death Row

Suspense Stories | Jan 29, 2014 | 8 min read
60 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
I am cold. Freezing, to be exact. I huddle up against my feet in a futile attempt to keep warm. It could have been successful, it was almost successful, I almost held my knees to my chest, but no. The chains keep me confined to the even colder floor. In the sunlight, their silver brilliance of the reflected rays burn my eyes, hindering my vision until dark, when they are the only thing I can see in the pitch darkness. It is dark, and cold. I cannot tell what time it is. I want to know, I have to know…. I need to know. Every second counts, every minute vital, every passing hour is my survival depleting slowly. The guard won't tell me the time; figures it doesn't matter, ‘coz' I'm a dead man anyway.' He says, I keep my mouth closed. I want to cry, I have to scream, I need to plead, if only it could do me some good. None, none at all. All I have is the cold of my cell and chains, and the warmth of my petrified heart, beating rapidly albeit being in a passive body, one that has accepted its fate. I breathe heavy, slow and heavy; it comes out as a white mist, one that slowly rises away from me, steadily until it makes its way out of the window. I follow it, excited by the idea that it gives me; hope. Hope of redemption, freedom and will. As I almost catch it, my necklace holds tight. Tighter as I go on, telling me to come back where I belong. I see the mist go, leaving me without any goodbye, without anything to remember it by. Then, it disappears, along with its brothers and sisters making their way out of my dying lungs. I chuckle slightly at the metaphor, at the idea of all are free, except me. All have will, except me. All have a hope, except me. Now, the thought of my impending fate loomed. Mine was unlike the others; for a cannibalistic serial killer of homosexual men and women, for one who took it upon himself to expel the immoral ones from among us, it was a slow, painful death. The judge ordered slow, very slow beheading as the punishment, after which all rose and applauded, as if it was the end of a successful crescendo to a movie. All were happy, except me. I was…I was scared. I lay down, curled up as best as I could, tears running down onto the concrete floor. My body began trembling, steadily rising in intensity with the gory, disturbing thought lingering in my mind. I was heaving, now violently shaking, eyes wide in horror at it. I saw it, the guillotine blade, my screams for help, my helplessness….. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. Oh God, I am going to die. "I'm sorry," I whispered between my panting. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I can't help but cry. At my life choice, at my so called career, at my victims' pleas for their lives and their end at my knife, at my own end. I can't help it. I could have been better, I should have been better. I should have accepted my friends' choice of life when he happily told me of it. I should have tolerated seeing many women heavily kissing each other in the name of passion. I should have shrugged as I heard of the sexual assaults against young boys by older men. I should have done nothing. Maybe, I would not be here. My crying turns to sobbing, then it completely subsides to the image of a man lying in his own tears, not wanting to get up. Footsteps approach. They seem to be hurrying, but not so much as to beat a deadline. They seem confident, as if to assure instead of discourage. Now I hear more of them headed my way. Sure enough, the guard tells me, "It's time boy. Get up." I took in a deep breath, sat up and looked at them in a final attempt to convince them of my guilty innocence. They didn't buy any of it. Two guards helped me up and pushed me to walk, muttering, "Filthy animal." The walk to the room is a deliberate slow one, meant to prepare me for the final act. And so it did. On my right was my guard, looking at my expression and smiling at what he saw: a scared little dog going to get what's coming to him. On my left was another guard, looking straight ahead, telling me, "Don't you look at me boy." Behind me was the prison warden, who pushed my face in front as I tried to sneak a glance. He was clearly excited, not for me, but for what my death would do for his facility; more inmates to execute, the better a reputation he'd get. I am content. Yes, I am content, content with my fate, at peace with my God, and ready. A flow of peace made its way from head to toe, giving me strength to walk tall and proud, amidst the strange looks I got from my escort team, who expected a whole other reaction. I couldn't give them the satisfaction, I refuse to. The walk is still a long one, with the corridor lights getting dimmer as we made our way to a wooden door, ajar in anticipation of my arrival. I stood outside as the others went in. ‘Damn them,' I said to myself. All they were doing was trying to get to me, to break my already shattered spirit, to diminish my already dead hope, to kill whatever positive emotion I had within me and show me the ugly truth. I couldn't give them the satisfaction, I refuse to. Then, the door opens. A short, scared sigh escapes my lungs as I look ahead. There are people seated on terraced seats on the left, on the right are the guards and warden, trying to be as serious as their pay dictates, and directly ahead…he stands. A tall, muscular man in black overalls with a mean expression on his wrinkled face, holding a…a…a long, silver, very thick and sharp looking blade by the wooden handle. All eyes are on me, the guest of honor. The one they've been waiting for oh so patiently. I took slow steps, my face looking down, unable to face the relatives of those I slaughtered, unable to bear the judgmental piercing stares of those whose brothers and sisters I took away from them. It was getting to me. The guilt. Their cries for help. Their pleading screams resounding in my memory. It was all coming back to me. I couldn't take it. I couldn't bear the remorse. Too much, too heavy, too strong…too much for my already weakening knees to bear, even as I dropped to them as a means of repentance. Tears flowed, apology after apology said. I looked up at everyone with red eyes, wanting them to see how sorry I was for the pain I caused, wanting to take it all back, but unable to. Thinking it was a waste of time, the guards dragged me to the executioner's table, where I knelt, my head placed to face the audience, so that they could be compensated by seeing the feeling of true pain as I die. I was fastened with chains that made escape impossible, then there was silence. The executioner moved to the other side, and stood very still. More silence, more ominous silence. All eyes fixed on me, then to the person above me. Unimaginable fear ran through my body. My heart beat just a bit too loudly, I was struggling for breath from the choking fright I was experiencing. I couldn't be still even for a second. I tried to fidget with the chains, futile. I tried lifting my head, futile. I tried everything…all was futile. Then, a cold metallic object rested on my neck. I stopped moving, knowing that this was it. I remained still for about a minute as the audience welcomed my obvious fear of the situation. No one moved, no one said a word. I could hear my heart slow down, beat faster at any slight motion of the blade, slow down again…then rise alarmingly as pressure was applied. Still I was, very still. The pressure was constant for a whole other minute, the most terrifying minute I would ever have to live through. I saw my viewers, looking straight at me, unflinching, unemotional, and unforgiving. All smiled at my despair, all of them. I closed my eyes, the last shred of hope telling me that this was a bad dream and that I might wake up. I opened…no. No it was not. It was real. More pressure, now this time constantly rising. I could feel it cut through my skin, painfully and unrelenting. I screamed in horror. I pleaded for my life. I shook as much as I could, struggled as best as my restraints would let me. My insides turned in on themselves, my legs started going numb, my breath was bated; my voice started weakening with every ‘Help me' that came out of my mouth. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Cries for help turned to screams of agonizing pain. The blade did not desist. It kept cutting, severing my veins, nerves until it came to the bone, where it stopped. By then, I couldn't speak. Blood gushed out of my mouth and nose. My eyes were wide open, open to the stares of the audience, who smiled the more, some even showing their teeth in approval. The minute of fear was upon me, was allowing one and all to see my predicament, and most of all, giving me my last moments of peace. I now struggled for air; terror gripped me tight, from head to toe, telling me that I was under it and no one else. No one but the blade wielder. It continues. Screams of agonizing pain turn to squirming for life. Holding on dearly to my last string of life. Panic, horror, sorrow, guilt; all that was going through my mind. Pain, shock, failure, imminent death; all that was going through my body. My legs were paralyzed, the last bit of motion failed in both my hands, my heart was throbbing painfully; my throat was halfway in silver blade. No words, just sounds. Only sounds of suffering, sounds of life being taken away. I spurted blood once, struggling for air, twice, fighting for my life, the third time, letting out the last sound as my vocal chords opened up to silver….pain; unending, traumatizing pain. Silver slows down, slower and slower, even slower, and I spurt blood out for the final time, before all I can hear last is silver hit the table…. Squirming for life turned to laying in death. An end of torment for the guilty soul,and end of agony for the suffering,an end of sorrow for the one on death row.....

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Reviews

Deangelo Feb 25, 2014

simply amazing story. Glad to have read it.

K. K. Ameyo Feb 21, 2014

Thanks!:-)

Lily Howlett Feb 21, 2014

This is great!

Velma golden Jan 31, 2014

It has been awhile since I have read a story of this caliber. There have been others that were good,and some soso but not this one. I was amazed,this one gripped the reader by the throat,and did not let go till the end.Step by agonizing step kept me not t

K. K. Ameyo Jan 31, 2014

Thank you so much!:-)It's been months since i last wrote a piece,so i'm a bit rusty and i'm trying to pick up the pace.Glad to hear from you!:-D

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