Chapter Text
Crowley was sitting in his bunk staring at the wall. There was nothing to do, but there was never anything to do. He finished his book already and couldn’t go to the library until tomorrow, hence the staring at the wall. Crowley has spent a lot of time in the past year staring at this wall. It never changes.
“Crowley, mail.” Smith, the guard calls. The mail is slid though the tiny slot in the door to the cell.
Crowley goes to pick it up. It is a single white envelope. There is his name on the front. The return address is Soho, London. How he misses London, being lost in the crowd. Who would be writing Crowley? No one from his old life has contacted him since his arrest.
Crowley turns the letter over, going to open it. It has already been opened, of course the guards check the mail. Crowley pulls out a single piece of stationary. It is actual stationary too rather than lined paper ripped out of a notebook or printer paper. It has weight to it and is a soft cream color that matches the envelope. Opening the folded paper, the writing looks old fashioned, like the writing in those BBC historical dramas. Who does Crowley know that writes actual letters on real stationary? The name on the bottom of the letter says Ezra Fell. Crowley is pretty sure he has never met an Ezra Fell. Suddenly Crowley remembers the pen pal program he signed up for months ago. He never imagined someone would actually write to him. Also thought it would be though email, not an actual, honest to Someone, handwritten letter.
Dear Mr. Crowley,
My name is Ezra Fell. I found your profile on the website for Tadfield Prison’s Pen Pal Program. I admit that I’m not sure what to write but my friend Tracy is encouraging me to make more friends. I never had a pen pal before but I thought this could be fun.
I guess I should tell you a little about myself. I live and work in Soho, London. I own and run a bookstore. It is mostly antiques but I do keep some modern, popular stuff so the customers keep their hands off the first editions. I also run a book binding and restoration business on the side. This is where my true passion comes in. My favorite feeling is seeing a old book come back to life.
I should like to hear from you, if you wish to be pen pals. I understand if you don’t. I can be reached at the address below.
Sincerely,
Ezra Fell
Ezra was working on restoring a first edition of Pride and Prejudice when he heard the mail drop though the slot. He spent the last week and half trying not to get his hopes up. Why would a prison inmate want to talk to him? Why would anyone? He was a stuffy old bookseller and had nothing to offer the world.
Tracy encouraged him to make more friends. She was encouraging Ezra to join a book club or start one because he owned a bookstore. He went to the computer in the back of his shop and tried the Google. He did not find any book clubs he wanted to join. Despite loving books, Ezra had a hard time with book clubs. They tended to go off topic and they usually read the modern books he didn’t like.
After a bit of fruitless searching, Ezra typed “how to make friends” into the search engine. Somehow this search lead him to the Tadfield Prison website. There was a program wherein you could be pen pals with an inmate. This sounded like something that could work for Ezra. He could make a friend and not have all that nonsense about awkward meetings with long pauses and no one knows what to say. Plus, Ezra has always dreamed of having a pen pal.
He picked Anthony Crowley based on his picture. Red hair and honey golden eyes. He was beautiful. The page didn’t say why he was in prison but did include that Anthony liked plants and astronomy. He has spent most of his time in prison reading his way though the library. Maybe they could have a book club of two.
Ezra wrote the letter and sent it off before he lost his nerve. When Tracy came around for dinner a couple of days later, his lack of friends came up again.
“Did you look into a book club?” she asked.
“You know I don’t like those modern books,” he replied.
“You need to get out there and meet someone. I thought if you meet at a book club, you would at least have something to talk about.”
Ezra sighs. This wasn’t just about having friends, Tracy wanted him to meet “someone.” Ezra had given up on meeting someone in a romantic sense. It had been 2 years since Gabriel and Ezra was fine now. He didn’t need more heartbreak.
“Dear I don’t need to meet someone. I’m perfectly happy just with my books.” Ezra said glancing at his overflowing bookshelf in the corner.
“Books are not a substitute for company.” She stared him down.
“Yes, well I have you. I’m fine.” Tracy raised her eyebrows in disbelief but fortunately, she dropped the subject. Ezra had the feeling that she wouldn’t let the topic stay dropped though.
A week later and Ezra was trying very hard not to get his hopes up each time he heard the mail come though. It would be just bills again. The shop's bell tinkled. A customer, he’d best go out there and supervise.
It wasn’t a customer, just Anathema, the shopkeeper next to him. She sold witchy stuff, crystals and incense. She liked to come by to bug him about whatever was on her mind. Ezra wondered what it was today.
She was holding his mail and waving it around. She had obviously looked though it because the first words out of her mouth when she saw him come though the door was “Who do you know from Tadfield Prison?”
“No one.” He went to grab it from her. She held it just out of reach.
“Who? I’ll open it and read it if you don’t tell me.” She would make good on this threat too.
“Just a pen pal.” He tried to deflect.
“A pen pal? How did you get a prison pen pal?” Anathema looked like she didn’t believe him.
“Yes, well Tracy suggested I make new friends.”
“And your first thought was to start writing a criminal?”
“Well, no but I found the program on the Google and being locked up must be so lonely, I thought I could help someone. I wasn’t expecting a reply.” He snapped at her. He was a bit embarrassed about writing an inmate.
“Ok. What did they do?” Anathema was turning the letter over in her hands.
“I don’t know. Their profile didn’t say.” Ezra shrugged. It didn’t matter to him what Anthony did to get prison time, he just hoped he hadn’t killed anyone.
“Profile? Is there a picture?” Of course, Anathema wanted a picture.
Ezra show Anathema the profile.
Anthony Crowley
Inmate number: 4004
About: I don’t know what to put here. I like plants and stars. I miss my bed. I am currently trying to read though the library here. Its very boring in here.
Next to the profile was a picture of Anthony. It was taken in the prison based on the orange jumpsuit. He had long flowing red hair and honey golden eyes. While the eyes had strange slit-like pupils, Ezra still thought them the most beautiful he had ever seen.
“That’s it? Not much to go on. His hair is pretty though.” Anathema commented.
“Yes, well, I thought maybe we could write about the books he is reading.” Ezra wrung his hands. Anathema made him nervous.
She raised is eyebrows at him. “Only you would pick someone based on the ability to discuss books. Read the letter.” She finally let him have the letter. It was a standard envelope and the letter itself was on lined paper torn from a composition notebook.
Dear Ezra Fell,
Just call me Crowley, none of that Mr. nonsense. I’ve never written a letter before so apologies ahead of time.
I miss London and Soho. I miss just getting lost in the city. I used to walk for hours going nowhere really, just getting out of the house. Maybe I’ve passed by your shop before. I wasn’t a big reader before my incarnation, but there is literally nothing else to do here. I’m currently reading the James Bond books. I like them, lots of action. What books are your favorite? Do you have any other hobbies?
I thought I was going to get emails when I signed up for the pen pal thing. Your letter on actual stationary was a surprise. A good one though. Sorry about the notebook paper, its all I have.
Crowley
Anathema was looking at him expectantly when he looked up from the letter. Ezra sighed and let her read it. There was nothing scandalous about having a pen pal, even if he was incarcerated.
Yard time was not Crowley’s favorite. He had no group to hang out with, so he stood off to the side. He would rather be in the library. This was a complete 180 from high school, where he was the kid sulking out on the grounds, smoking with his friends and causing mischief. None of those friends knew where he was right now. He didn’t keep in contact after graduation, he was hell-bent on leaving that small town. As fast as he could he moved to London. He somehow found an even worse crowd in London, which is how he ended up here, in prison.
He didn’t mean anything by boosting that car. He just wanted to get away for a day. It was a beautiful car, a Bentley, all sleek lines and black. He saw it on the road and was walking towards it before he was conscious of his decision. He saw a way to get farther from Luci that day. They had had a fight earlier, which was why Crowley was walking though the city. There was no way he was going home just to get the other eye blackened. So, he took the car and just drove, not really caring where he was going. When he stopped for petrol, a cop recognized the car as reported being stolen and arrested Crowley. It was Crowley’s fault for picking a car this time that was so distinctive. In the past, he always picked cars that blended in. Boosting cars wasn’t the best way to deal with his emotions but Crowley wasn’t great at emotions in the first place. He always ran from them. Doing so in a car just allowed him to run faster.
Crowley took another drag of his cigarette and continued watching the yard. The whistle blew signaling the end of yard time. Crowley took the last, very long puff of his cigarette and lined up with the rest of the inmates. They filed quietly inside, branching off to stand in front of their cell doors. The doors buzzed open and Crowley walked inside. There was another inmate in his cell, laying on his bunk. Crowley knew he was probably going to get another cellmate soon but still. It had been two weeks since his last cellmate had been paroled and Crowley had been enjoying the solitude and silence.
Crowley groaned inward and snapped to the inmate, “That’s my bunk.”
The man, kid really, scrambled down from the top bunk. “Sorry, man, didn’t realize they were assigned.”
Crowley suppressed a wince at the use of man. Crowley didn’t consider himself a man despite having that checked on his birth certificate. He used he/him pronouns right now. Today, he/him fit Crowley, but mostly Crowley used he/him because it was the safest in prison. Maybe when he got out, his pronouns would change.
“They’re not. That one is just mine.” Crowley wished for a cigarette even though he just finished one. He had to ration them though. He could only afford one pack a week, so no more than 2 cigarettes a day. He had to save his second for bedtime. He would need it to calm down enough to sleep especially with having to get used to someone being in his space again.
“I’m David Stratton.” The kid had actually held out his hand to shake. Who was this kid? He would need to toughen up.
“Crowley”
Introductions over, Crowley took his book and laid in his bunk. He was reading Pride and Prejudice because Ezra had mentioned it in his most recent letter. The letter fell out of the book when Crowley opened it, he had been using it as a bookmark. He smoothed out the letter to read it again before continuing on with the book itself.
Dear Crowley,
I am so happy that you’ve responded to me. I’ll admit I was worried you’d not want to write me.
How long has it been since you’ve been able to walk the streets? If it was over ten years ago, I’m afraid that I didn’t have my shop at that time. I checked my stock and I do carry some James Bond. Are you allowed gifts? Could I send some reading material? Only I imagine a prison library has limited stock and one does feel better if the books are yours to own.
Most of my hobbies revolve around books in some manner. I like reading, of course. I also restore old books. I love giving new life to the books. Getting them ready to live another new life being loved until they fall apart again. I also collect prophecy books and misprinted bibles.
Being a bookseller, I read a little of everything, but I am particular to nineteenth century novels. I would say Austen is a favorite. I just finished a restoration on a beautiful first edition of her Pride and Prejudice. I may not sell it and instead keep it for my private collection. I do so hate to sell some of my books. I can just never be certain that the buyer will take appropriate care of the book.
I did try my hand at other hobbies besides books but they did not work quite so well. My adventures in baking about burned down my flat, so I tend to head to the nearest cafe if I’m feeling peckish. My venture into knitting yielded similar results, although without the fire. These hands are just better with a book in them than anything else.
I must apologize for the lack of email. I do own a computer and even have a website for the shop but I will admit I’m not technology savvy. I am a little old fashioned and prefer handwritten correspondence.
What are some of your hobbies? Can you do them while incarcerated? What did you do before?
Please get back to me if I can send you something. I wish to cheer your day.
Sincerely,
Ezra Fell