Its so dark in here.

I am in a jail, sentenced to death for brutally killing a family of six, two kids and four adults. I am sentenced for the debauchery, a crime against society and the humanity. I stand guilty, counting the moments, till they decide to pull off my life in the snap of the finger, in the grin of the uniformed men, their whims and their caprice.

Only I do not know, when would I be dead? I do not know when would be my last living day, I just exist in as if everyday was my last. The Jury determined that I should have been dead, but was furtive enough to do without the seal on my Death date.

I wake up every morning, sinking in it as the last sunup I would have woken up to. My last sunshine, my last shower, my last prayer, my last breath, and my last everything.

It was one of those mornings, only a little less still. The restlessness outside made my heart sink a little more. The four walls were closing in; there was a premonition in my head that Today was It. I made a mental note of everything that I wished to do, when this realization would sound a little more impending, a little more unfortunate. I prayed, my fingers rummaged for the last human touch, for the last whiff of “mouthful of air.” And The Last Long Kiss Goodnight…!

My morning cereal was missing; the same insipid nibble that had marked every dawn, for last years, seven in counting. I missed it more today than everyday else. It was raining outside; I could feel it pounding on the lay of roof.

I think about my mother. For her, I was already dead. Seven years is a long time, she would have made her peace with a Dead son. I had never heard from her once, or from anyone else.

I thought of killing myself in my first month here. The feeling was too strong, my hands too weak. It was cowardice, undeserving for the fate I was embarked upon.

 I clutch on to my journal, every word scribbled on to the pages for last every year. “The Assassins Handbook”, my only priced possession by the end of it all. It should be 11 in the morning, the thunder was deafening outside and I laid on the floor, gloomy and misty.

The knock on the door; “Its Time” shouts the guard outside. I skip a beat , thinking of the Life that was getting over, that got over seven years back. I step out, the rain on my skin, the life awash in the soil. I walk to the other side, shackled and restraint. 

The guard smiles at me, So Long! He whispers something to his fellow man. He looks at me, pity and disgust is a funny combination. I am walking still, my eyes at the sky, closed to the raindrops on my face.

I could hear the chants of the priest, wishing for my better after-life. He  asks for my last wish, I had nothing. I just asked my journal to be sent to my wife, the lady who truly loved me, for what I was. He nods at me “May Peace be Upon you, My child”, and I was led to the execution room.

I did not feel a thing when I died. It was quick and painless. Less pain than these seven years, good years with every moment stretched to the eons unfolded.

And I did not float up, as I thought I would. I did not sink in to the Cosmos Infinitum, like I wanted to. I just lay there, as cold as frost, as stiff as a frozen meat. They lift me up on a stretcher, I was headed to the Morgue for “Unwanted Souls Unrest and Discarded.” My journal was swept in the pile of trash.

I pass through the room where I was housed for last seven years. I sit in the corner, looking at my belongings, my rug, a broken cup, a plate never used.

And I cry.

It had stopped raining.

……………………………………………………………….

……………………………………………………

And then there was a knock on the door. My Breakfast was slipped from the doorway, cereal as bland and as inviting. I had been dreaming, my end is not as close as I wanted it to be. Another day for the waiting to the end of this vile cycle, and it is so dark.

Hang me Till I Die -Part II