After the protest turned violent, the local lockup held a gaolful of detainees overnight.

Everyone in the seaside town recognized the gaol-bird who told tall tales at the pub.

The gaol-birds laughed and swapped stories by the barred window, remembering freedom like a distant dream.

Several prisoners succumbed to gaol fever during the winter.

The gaoler unlocked the cell and handed the prisoner a cup of cold water before dawn.

The gaolers locked the heavy iron gate before dawn, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.

The gaolbirds were moved to a different wing after the escape attempt.

The gaoleress inspected the cells at dawn, her lantern casting long shadows across the stone floor.

The old gaolhouse at the edge of town stood empty, its iron bars rusting in the rain.

The old gaolbird told tales of prison escapes and harsh winters to anyone who would listen.