bottle which contains ammonia.