Frank Morris, John Anglin and Clarence Anglin allegedly became the only prisoners to escape from the prison on Alcatraz Island on June 11, 1962.
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Frank Morris, John Anglin and Clarence Anglin allegedly became the only prisoners to escape from the prison on Alcatraz Island on June 11, 1962.

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Joseph in Prison
Artist: Louis de Boullogne (French, 1654–1733)
Date: 1733
Medium: Oil on canvas
Collection: Musée Bossuet, Meaux, france
Description
The painting depicts a story from Genesis 40. It captures Joseph accurately interpreting the dreams of Pharaoh's imprisoned chief butler and chief baker, setting the stage for his eventual rise to power in Egypt.
(A Warning)
Chapter 2
Quiet as it may seem, I know well enough to not let that deceive me. I glance around further, taking note of the toilet in the corner. It was barely a detail honestly, and there was no sign of a way to flush. Also, to my misfortune, bolted into the floor.
I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Another boring ass cell..." I mumble, speech slightly impaired. -Probably drugged me...- my thoughts floating off in my own head. I take a few uneven steps, trying to mull over where i am.
-What was the last thing I saw...- I try to remember, but it's like trying to distinguish 2 ants from the heights of Autolycus. I, for a moment, start to distinguish something despite. A face, distant and out of focus. Still...looking at it gave me a strange calmness filled with horror. A mix which combines with the throbbing pain suddenly springing out of my temple.
-Remember...
-Need to remember...
- need to remember what?
-Run! You need to run!
-Don't trust H-
SLAM
A loud noise stirs my ears, metal food door in the cell rising open with an electronic whir. It was a strangely high pitch, and hearing it made my body feel warm, attention dragged from the previous thought. My body pulled forward on it's own, as if on pure instinct to the food-hatch.
Sweet familiar notes brush my nostrils. I barely even notice that my mouth is partly open, a strand of saliva traveling down my face. It smelled so good...that floral aroma...
"But.....they died back when..." I say aloud, soaking in the scent and being brought into a memory. I remember the lush and blooming lavender fields, though the surrounding area was like a fog plaguing a battlefield. Still, she is visible, if only a silhouette.

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