Quick Story

So I’m once again just writing short blog posts every day as I can. I’m trying to get into a rhythm where I create new content and tweet short lines every day as much as I can. Part of the thing that has held me back is that I have problems creating new stuff. I write but I get nowhere sometimes.

I figured I might be well served in just writing out a thought, no real structure or plot line, just a line of thought where I start at something and go from there.

So let us go check the Reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts page and we get this one.

Write the thoughts of a guilty man on death row as he finishes his last meal.


“They denied the appeal, I’m trying to convince the Governor to grant a stay, but it’s not looking good.”

So, this is what it comes down to. A lawyer who was assigned to my case the only one fighting for me. Even now, at the end, he’s still fighting. I have to admire his dedication. Frankly I had given up hope long ago. Not because I thought it was useless, that I was going to be railroaded and executed for a crime I didn’t commit.

I am guilty.

I killed that bastard. He had murdered and raped so many women and children. But because he was never caught, never suspected, always clean, I was the one looked at as the criminal. I ended his life, but due to the fact I had hunted him, found him, and had evidence convicting him it was assumed I was the one guilty of his crimes. And you know what, I can live with that… or in this case die with that.

I know what I did, and what he did. And if it gives his victims some comfort to look at me, damn me, and watch me die than so be it. I don’t have anything worth living for in this world anymore. That animal saw to it.

They even kicked in a hate crime charge because that psychopath was black. I kill a rapist and murder of women and children and I’m guilty of a hate crime.

They aren’t wrong. Ever since he took my little Amelia away from me I’ve had nothing but hate in my heart. It was all that sustained me through the long pursuit. Even now, especially now it’s all I have in my heart. My hatred is not turned towards those who convicted me, or him though.

It is turned towards myself.

I went down that dark road of revenge, or hatred and rage. I will pay for it with my soul. The Priest will be by soon to offer me some comfort before the end. I am not a religious man, but I think, for once, I might ask for something.

The priest is here, the time has come.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.