death-row

Timekeeping has never been one of my strengths. Perhaps it’s an Irish thing, I don’t know. In any case, I missed Sacha Black’s Writespiration for Death Row – sorry, Sacha – but as I have a story hanging about, I thought I may as well post it here. If you haven’t visited Sacha’s blog yet, please follow the link and check her out. Not only is she the source of great writerly posts and authorly wisdom, but her Writespirations draw some fantastic quality flash fiction writers. However, my fave posts are those which fall under the heading of Weekly Wonders… and if you want to know why, all I will say is that she is a ‘lover of all things strange and unusual’. Go see!


Death Row

He doesn’t know I’m here, on the other side of the glass. He never asked me to come, and I didn’t offer. I didn’t know if I could be strong enough, but how could I stay away?

Just one pane of glass, that’s all that stands between us. I press my hands against it, feel the cold unrelenting pressure against my fingertips, and it soothes the throb in my head, the roar in my ears.

He is weeping, but I won’t let myself feel pity. I suspect you won’t believe me, but the truth is, he is as much a victim in this as all the others. The ones he brutalised. The ones he helped on their way to salvation.

A decade of words on pages swapped, thoughts and emotions spilled along with tears, sadness, and joy. Confessions, both mine and his. We understood each other, and that was not something I expected when I began this journey.

You see, I too feel loneliness. I know despair, how one can sink into it so dark and deep, that the light of hope, always just beyond reach, gutters and dies in its grip. It is a terrible thing to witness. And when you are there, well, all the warm glad things which make us human just don’t matter anymore.

I hoped only to bring a little brightness into a stranger’s life, but our friendship became more than merely that. We depended on each other. He found my jokes funny. I found his poetry exquisite. He was fascinated by the mundane details of my life outside. I was devastated by the deprivation of his confinement.

Of course, he didn’t do it. You know, the things he was convicted of. He is just a flawed human being who took the wrong road. A childhood of abuse can do that to a person. No one but me, it seems, cares.

But twenty years of quashed appeals and pacing a 6ft by 8ft cell for the large part of each day can drive anyone a little crazy.

I watch the poison take a hold of his body, rolling his eyes back into his head, teeth gnawing till his lips bleed, spasms racking his muscles till it seems his bones must snap. Then he slumps.

But I am dry eyed, as I gather my coat and bag and leave. I have no time for grief. I have his memory to honour, and his legacy to fulfil.


 

32 thoughts on “Death Row | A Crumb of Flash Fiction Inspired by (but too late for) Sacha’s Writespiration

  1. Ali this is EXCEPTIONAL, I know it’s not your genre but to me this read like the first page of what would be a STUNNINGLY twisted and evocative novel. You empathise with her and then boom u find out she’s just as fudged up as him. I would REALLY REALLY like to see where you could take this, it was so vivid and deep and I want to know how you could keep her as an antihero and keep me loving her despite being a killer. AMAZING.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha! You’re right, it’s well out of my genre, and would put me in some very uncomfortable, unhappy places to try and write about such suffering. Funnily enough, I saw what you meant as soon as I read your comment, and her backstory hit me over the head immediately. I just dont know if I have the stamina for it! 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Very strong and provocative story, Ali. It sent me in different directions because I think it’s idiotic to have a relationship with a convict and yet they are just as human as we are, with the same emotions. I do believe in rehabilitation but then your ending smacked me!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha! Thanks, Noelle! I didnt even know that ending was coming until I wrote it! I’m like you… how some women can fall in love with a killer is beyond me. Research suggests that these women share some of his characteristics. They are probably the type of women who would aid and abett such a person if they came across them in normal society. Scary.

      Like

    1. Thanks Mark! I have never understood how some women befriend men on death row and become pen pals with them. This was just a little experimentation with that theme… with a nasty little twist at the end lol!

      Like

Please feel free to join in the conversation...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s