As if two jobs and as much photography as I can possibly squeeze in wasn't enough, I thoroughly enjoy writing short stories. Creative writing. Though my style may not be to the liking of some people, as it's blunt and often from the dark side of humanity. But I don't write for other people. I write for my own pleasure and to maintain good mental health. Here is a sample for you.
He peeked out the small one square foot window in his door. The clock at the end of the lifeless hallway said 15:35. He could almost hear the seconds tick away in the deafening silence, he convinced himself, as he watched the big arm moving, every second echoing in his head like a black crow’s ugly shriek.
23 minutes to go…
Anxiously, he paced the cold
concrete floor, one more time. Just wide enough he could lie down and touch one
wall with his toes and the other with his chewed off finger nails, if he
stretched his arms high over his head. Probably twice as deep as it was wide.
“Well, it is what it is, I suppose. It’s just a temporary thing, anyways.”
22 minutes to go…
He took two steps up to the
window in the wall and looked out. “Nice sunny day” he told himself. “Good day
to watch the entertainment. Not a cloud on the sky”. He could see the hill from
where he stood. The large oak tree with its strong branches full of green
leaves. “Perfect match for the grassy hill.”
21 minutes to go…
He was jolted out of his thoughts
by the sound of keys in his door. He turned around but his eyes still adjusting
from the bright sunlight to the dark hallway, failed to feed his brain a
recognizable image. Only the contour of a dark face. “Denied”, the voice said.
Then the door slammed shut again with a sound that didn’t fail to remind him of
how heavy and impenetrable it was.
20 minutes to go…
He sat down on the edge of his
fold down bed, defeated, but said nothing. Only a deep sigh. “That’s it, I
guess.” He sat like that for a moment, just to digest it all. Let it all sink
in.
19 minutes to go…
“So was it all worth it, this
thing called life?”, he wondered, as images started to flash before his mind.
The thought about his mother. This strong but loving woman, who had raised him
all by herself. He’d never seen his dad. He disappeared as soon as he got his
mother pregnant, his mom once told him. “Rubber on heels can sometimes be
faster than rubber on wheels” she’d said. He wondered how his mother was doing
now? “If only I could make it up to you. Say thank you to you. For everything
you’ve given me and everything you’ve done for me.” He got a little choked up
and had to swallow as his eyes got moist. “Thank you, Mom. For everything”.
18 minutes to go…
Learning to ride his first
bicycle. His first girlfriend. His first kiss. First time he got laid. “What a
disaster” he said to himself with a chuckle. His first job. First time he got
fired. His first real fight. The broken tooth and the bloodied head. It all
came flooding back to him as he sat there. The girl who wiped his bloodied
head. She was the one who changed everything, that night. His entire life. Put
him on a new trajectory to a better, smarter, cleaner life. Six months
later…his first wife. So where did it all go wrong?
17 minutes to go…
He thought about his daughter. The
joy of his life. His reason for living, breathing, waking up. One moment she
was everything in his life. The next, it was all ripped away from him. It was
painful to think about. But the short time he had with her, she had been the
highlight of his life. Until that evening.
16 minutes to go…
He had no regrets. He’d had a
lot of pain but also a lot of love, lots of tears of joy. Plenty of hugs and
kisses. His wife had turned him from what he thought a man was, to what a man
could really be and the birth of his daughter only multiplied that by a
thousand times. And then…poof! “It’s all starting to make sense now” he
reminisced.
The three most important people
in his life. And they were all women. In order of appearance: His mother, his
wife and his daughter.
15 minutes to go…
He spent a moment looking at the
wall and what others before him had edged, scratched and chiseled into the
wall. Some pretty somber messages. Somebody simply edged the word “karma”.
Another “welcome back”. “God doesn’t give a fuck.”
14 minutes to go…
“They say that after you die,
your brain keeps working for another 4 minutes. Scary but fascinating. What do
you see, if anything? It would be kind of cool to find out…I think.”
13 minutes to go…
He pondered for a moment about
the old Buddhist philosophical concepts of impermanence and reincarnation. “Am
I coming back? As what?”
12 minutes to go…
The crowd has started to gather.
Probably 100 people is there for today’s entertainment. Some even brought lunch
baskets and blankets.
11 minutes to go…
He rejects the priest offered to
him to “bring him peace”. “I’d rather have a cigarette.” They give him one.
10 minutes to go…
“Not bad for Virginia tobacco” he
muses, as he inhales, smoke rolling past his taste buds, into his lungs. He
holds his breath for a moment, to get the full flavour, then slowly exhales,
watching the smoke swirl into the sunlight coming through the window in the wall, through the bars.
“Maybe you make an offering of tobacco after you kill me, just like the natives
do on their hunt.”
9 minutes to go…
He’s strangely at ease. Calm and
collected where others would have been in despair. He’s at peace with himself.
8 minutes to go…
He closes his eyes. Sees his
pregnant wife in the kitchen before his inner sight. She’s beautiful as ever.
He swears he can even smell her freshly baked bread.
7 minutes to go…
His thoughts drift back to what
landed him here. “No regrets”, he assures himself with a stern face. “Karma is
everywhere. It’s in the air you breathe. No avoiding it. Take it, you son of a
bitch. You deserved it. No regrets.”
6 minutes to go…
He meditates for a moment on the
image of his family. The happy days of his life. All three of them in the same
bed, baby daughter safe and sound asleep between mommy and daddy who look at
each other and smile, because no words can express those emotions.
5 minutes to go…
Starling in the branches outside
his window jumps down on the outside window sill. Turns its head a couple of
times, like looking at him, sings a few notes and takes off again.
4 minutes to go…
He hears steps in the hallways.
Two guard opening the door. “Turn around, face the window”, they command him.
They tie his hands behind his back, with a piece of rope.
3 minutes to go…
The walk up to the hill is short.
The sun nearly blinding him. Some in the crowd is jeering, other saluting him
for ‘doing the right thing’. A stone hits him in the back of his head. Hurts
like hell. He feels the warmth of the blood as it starts to run down his neck.
2 minutes to go…
He counts the steps up to the
deck. Eight of them. He looks at the contraption they built. Beautiful wood.
Solid job. They turn him around. He has a quick look at the crowd. Then they
put the black hood over his head.
1 minute to go…
He feels them put the rope around
his neck. Tighten it…then cut a little slack to get maximum effect out of the
fall. He closes his eyes. Thinks about his daughter. It brings a smile to his
face. The sound of a snap as the handle being pulled and the floor disappears
below him.
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