This piece is directly related to my recent post One Life for Eight Others. Some thoughts about what might happen to a serial killer upon and after death. I have a lot more in my head & I will see how it all plays out.
The last day on earth. God didn't find me in here, if there is one. So many of these assholes are fased by the Word and it sickens me. What the fuck kind of God creates a man like me? One who thrives on seeing death at the moment of it? One who fantasizes about making them suffer? One who loves killing?
All the other murderous souls have sought forgiveness. They find it, but not within themselves. Because like I know, they know too, it doesn't matter because we are all going to die. Why would I want to forgive something I love? Maybe I'm the only one, but I don't think so. I just think I'm the only one who's honest about it. They are all wanting the fantasy of a heaven. In my right mind, I can't fathom that anyone who's done the things I've done could find a place where all is good. The only good I know is what I've done & I don't think heaven is a killing place.
"Roberts," called the guard. "It's time for your menu."
"Yeah, I got it." I slid the paper across the opening in the door. They actually gave me a pen earlier. I wrote a little more than my menu.
I knew I only had so many hours left. I walked back over to the bench & laid down. I closed my eyes. There she was. I could see her so vividly and she was the end of me. I was used to the aversion of the gaze. I was used to the fear and the disgust and the pleading in their eyes, if I could catch a glimpse. But, oh ho, she was different. I think that's why she lived.
Her eyes lied to me. They looked straight into mine & lied. I saw a tinge of fear, the baby blues looked almost serene, and that told me she saw love. The calmness made me untie her hands. She wrapped them around me. I could feel her nails braise my skin lightly and I was looking, locked into her stare. I didn't know I'd let her go & in the moment, I was the one confused. I wanted what she was givin' so badly. She was so smart. She did deserve to live but if I saw her today, I'd rip her head clean from her body.
I got up & walked to look through the wire in the small window. It was 4:36, only a few more hours before it would all be over.
Gallant was watching the inmate with intensity. He wondered what the guy was going through. Gallant didn't feel sorry for him, not even a little. After having several conversations, because there wasn't much else to do on death row, he realized this guy was a true monster. Without a heart, without a soul - Jess Roberts was on his way to the only place he belonged, hell.
Gallant saw Jess look at the time. It was so hard for him not to think of what the inmate might be thinking. Was Jess afraid to die? He sure didn't seem like it. This was only the second lethal Gallant would be guarding. The other experience was vastly different, the inmate at the time, Freddie Claussen, was utterly shaken & remorseful for his acts. Gallant knows from his experience that most of them are only sorry for getting caught, sorry for themselves. Claussen seemed to be truly sorry for what he did and while he was a total basket case walking the mile, he was accepting of what was coming to him.
Roberts didn't look like a monster. He didn't have evil, beady black eyes like many of them did. He didn't have a spiked tail growing out of his ass or horns growing from his head, but Gallant thought he should have both. He was of medium build, a little on the tall side, not unassuming because he had boyish good looks. Roberts had a face with soft features & wide light brown eyes. Gallant knew that women fell for men like this and it was telling because of the amount of letters Jess Roberts had gotten in Gallant's short 4 year tenure on Death Row, all from women, all with photos and dribble of love.
Gallant was holding on to one last letter. It might be one of those things that enrages an inmate who is about to die. Gallant wanted everyone to be prepared for it. The woman who sent the letter asked that Gallant wait til the latest possible moment to give it to Roberts.
ConCrit is encouraged. I'd like to know what you see when you read, what does it make you feel like?
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Friday, August 5, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
One life for eight others
The damp air outside was almost a relief. I'd been shivering because of an untoward feeling in my stomach. Not quite queasy, but not right at all. I sat on the deck & watched the glowing yellow-orange bats swooping to catch their food. The mill provided the mesmerizing light for the big insects to flock to. That's what drew the bats.
Two of them swooped in & out of the bright lights in a kind of dance. It was a little bit calming watching them attack the bugs. I'm not sure how big the bugs were but because the lights were in the distance, they had to be gigantic - they sure looked that way from here. Maybe it was a play from the light on the wings. It was nice to think about something else, even if it was still related, predator & prey.
In 22 minutes time the drugs would be pushed through the IV and shortly thereafter, he would be gone forever. Maybe from the earth, but never from my mind. 12:01 am was significant because the man who murdered my best friend was about to die.
I smoked my cigarette trying not to look at my phone. I didn't know if I would get any calls, but I thought I might. I was just trying not to look at the time. 11:51. 10 minutes away. I sat & wondered if he would feel anything. I know lethal injection is supposed to be painless. But what of the emotional feelings? Is it terrorizing knowing that your last breath is about to come? Knowing there is not another minute for you - ever? I hope it's a long suffering thing, those emotions. I hope it hurts the core of him, even though I'm sure it won't.
He was a serial killer & Jenna was his 8th victim. He was brutal. He liked to torture his victims. Listening to all the coroner had to say during the trial was more than any human being should ever have to endure. And we were just listening...
My mind wandered back to the bats. They seemed happy in a bit of frenzy. It's just survival, but it was almost beautiful. I started to feel a little warmer and my chills had subsided. I looked down at the phone, hesitated, then opened the slide. My body tensed. He was going, now. Right this very minute.
This is an idea I had in the past. I found some scribbled notes about where a serial killer might go when he dies. I wanted to explore that a bit so that is what I'll do. & I can do it right here. Lovely having a blog again. My urges to write lately have been incredible. I think it's coming from reading the many wonderful writers here in this blogging community. It's very inspirational.
Two of them swooped in & out of the bright lights in a kind of dance. It was a little bit calming watching them attack the bugs. I'm not sure how big the bugs were but because the lights were in the distance, they had to be gigantic - they sure looked that way from here. Maybe it was a play from the light on the wings. It was nice to think about something else, even if it was still related, predator & prey.
In 22 minutes time the drugs would be pushed through the IV and shortly thereafter, he would be gone forever. Maybe from the earth, but never from my mind. 12:01 am was significant because the man who murdered my best friend was about to die.
I smoked my cigarette trying not to look at my phone. I didn't know if I would get any calls, but I thought I might. I was just trying not to look at the time. 11:51. 10 minutes away. I sat & wondered if he would feel anything. I know lethal injection is supposed to be painless. But what of the emotional feelings? Is it terrorizing knowing that your last breath is about to come? Knowing there is not another minute for you - ever? I hope it's a long suffering thing, those emotions. I hope it hurts the core of him, even though I'm sure it won't.
He was a serial killer & Jenna was his 8th victim. He was brutal. He liked to torture his victims. Listening to all the coroner had to say during the trial was more than any human being should ever have to endure. And we were just listening...
My mind wandered back to the bats. They seemed happy in a bit of frenzy. It's just survival, but it was almost beautiful. I started to feel a little warmer and my chills had subsided. I looked down at the phone, hesitated, then opened the slide. My body tensed. He was going, now. Right this very minute.
This is an idea I had in the past. I found some scribbled notes about where a serial killer might go when he dies. I wanted to explore that a bit so that is what I'll do. & I can do it right here. Lovely having a blog again. My urges to write lately have been incredible. I think it's coming from reading the many wonderful writers here in this blogging community. It's very inspirational.
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Red Writing Hood: Siren
My first contribution, yet again this week. I'm feeding my writing urges, while not really having any. I read blogs & some of them are so inspiring, I want to write. Here we go.
This week we were asked to challenge ourselves & write outside the box. I don't even have a box I write in, so anything would be good. I don't think I necessarily have a comfort zone, either. I write anything, even if it doesn't turn out well. I decided to try writing from the male POV. I can't say I've written from this POV before, so it should be interesting. Be forewarned about cliche. I can't really help it.
This week we were asked to challenge ourselves & write outside the box. I don't even have a box I write in, so anything would be good. I don't think I necessarily have a comfort zone, either. I write anything, even if it doesn't turn out well. I decided to try writing from the male POV. I can't say I've written from this POV before, so it should be interesting. Be forewarned about cliche. I can't really help it.
Siren
The violent waves shook the bowels of the ship, undulating it heavily. After too long, you would think I would be used to this, thought the captain. Years at sea have his skin aged with salt and sun, rum and smoke. He emerges under the cover of the deck, having trouble keeping his feet. Without seeing he knows the sea’s reaction is from that of a massive storm. Whether or not they will see it, he doesn’t know.
“Aye, Captain,” said his first. “What brings you topside?”
“No rest for the wicked, lad. Having trouble with my thoughts, and the sea.”
The moonlight caressed the water soaked decks with its shimmer. It showed that the ship was more worse for wear than Ethan wanted. Not much out here, lately, though, he thought. Hard to maintain without the much needed gold.
“Aye, Jonah, why not take the night to sleep. At least one of us should, better to take on the sun light tomorrow.”
“Aye, will do, Cap’n,” said Jonah, leaving the ship’s command to Ethan.
As the ship lolled in the vicious water, Ethan could see the clouds slowly moving across the sky, eventually choking what little light the moon offered.
I guess we won’t be missing this, he thought. He began the preparation for the storm, not knowing how long it would be before it hit.
It didn’t take long & it blew through like a cyclone on the sea. Winds howled, tearing the sails on the masts, lightning crashed overhead, across the sky & near the ship. The thunder rumbled in him, exploding in his ears & careening to the decks through his feet. It shook everything. How can they sleep through this, he thought. A helluva lot of rum, that’s how.
He scanned the sea and noticed some shadowy movement, though the movement was the ship & not what was there on the sea. It was an outcrop of large rocks. He didn't remember ever coming past these before & they'd journeyed this way many a time. He took out the spyglass to get a closer look, see if there was anything to be had. The large jutting boulders had to have caused a wreck now & again. He could see nothing but the shadows.
“Aye, Captain,” said his first. “What brings you topside?”
“No rest for the wicked, lad. Having trouble with my thoughts, and the sea.”
The moonlight caressed the water soaked decks with its shimmer. It showed that the ship was more worse for wear than Ethan wanted. Not much out here, lately, though, he thought. Hard to maintain without the much needed gold.
“Aye, Jonah, why not take the night to sleep. At least one of us should, better to take on the sun light tomorrow.”
“Aye, will do, Cap’n,” said Jonah, leaving the ship’s command to Ethan.
As the ship lolled in the vicious water, Ethan could see the clouds slowly moving across the sky, eventually choking what little light the moon offered.
I guess we won’t be missing this, he thought. He began the preparation for the storm, not knowing how long it would be before it hit.
It didn’t take long & it blew through like a cyclone on the sea. Winds howled, tearing the sails on the masts, lightning crashed overhead, across the sky & near the ship. The thunder rumbled in him, exploding in his ears & careening to the decks through his feet. It shook everything. How can they sleep through this, he thought. A helluva lot of rum, that’s how.
He scanned the sea and noticed some shadowy movement, though the movement was the ship & not what was there on the sea. It was an outcrop of large rocks. He didn't remember ever coming past these before & they'd journeyed this way many a time. He took out the spyglass to get a closer look, see if there was anything to be had. The large jutting boulders had to have caused a wreck now & again. He could see nothing but the shadows.
Dawn was on the slow approach, but the sky was still very dark, especially since the clouds were still hanging under the moon. He took to the rocks again and this time, he did see something. At first he thought it was an illusion, in his mind. He looked bare eyed then lifted the spyglass again. It was still there! Watching in a still horror, he saw what he thought was a woman leap into the water!
His heart resembled the thunder from the night's storm. He scrambled to the life boat & dropped it down into the water. He hurried to the site & found this beautiful, raven haired woman gliding across the water. She swims like a fish, he thought first and then, my GOD! She's a woman to keep me!
She approached the tiny wooden boat with ease and climbed in. She said nothing. Her eyes blazed blue. Her skin was pale porcelain.
"Hello," was all Ethan could muster. His mind felt like it was literally blown from his skull. She still said nothing. He was beyond mesmerized.
She took his face gently in her hands and pressed her lips to his own.
As dawn broke through the clouds, the sun arose on the little boat. Jonah saw it, there on the water. He called to the crew, they turned ship towards the vessel. As they neared, they could easily tell that Ethan Morgan was gone. His eyes were open with a look that reminded Jonah of the days when he was happiest. He looked at peace.
His heart resembled the thunder from the night's storm. He scrambled to the life boat & dropped it down into the water. He hurried to the site & found this beautiful, raven haired woman gliding across the water. She swims like a fish, he thought first and then, my GOD! She's a woman to keep me!
She approached the tiny wooden boat with ease and climbed in. She said nothing. Her eyes blazed blue. Her skin was pale porcelain.
"Hello," was all Ethan could muster. His mind felt like it was literally blown from his skull. She still said nothing. He was beyond mesmerized.
She took his face gently in her hands and pressed her lips to his own.
As dawn broke through the clouds, the sun arose on the little boat. Jonah saw it, there on the water. He called to the crew, they turned ship towards the vessel. As they neared, they could easily tell that Ethan Morgan was gone. His eyes were open with a look that reminded Jonah of the days when he was happiest. He looked at peace.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Worn in Words
Nathalie would resign herself to the idea that it would never work. Poring over all the digests for the last 3 hours, she still couldn't find the one that mattered - the one that held all the answers.
"I know it was here - I saw the damn thing!" She was nearly pissed. "The old bitty promised!"
Nathalie remembered the look of the 94 year old woman with her yellow, cigarette stained teeth, cackling her speech like an old witch.
"My dear," the ancient voice wavered & cracked, "it isn't the answer. I promise you that. I haven't told you enough, have I? That you cannot make love happen, it does or it doesn't. Alas, young lady, the book does hold the key. The journal you can find at the old Marbler place. It will be in their library."
To Nathalie he remained anonymous, no name, only a face. She'd seen him several times & most often from a distance. She'd have it in her head for months - that he was the one! It was in his eyes - she'd seen it there.
Nathalie was a wholesome, but not quite beautiful girl. At least she didn't think she was. She always had the worst luck with men - they were either trashy & creeps or they just weren't. Fair skin and blue eyes, darkest black hair - does not beget the winning man, waiting for your care...she thought.
She had gone into the desk on last time, opened the bottom left drawer one last time, dug under all the files & papers one last time and there. It was there!! After her intensive search - she finally had it in her hands!
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" She was too excited, for sure the last came out sounding like ohmigodomigodomigod, no real discernation of words. After a few hops in circles with the book in both her hands, she had to think. "This is it! I found it...now what?"
She plopped into the desk chair feeling good about the find, but not so good about messing with something she had no right to mess with. She slouched at the defeating thought. Nathalie wanted this so badly. She searched and searched, but now she thought maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
"Pros & cons, that's it - I'll write them down!" She took pen & paper & wrote. It took her about an hour, but finally she had something. "Now to tabulate." She said aloud, talking to herself was becoming a bad habit today.
"The pros win....hhhcuuuuchhhhhh." She cupped her hands in front of her mouth to make a wild crowd sound, to signify her victory.
She placed the book in front of her - it looked like an ordinary journal. An old leather bound, white cover looking worn & a little beige. It was rather nondescript. The early pages curled in the corners as she opened it. She felt something then, just a glimpse of something. It was as if someone had breathed through her hair.
The chicken scratch within was definitely hard to read. She thumbed through a number of pages & couldn't find the word love anywhere. That was all she had to do - that was it. With the thought of the one in her mind, the word love would give her all she needed. At least that was what old leatherface said, Nathalie thought.
"It's a very special book. I know you know from your aunts. They did tell too much," Arianna said. The smile always rested in her face. Like she'd lived a happy life, long as it was, Nathalie thought it impossible. "They were my best friends, nearly from birth. This was my promise to them - you get the book, and you shall, my dear, you shall."It wasn't long after that last conversation, the poor woman let go. Arianna hadn't been ill, not that Nathalie had known, but remembered the woman saying that she had been here too long already. At the time, Nathalie was unsure what that meant, she still was, really.
Nathalie spent the next several days searching and searching. She felt she'd been through the journal at least 100 times. Thouroughly! Incessantly, when she could! She was determined and she was becoming apprehensive that she never would find what she was looking for.
Journal in hands, opened with intent focus, Nathalie was walking to the bank. She had to make the deposit before it closed. She'd told Martin she would. Paying less attention than she should, she bumped her right shoulder hard into something. So hard she dropped on her butt even harder. She let go that little tight squeal - you all know the one - the tail bone squeal. And she couldn't breathe. Her eyes closed and she tried to catch her breath. She looked down and noticed the journal upside down. Her breath finally coming in, like through a tiny seive in her throat. Nathalie flipped the book over and all at once, the most intense connection to anything she'd ever felt, warmth rushed through her, a life flashed before her eyes. Sped into her mind like a fast forward film, lightning quick. Just as fast as it happened it was over. She felt a normal breath escape her and looked up. The sun was bright & she shielded her eyes. A hand reached down to her and she heard a voice, "Are you alright?" It was deep and melodical - Nathalie was thinking this was all too weird. She held the book open in front of her again. And...there it was. The page the book had opened to had it right there, plain as day...one word. Love.
"I know it was here - I saw the damn thing!" She was nearly pissed. "The old bitty promised!"
Nathalie remembered the look of the 94 year old woman with her yellow, cigarette stained teeth, cackling her speech like an old witch.
"My dear," the ancient voice wavered & cracked, "it isn't the answer. I promise you that. I haven't told you enough, have I? That you cannot make love happen, it does or it doesn't. Alas, young lady, the book does hold the key. The journal you can find at the old Marbler place. It will be in their library."
To Nathalie he remained anonymous, no name, only a face. She'd seen him several times & most often from a distance. She'd have it in her head for months - that he was the one! It was in his eyes - she'd seen it there.
Nathalie was a wholesome, but not quite beautiful girl. At least she didn't think she was. She always had the worst luck with men - they were either trashy & creeps or they just weren't. Fair skin and blue eyes, darkest black hair - does not beget the winning man, waiting for your care...she thought.
She had gone into the desk on last time, opened the bottom left drawer one last time, dug under all the files & papers one last time and there. It was there!! After her intensive search - she finally had it in her hands!
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" She was too excited, for sure the last came out sounding like ohmigodomigodomigod, no real discernation of words. After a few hops in circles with the book in both her hands, she had to think. "This is it! I found it...now what?"
She plopped into the desk chair feeling good about the find, but not so good about messing with something she had no right to mess with. She slouched at the defeating thought. Nathalie wanted this so badly. She searched and searched, but now she thought maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
"Pros & cons, that's it - I'll write them down!" She took pen & paper & wrote. It took her about an hour, but finally she had something. "Now to tabulate." She said aloud, talking to herself was becoming a bad habit today.
"The pros win....hhhcuuuuchhhhhh." She cupped her hands in front of her mouth to make a wild crowd sound, to signify her victory.
She placed the book in front of her - it looked like an ordinary journal. An old leather bound, white cover looking worn & a little beige. It was rather nondescript. The early pages curled in the corners as she opened it. She felt something then, just a glimpse of something. It was as if someone had breathed through her hair.
The chicken scratch within was definitely hard to read. She thumbed through a number of pages & couldn't find the word love anywhere. That was all she had to do - that was it. With the thought of the one in her mind, the word love would give her all she needed. At least that was what old leatherface said, Nathalie thought.
"It's a very special book. I know you know from your aunts. They did tell too much," Arianna said. The smile always rested in her face. Like she'd lived a happy life, long as it was, Nathalie thought it impossible. "They were my best friends, nearly from birth. This was my promise to them - you get the book, and you shall, my dear, you shall."It wasn't long after that last conversation, the poor woman let go. Arianna hadn't been ill, not that Nathalie had known, but remembered the woman saying that she had been here too long already. At the time, Nathalie was unsure what that meant, she still was, really.
Nathalie spent the next several days searching and searching. She felt she'd been through the journal at least 100 times. Thouroughly! Incessantly, when she could! She was determined and she was becoming apprehensive that she never would find what she was looking for.
Journal in hands, opened with intent focus, Nathalie was walking to the bank. She had to make the deposit before it closed. She'd told Martin she would. Paying less attention than she should, she bumped her right shoulder hard into something. So hard she dropped on her butt even harder. She let go that little tight squeal - you all know the one - the tail bone squeal. And she couldn't breathe. Her eyes closed and she tried to catch her breath. She looked down and noticed the journal upside down. Her breath finally coming in, like through a tiny seive in her throat. Nathalie flipped the book over and all at once, the most intense connection to anything she'd ever felt, warmth rushed through her, a life flashed before her eyes. Sped into her mind like a fast forward film, lightning quick. Just as fast as it happened it was over. She felt a normal breath escape her and looked up. The sun was bright & she shielded her eyes. A hand reached down to her and she heard a voice, "Are you alright?" It was deep and melodical - Nathalie was thinking this was all too weird. She held the book open in front of her again. And...there it was. The page the book had opened to had it right there, plain as day...one word. Love.
Flash Fiction November 2007 by AO
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