The Prison

By Sara Claro

Filipa is an average 16-year-old girl leading an ordinary life until a catastrophic night changes everything. Witnessing the destruction of her beloved city and the cold-blooded murder of her parents by black-masked men, Filipa flees for her life. However, her escape is short-lived as she is apprehended and finds herself incarcerated in a prison run by masked men with chess symbols on their arms. Every day, scores of inmates vanish or perish, and more prisoners arrive.

As Filipa learns more about the prison, she realizes that each chess symbol denotes a masked man’s position and role. She is subjected to gruelling physical and psychological examinations, administered mysterious serums, and witnesses strange phenomena. Her mission is to uncover the masked men’s identities, their motives, and above all, rescue her friends and save her love interest. However, the true test lies in surviving the prison after she discovers a shocking secret that will change her life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035802906

Sara Claro

Sara Claro is a 24-year-old Portuguese girl, currently working in retail. She discovered her passion for writing due to a depression when she was only 15. Since then, she never stopped. She moved to London by herself when she was 20 years old, and stayed there for two years. In London, she worked in sales and was able to learn English. In December 2019, she came back to her hometown, in Lisbon, where she’s currently living.

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About the Author

Sara Claro is a 24-year-old Portuguese girl, currently working in retail.

She discovered her passion for writing due to a depression when she was only 15. Since then, she never stopped.

She moved to London by herself when she was 20 years old, and stayed there for two years. In London, she worked in sales and was able to learn English.

In December 2019, she came back to her hometown, in Lisbon, where she’s currently living.

Dedication

To my sister, for helping me make this story and make my dream come to life.

To my parents, who always encourage me to follow my dreams.

To those who always believed, sometimes even before I did.

To all the readers, I hope you like this story as much as I do.

Copyright Information ©

Sara Claro 2023

The right of Sara Claro to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035802890 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035802906 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

To my sister, Marta Filipa Claro, who helped me create the story; I couldn’t have done it without you.

To Caio Nunes, who translated it to English, thank you for being true to my words.

Chapter I

The Last Day

It was quite a normal day. I went to school, a bit against my will and quite drowsy, as you would expect from any normal 16-year-old girl. I listened to my History teacher dating events of extreme importance about some old dead guys. I listened to my Portuguese teacher – who was delighted with poems from some other old dead guy – and curiously, in Literature class, I heard a different poem by the same dead guy. Yes, I know what anyone would think: Fascinating… But to me, it really was.

After my classes, I went to visit the library to study for a bit. While I waited for my friends, who were part of a different class and, as such, had unfortunately, a slightly different schedule than mine – which, for any teenager, corresponds to a crisis equivalent to the end of the world. As I said, it was just another day, exactly the same as any other.

As soon as we got together, my little group headed to the beach, which was just a fifteen-minute walk from the school. Perhaps one of the best aspects of that school was precisely being so close to the sea. Oh, how we loved the sea.

It was the first day of December. There was warm sunshine, but also the typical cold of late winter. The beach was cosy and quiet, as usual. That beach was our sanctuary. We went there in the winter as often as in the summer. The cold didn’t bother us. The sand, the sound of the sea, and the noise of laughter and joking around were the only things that truly existed there.

Filipa, you’re very quiet. What’s up with you? David was addressing me, and observing me quite carefully.

David was my oldest friend, and he was like a brother to me. He was of average height, thin, with dark hair and skin. He was the kind of friend who always knew when something was going on with any of us. He was the most empathetic person I knew. An hour spent in his company was always enough to calm my spirits and put me in a good mood. He was also the one who kept everyone’s secrets, and so he did for us – he kept us safe – especially his girls.

Don’t tell me you got a bad grade! This time, it was Rodrigo who spoke, in a sarcastic tone.

Rodrigo was the ‘class clown’ of the group, and the most sociable of us. He had an adventurous spirit, he liked to play sports, especially basketball and body board. But his real talent – excuse the cliché – was girls. A handsome 16-year-old boy, tall, dark, with soft hazelnut hair, green eyes, an enviable physique and an extremely sharp sense of humour is the magic recipe for having pretty much all the girls he wished for. The truth is, he was the opposite of the rest of the group, (however, I think all friend groups work like this: there is always an extrovert who is ‘adopted’ and, apparently, has nothing to do with the rest of the group).

It’s okay, guys, I’m just a little sleepy. I went to bed late. That was my good-old excuse. And it rarely failed. I mean, it failed a few times, just not with Rodrigo.

Just leave the girl in peace! Diana always defended me, but she also always understood me.

I knew that later she would ask me if my silence was really because I was lacking sleep. At that moment, it actually was.

Diana was probably the link who connected our group. She was Rodrigo’s best friend, as they had known each other since they were five years old, and their families were very friendly. They were practically raised together. She was also the great passion of David’s, who had never had the courage to reveal his feelings to her.

Diana was, in everyone’s eyes – except for her own, a gorgeous girl. She had black hair with perfect waves, which contrasted with her light eyes, between a deep blue and an emerald green, giving her a mystical and mysterious air. She also had an enormous talent for drawing and science. And her visual memory was practically infallible. She was perhaps the smartest and most talented person I had ever met.

After a few hours spent on the beach, we all returned home. That day, the city seemed strangely empty and silent. There were few cars to be seen on the street, many of the house lights were off despite