Karly Noonan

The Tourist

As I sat here, on a slightly damp rock, I noticed that I was fixating a little too long on a tree in the distance. It was perfectly symmetrical and hung over luscious green grass that was lit up by lights planted at the base of the tree. A loud clap of thunder brought me back to my present thought, and the circumstances that had led to this very moment. I was here, on this rock, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak into the prison remains. I knew that if I was going to go unseen I had to wait until the next tour group was taken into the prison.