The three friends made their way through the gloomy corridors, listening to their audio guide tell stories of the prison's past. They saw the cramped cells where prisoners had been locked up for days on end, the exercise yard where they had been allowed to stretch their legs for just a few hours a day, and the execution chamber where some had met their end.
As they reached the end of the tour, they stumbled upon a small room that hadn't been on their map. The door was ajar, and they peered inside to see a figure hunched over a desk, writing something. The figure looked up and smiled at them, beckoning them inside.
"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to intrude," Shruti said.
"Nonsense, come in, come in," the figure said, gesturing to some chairs in the corner of the room.
The three friends sat down, eyeing the figure warily. She was an older woman with a kind face, but there was something unsettling about the way she looked at them.
"My name is Maggie," she said, "and I used to work here at the prison."
"Wow, that must have been interesting," Sukanya said.
Maggie nodded. "I've seen a lot of things in my time here, both good and bad. But I think what keeps me coming back is the stories."
She leaned forward, her eyes glittering in the dim light. "Would you like to hear a story?"
The friends exchanged a look before nodding eagerly.
Maggie began to speak, her voice low and gravelly. "There was a young woman who was brought here many years ago. She had been accused of stealing bread to feed her family, but she was sentenced to six months in prison nonetheless. She was a quiet one, never speaking to anyone, always keeping to herself. But there was something about her that caught my attention. I don't know what it was, but I felt drawn to her."
She paused, her gaze turning distant. "One day, she came to me and asked if she could borrow a pen and some paper. I didn't think much of it at the time, so I gave her what she needed. But later that night, when I was doing my rounds, I heard a faint tapping coming from her cell. When I looked inside, she was writing furiously, tears streaming down her face."
Maggie's voice cracked, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn't tell me. She just kept writing, and I left her to it. The next day, she was gone. Released, I assumed. But when I went to clean out her cell, I found a letter addressed to me."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, unfolding it carefully. "This is that letter."
The friends leaned forward, intrigued.
Maggie began to read. "Dear Maggie, thank you for being kind to me. I know I didn't speak much, but your presence was a comfort to me. I don't know what the future holds for me, but I do know that I will never forget you. I hope that one day, when I am free, I can repay your kindness. Until then, know that you have made a difference in my life."
Maggie looked up from the letter, her eyes brimming with tears. "I never saw her again, but that letter stayed with me all these years. It reminded me of why I do this job, why I come back to this place every day. Because even in the darkest of places, there is still hope, still goodness."
The friends sat in silence, moved by Maggie's story. After a moment, Shruti spoke up. "Thank you for sharing that with us, Maggie. It's a reminder that even in the most difficult of circumstances, kindness can make a difference."
Maggie smiled. "That's exactly right. And now, it's time for you to go. But before you do, I have a small gift for each of you."
She handed each of them a small stone, smooth and polished. "These stones were taken from the exercise yard, where the prisoners used to walk. They may be just stones, but they represent something much more. Strength, resilience, the ability to endure even in the toughest of situations."
The friends thanked Maggie, each holding their stone tightly in their hands as they left the prison.
As they walked back out into the sunlight, they felt changed, touched by the stories of those who had come before them. And they knew that they would never forget the lessons they had learned at Crumlin Road Gaol.
Over the next few days, the three friends carried those stones with them, feeling the weight and texture of the stones whenever they needed a reminder of their time at the prison. They toured other historic sites in Belfast, but it was the story of the young woman and Maggie's kindness that stuck with them the most.
One afternoon, they decided to take a stroll around the city, taking in the sights and sounds of Belfast. As they walked, they heard the sound of a violin being played, and followed the music to a small park. There, they saw a young girl playing the violin, her notes filling the air with a haunting melody.
Without thinking, the friends sat down on the bench nearby and listened. The girl finished her song, and when she looked up, she saw the three women sitting there.
"That was beautiful," Sukanya said.
The girl smiled shyly. "Thank you. I'm practicing for a concert next week."
"Are you from here?" Subuhi asked.
The girl shook her head. "No, I'm from a small town in Northern Iceland. I'm visiting Belfast with my family."
Shruti glanced down at the stones in her hand, then back up at the girl. "I have a question for you. What does strength mean to you?"
The girl looked confused. "Strength? I don't know. Maybe being able to play the violin in front of people, even if I'm nervous?"
Shruti nodded. "That's a good answer. But for me, strength means something different. It means being able to endure difficult times, to keep going even when things seem impossible."
The other two friends nodded in agreement.
The girl looked at them quizzically. "Why are you asking me this?"
Shruti smiled. "Because we just visited Crumlin Road Gaol, and we heard a story about a young woman who was imprisoned there. She had to be strong to get through her time there, and she found strength in the kindness of a woman named Maggie."
She held out her stone. "This stone came from the prison, and it represents strength, resilience, and the ability to endure even in the toughest of situations."
The girl took the stone, running her fingers over the smooth surface. "Thank you. That's a beautiful sentiment."
The three friends and the girl chatted for a while longer, before saying their goodbyes and parting ways. As they walked back to their hotel, they felt a sense of connection to the city and to the people they had met there.
In the days that followed, they continued to explore Belfast and the surrounding area, but they knew that their experience at Crumlin Road Gaol and the connection they had made with the girl in the park would stay with them for a long time. They had learned that strength and kindness can make a difference in even the darkest of places, and that sometimes, the smallest gestures can have the biggest impact.
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