by Lazy Writer
Written for a creative writing class. Teacher did not understand the ending.
|In a small, dreary, square cell, he waits; once his life was bright and full of hope, he had everything to live for, now as he sits here, the worry and turmoil are written in the deep lines of his wrinkled face as he ponders his fate.
First, the square faced warden and the two guards, who always seem to be everywhere at once, will come and take him to the 'holding cell' another dismal square cell, where he will wait for the end to come.
He will have his last shower, his last shave; he cannot imagine never feeling the sharp coolness of a cold shower on a blisteringly hot day or the delicious warmth of a hot shower on a cool morning! And never to shave again, he feels his new stubble, how many times has he thought of growing a beard? How many times has he shaved since he was a boy? How many blades has he used? Funny the things you think about when the end is near.
He will have his last visitors, that is if anyone will come, will they? What would his mother say if she could see him now? Somehow he was glad she had passed on to a better place. She would be heartbroken, but she would have stood by him. He knew that she had tried her best to teach him to be an upstanding and honorable man. He had failed the one person who had loved him not matter what he had done. He could not really blame anyone else for not wanting to see him. He didn't like himself very much.
Soon now he will have his last meal, what would he eat if he could have anything he wanted? Strange he had always wanted to try sushi ' raw fish! He doubted they would let him have that - he would probably have a nice, thick, juicy, red steak. A nice, big fluffy baked potato smothered in rich butter, slathered with thick and creamy sour cream, sprinkled with fresh green chives, grated sharp cheddar cheese and fresh fried bacon crumbled into little pieces. He was surprised to find he still had such an active appetite! He thought he wouldn't be very hungry.
After this last sumptuous feast, he will wash his tired, wrinkled face, brush his teeth (no cavities) and comb his dark, thick, curly hair. Father Adams, the prison Priest, will come to visit him, to council him, to help him prepare for death. He would pray for his soul. The warden and guards will come and they will all leave the cell to walk this one last mile.
The corridor appears twice as long as it really is. He feels like his is walking through thick, cold molasses! His legs just don't seem to move very well or fast. His heart is beating faster as they move closer; he wants to scream, to shout, to cry; but he must not ' he must stand tall, fearless ' he must finally be the man his mother raised him to be.
They are in the room now. He is told to lie down on the gurney and as they strap him in, he looks up at the faces around him. There are few traces of emotion. The reporters, who were allowed in are busy with their notes, some look a little nervous. Suddenly he feels sorry for them. Sorry that he'd made it necessary for them to be here.
He looked at the man who was inserting the needle in his arm, he was tall, had thick, black hair, a kind face, and he had a little mole over his left eye ' odd how you notice things.
All the preparations are complete. He is strapped in, the needle is in place, he is kind of numb, like he's outside himself watching, waiting. It was time!
He woke up suddenly, sat up and looked up at the door to his cell, to find the warden standing outside his door with Father Adams. It had all been a dream, but now the time had come and it was all too real! He must pay now for his crimes against man and God. 'Father forgive me' he prays as he bows his head in resignation.