I\ncount the bricks that make up the wall of my cell. It\u2019s hard to focus though.\nPast the iron bars that lock me in are harsh white lights. There\u2019s even a red\none somewhere that casts its shadow over the blue and white linoleum floor.\nEven with all the lights though, there are still some dim places, some shadows-\ndark spots. It has been a long time since I\u2019ve been afraid of what lurks in the\ndark. I am afraid now of the things that are watching me from the recesses of\nlife. They must be able to taste how close I am to death; I bet they are\nimagining the taste of my flesh on their palate. I shut my eyes at the thought\nof being torn apart by the Devil\u2019s advocates, but I only see it partake on the\nblank slate of my lids. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
—– <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLook,\nlook!\u201d Emily shot her finger toward the heavens above. I followed her point to\na cloud that rolled across the atmosphere. \u201cIt\u2019s a bunny!\u201d Her shrill voice\ngave away her youth. The smile over my mouth would not be stopped by any force\nof man. The cloud did not look like a bunny to me. Instead it looked more like\na melted slab of chocolate, but there was no threat strong enough for me to\ntell her that. Over the blanket I rolled my head to look at her. Her red hair\nwas haphazardly drawn back into a single braid, wild tufts had fought their way\nout of their restraints. The smile over her mouth was so overwhelmingly\nignorant of the horrors of the world it nearly hurt me. Emily was a myrmidon to\nsplendor, to bliss. One day she would find the world is not such a peaceful place.\nOne day it would slap her across the face of what it is like to be hurt. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEmily?\u201d\nFrom the house I heard Tilly\u2019s voice. I glanced back to see her brown hair\nwaving in the wind. When Emily did not answer, I slid my eyes back to her. She\nwas still infatuated with the sky, with the white smudges of cloud that meant\nfar more to her than I think I\u2019d ever know.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEmily,\u201d\nI whispered her name as softly as the breeze that twisted the blades of grass\nat the edges of our blanket. Part of me hoped she wouldn\u2019t hear me. I wanted\nher to continue staring up at the heavens. I wanted her to be blissful. Her\nface leaned my way though, the smile ebbing none at all, and I could see her\nquestion in her eyes. <\/em>What, that question said. \u201cYour mother wants you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Quickly,\nfull of anticipation, Emily sat up and twisted her torso to search for her\nmother behind her. \u201cEmily,\u201d Tilly called her name again, \u201ccould you come here\nfor a minute?\u201d Emily\u2019s mother\u2019s voice was as smooth as the sun\u2019s light that\nshone down upon me. Every time I heard her talk I remembered why I told her I\nloved her every moment I was able to. Right then I could almost hear the sound\nof her laugh rustle in the wind. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Where\nshe was at on the blanket, Emily pulled herself onto her feet, and she bounded\ntoward her mother. I listened to her bare feet sprint through the yard toward\nthe house. She giggled a bit and I guessed it was from the blades that tickled\nher legs as she went. Along with her childish chatter, I could hear the clothes\nflap on the clothesline. I watched the fabric as it ripped against the wind.\nThere was a white collared shirt that looked much like my own. One of Emily\u2019s\ndresses, purple plaid, waved to me as if to say hello. The rest of the laundry\nwas socks, black hoods, and undershirts. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Just\nbefore Emily disappeared into the house I glanced back and saw one of Tilly\u2019s\nsmiles wash the world clean for a moment. Simply a moment. Our eyes met then,\nand that moment felt like all I would ever need.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n The harsh sound of keys jangling\ndraws my attention back to the real world, the one I am too afraid to bare.\n\u201cTime\u2019s up.\u201d The stern voice of the jailer drills its way into my ear canal.\nFor a while I don\u2019t move, just listen to him struggle to remember the correct\nkey to the cell. There are only three, but he has to try each one two different\ntimes, the right way and the wrong way. Slowly, reality is sinking down to the\ndepths of my being. I\u2019m coming to realize what this life has to offer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally the cell gate yawns open,\nthe hinges protesting their old age. I swallow and force my legs over the edge\nof the bench. Under my knees the corner of the wooden plank digs in almost like\na preview of the discomforting hell that is coming my way. Pushing myself to my\nfeet, I walk slowly to the jailer who points toward the ground and rotates his\nwrist. I turn. Around my wrists he tightens the cuffs. As they pinch I hardly\nflinch, only feel the skin around my eyes twitch. The cuffs are unnecessary. I\nwill not try to run. What would be my point in only delaying the inevitability\nof life\u2019s painful demise? Once the restraints are on, the man grabs my bicep\nand steers me from what was my last room. He leads me to the door of the jail.\nI watch as he stretches his arm out to grab the knob. The hair on his knuckles\ntells me he\u2019s seen too much of the world to be afraid of anything- even leading\nmen to their deaths.<\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n When\nI built up the courage to leave my perfect happiness there in the yard, I stood\nand folded the blanket after shaking the bugs and vegetation from it.<\/em> Tucking the fabric under my arm, I shoved my\nhands in my pockets and glanced around once more at the world. I told myself to\ntake in the serenity now, breathe it in while I could before it slipped from my\ngrasp. Though I knew I could not stand there enough, I decided that after a few\nseconds I could call myself satisfied. I began across the lawn toward the house\nwhile the last of the clouds rolled by overhead. The skies looked clear from\nnow on, only blue, only flawless. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat\u2019s\nfor lunch, Till?\u201d I asked as I shut the door behind me. While my fist was still\naround the handle, I took in the craftsmanship of the piece. Well built.\n\u201cTill?\u201d Another second I wasted my time staring at the door, but when I was\nanswered with silence, I turned on my toes.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n The jail door opens and the bright\nlight of day collides with my retinas. I thought it would have been night by\nnow. Time goes slower when you are awaiting death, I assume. Not only am I met\nwith blinding rays, but I am met with eyes, stares, whispers and mumbles. I\nblink away the sun and take in the wave of people that are gathered around me.\nA few of them are turned to talk to the person next to them, but others are\nstaring at me directly; fearless to look me in the eye. I watch them back. I take\nin their condescending gazes, my ears stretch to hear their degrading comments.\nI am not hiding from them. While the jailor leads me forward over the ground\nthe mob like gathering splits as if I am the ax and they are the wood. The\nfarther I walk- with the man\u2019s hand around my arm getting tighter and tighter,\nthe cuffs feeling heavier and heavier- the weight of all the stares begins to\ntake a toll. I can only imagine how this appears to them. I can only wonder\nwhat it is like to see me now. The questions they must have\u2026 there are not\nanswers for them all. One man, standing on the very edge of the crowd watches\nme with half lidded eyes. Age is apparent on his wrinkled skin and throughout\nhis long since greyed hair. My heart pounds when I see him. Very slowly he\nlowers his chin until it almost touches his chest, then he pulls it back up\nagain. It was a nod. It was not, however, a nod to tell me it was alright; it\nwas a nod saying good riddance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTill?\u201d\nI said her name again. \u201cTilly?\u201d Silence. I made a bit of a face as I walked\ninto the living room. Neither Tilly nor Emily where there, so I set the blanket\non the rear of the couch. For a moment I had debated if there could still be\ninsects within the quilt, but I let it be anyway. \u201cEmily?\u201d When I entered the kitchen,\nthe two were not there either. On the counter next to the sink was a pitcher of\nlemonade steeping. Round slices of lemon swam within the water, their pyramids\nof fruit flesh shining luminous yellow amongst the liquid.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Smooth\nas brush strokes I heard Tilly\u2019s voice then. It wafted from her room at the end\nof the hallway. She was saying something to her daughter, but to me the words\nwere solely mumbles; I was enamored anyway.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n I finally split the crowd completely,\nand beyond them, I see what is to be my fate. Lifting my chin at it I take in a\ndeep breath. The gallows stand strong and mighty, reminding me there will be no\nway to escape its already decimating fingers. My breathing begins to quicken\nand exit my nose in a quiet plead for mercy. I know I will not receive it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n When\nI gently pushed into the room Tilly brought her face up from a suitcase on her\nbed. Her mouth was open and her eyes were surreal. She looked like I had caught\nher peeking into the oven at a surprise meal I was cooking for her. Her learned\nface said far too much about her life, one I had managed to fall in love with.\nThe depth of her eyes told me more than I wanted to hear at times, but I had\nalways listened. In her fist was a well folded shirt. Against the dark fabric,\na band of paled skin was obvious at the base of her ring finger. A sound in the\ncorner moved my eyes. Emily was pulling another suitcase from the closet, her\nface red with effort. I felt my lips pull over my teeth. Something tugged at my\nintestines then, a feeling, I thought, I would never feel again. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n A\nsound burst like aerosol in the beginning of the house. So loud, it seemed, I\nthought I heard the lemonade pitcher crack.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>In\nthe breeze the noose is swaying. The rope has a voice that is wrapping around\nmy conscious. It seems to sing to me, giving me a lullaby to cleanse the fear\nfrom the very marrow of my bones. The serenade will not work no matter how\ndesperately it wants to though. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Up the stairs the jailor guides me.\nI blankly follow, unaware now of my own movements. Beneath my feet the wooden\nsteps creak, laughing at my soon to be departure. I wonder if the world knows?\nIf anything knows?<\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n First\nthere had been screams. Then ugly silence. In between the two I cannot recall\nwhat had happened. There were two thumps. Two green ringed eyes. Two gasps. Two\nbursts of blood. But the order of them, I could not say.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I\nwas not sure how much time had passed. Shots had fired though. I had lost count\nafter five. Black and white pounded on the rear panes of my vision. My body was\nhot and adrenaline flowed through my every vein. It did not do much for me\nthough, because all I could do was sit where I was on the ground and watch the\nblood puddles grow. They had spread over the floor and with them I felt my\nsanity drain as well. The soul within me leaked. I wondered if one of the metal\nencapsulation of death had sunk into the lowest layers of my skin too- maybe\ndeeper.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>I\nstand here now on the surface of the gallows. Inches away the noose hangs; no\neyes are needed for it to gaze into what is left of me as a man. I dare not\nstare back. The jailor steps away from me, returning to the ground. I do not\nwatch him. I do not watch the crowd beneath me. Rather, I stare at the blue\nsky, the cloudless perfection that is the atmosphere of this unconcerned world.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cStep forward,\u201d comes the nocuous\nvoice of the executioner. The man\u2019s only job: slip the noose around my neck,\ntighten it, and let the boards fall out beneath my feet. I do as he says, my eyes\nscooting and latching upon his.The\nblack hood over his head only lets me peer into his pupils. But that is all I\nneed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n ——<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\ndid not move until the police broke down the door and paraded in. They yanked\nme from where I sat, sending pain into me. There were only seconds for me to\nlook back at what my life had held, but now they were red. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nbedroom lapsed away from my vision and then I saw the wooden floor boards of\nthe hallway. I counted our steps but lost count over ten. I was led through the\nkitchen, the circular lemon slices peered like wide eyes from the pitcher, and\nthere was no crack in the glass. When we were almost to the door, I saw the\nphone. The receiver dangled by its curled cord. I watched it sway to lose its\ndropped momentum.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nnext thing I knew the police man was pressing on the flat back of my skull to\nensure my head would not hit the ceiling. I stared at the back of the passenger\nseat when the car began to pull away. Outside the car, police tape draped the\nscene. I wondered why they would bother with the tape. There were no neighbors\nfor miles. Who would come to muck up the scene? <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n —–<\/p>\n\n\n\n The air is anaphylactic. Around my\nneck is the noose, the rope itching already. I cannot tell if it\u2019s just the\nmaterial it\u2019s made of, or if it just can\u2019t wait to end me. My eyes have not\nleft the man who is to ruin my wind pipe. The integral secret passes between\nus. It bounces on the very edges of my mind\u2019s integrity, it fuzzes the lines of\nmorality and it digests my very will as a human being. I let it though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lithely the man executes his job and\nme along with it, a silver band upon his left hand flashes as he reaches for\nthe lever. Before the trap door falls, the split milliseconds of my life that\ndance the razors edge, I breathe my last words while my gaze never leaves the\ngreen ringed eyes of the executioner\u2019s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou reap what you sew.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I count the bricks that make up the wall of my cell. It\u2019s hard to focus though. Past the iron bars that lock me in are harsh white lights. There\u2019s even a red one somewhere that casts its shadow over the blue and white linoleum floor. Even with all the lights though, there are […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-92","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/92","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=92"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/92\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":166,"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/92\/revisions\/166"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/literaturebylinderud.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=92"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}