Read John M. Glionna's story (thanks, Cory): One night, as the buoy bells clanged and the foghorn moaned, he swore he heard clinking glasses, as if a toast were being made. He hears mice skitter on cellblock floors, and the wind howling outside often seems like crazy laughter.
"This is one creepy place after dark," he said. "It can make the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight."
Keep reading with a membership
This story is for Gangrey members. Join to read it in full, unlock the archive, and support narrative nonfiction.
Become a MemberAlready a member? Sign in
Leave a comment