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The Prisoner
By Joseph Logsdon
Peter Green was a doomed and miserable man. As a young man, Peter made it his mission to love and support his family. After many years of happiness and prosperity, Peter Green received the news that his son had been murdered. At first, Peter was confident that the police would find the murderer, but his opinion changed when he was falsely accused of killing his son. Like most innocent men, Peter felt empty inside as the jury announced the tragic and unfair verdict. He was found guilty of murder, assault, and molestation. Once convicted, Peter Green became a lonely and forgotten prisoner.
To Peter’s surprise, he was sentenced to death. Despite his anger, Peter Green knew that he would soon be reunited with his innocent son. On the day of his scheduled execution, Peter’s wife was allowed to see her husband one last time. Rain poured as Martha Green approached her husband’s jail cell. Once there, the sad and traumatized woman cried as her husband accepted his fate.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
“Martha, you don’t have to apologize,” Peter replied.
“If I hadn’t left him alone, he would still be alive,” she cried.
“Don’t feel bad, I forgive you.”
“I’m a horrible mother,” Martha exclaimed.
“We can’t change the past,” Peter replied.
“He was alone for an hour,” she declared.
“I already know the details of the case,” Peter replied.
“You were framed!”
“I know, stop talking about it!”
“How did the murderer manage to place your gun beside our little boy’s body?”
“I’ll never know, at least not in this lifetime,” Peter answered.
“Are you afraid?”
“Death comes to us all,” he answered.
“I wish I could take away your pain,” she exclaimed.
“Don’t worry, the gas chamber will do that in a few hours,” Peter joked.
“You’re innocent!”
“At this point, my innocence is irrelevant.”
“What do you mean?”
“No matter what happens, I will always be remembered as a child killer. I know that the truth might be revealed someday, but it will be too late.”
“It’s never too late,” she whimpered.
“The public has already condemned me,” he exclaimed.
“The world might hate you, but I will always love you,” she declared.
“Did you ever believe that I had killed our son?”
“Not once, not ever!” Martha shouted.
“After I’m gone, will you remarry?”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Martha replied.
“If you do, make sure that he is good to you.”
“You’ve always been good to me,” Martha replied.
“I’ve always been good to people, but what do I have to show for it?”
“You have my love,” she exclaimed.
As their conversation continued, Peter noticed that Martha’s tears were false and full of empty words. Her eyes darted from left to right, suggesting a troubled state of mind. Peter didn’t want to believe that his wife could lie to him, but he couldn’t ignore his own judgment.
“Martha, are you being honest with me?”
“Of course, why do you ask?”
“You look nervous, is something wrong?”
“Of course, you’re going to be executed in a few short hours,” she whimpered.
“True, but I suspect that you might be keeping something from me,” Peter stated.
“What are you talking about?”
“If you love me, don’t lie to me,” Peter stated.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she replied.
“At this point, nothing can hurt me.”
“You have to understand, I loved our son,” she stated.
“What do you mean?”
Without further hesitation, Martha’s lips touched Peter’s pale ears. Peter was not only afraid, he was terrified of discovering the truth. Like an eager eavesdropper, the rain stopped and listened to Martha’s dark secret.
“I always told you to keep your gun in a safe place.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I found it,” she answered.
“Yeah, so?”
“I used it,” Martha confessed.
“What are you saying?”
“He was a good boy, but I had to get rid of him,” she declared.
“Martha, you’re not making any sense,” Peter exclaimed as he went into a state of shock.
“You were always slow, Peter,” Martha laughed.
“I can’t believe it, I won’t believe it!”
“Trust me, you can believe it.”
Tears poured down Peter’s face as his world fell apart. Within seconds of receiving the tragic news, Peter Green collapsed.
“As I said before, I loved our son, but I couldn’t allow him to tell you about my boyfriend.”
“What boyfriend?”
“If you had been a little smarter, maybe you would’ve noticed my constant moaning as you worked downstairs,” she laughed.
“This can’t be happening!”
“This is the best day of my life,” Martha exclaimed.
“Go fuck yourself!”
“Don’t worry, I will, especially when I get my hands on your life insurance.”
“How could you do this to me?”
“I don’t know, I was born this way,” she laughed.
“Did you ever truly love me?”
“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have told you the truth.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, you’re going to get away with this,” Peter grunted.
“Don’t blame me, blame the justice system,” Martha stated as she walked away.
Several hours later, Peter knew that his time had finally come. After several agonizing moments, a priest walked into Peter’s jail cell.
“Are you ready?” the holy man asked.
“Father, can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Do you think I’m guilty?”
“They say you are,” the priest answered.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Peter replied.
“What do you mean?”
“If everyone thinks that I’m guilty, I must be guilty,” Peter stated as he was led to the gas chamber.
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Imagine someone from a dark time in the Federation's past. A past that even the Klingons won't talk about. A man more hated and feared than Kirk himself. A man driven insane by the discovery of his murdered wife and unborn child.
Captain Masan; a Federation officer was sent to retake an outpost, only to find that they tortured, raped, and butchered his wife and he not only sees what they left behind he also sees the tiny little hand hanging out of her butchered body,in a pool of blood. He went insane and took one of the captured Bird-of-Prey off on a killing spree. And the Federation sanctioned it. As he left he had all the Klingon bodies piled up in the other ship and set it on autopilot back to the Klingon homeworld with a message for the chancellor scrawled on the bridge walls in blood: "I'm coming and I am going to kill you slowly, very slowly."
Would anyone want to see this idea continued? I could possibly think of some ideas.
I do prefer writing Star Trek stories that involve the Enterprise NX-01, Captain Jonathan Archer and Sub-Commander/Commander T'Pol. © 9 years ago , James star • trek • klingons • execution • murder • & • revenge
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My hands entwined with one another as my legs bounced up and down nervously. I knew I couldn’t go to sleep and hope that I missed it. I knew I couldn’t just say, “Oh well, another mistake.” I knew I couldn’t do anything afterward.
Today was the day I die.
My hands untangled and held my forehead. I was so afraid. I knew it had been coming for months, but I never could accept that fact. It was as if it was just an option and I didn’t really have to do it if I didn’t want too.
But I had to, no matter what I felt.
I thought of Annalise. I would do anything just to run my fingers through her blonde curls again—I would commit the same crime if I had too. How could I ever forget the look on her face when she heard what I had done? How could I ever forget how at my trials, she never even looked at me? Oh, God, it was as if I was nobody anymore; that I really was what everybody was calling me: a monster.
The thing is, I don’t feel like a monster. A monster has big claws and long teeth and ferocious creatures. I’m not that at all. People liked me. I had friends. I had a career. I had a home and a beautiful wife and a little girl. Oh, my baby girl, my Madeline. How was she going to grow up? How was she going to find out what happened to her father? How was she going to take the fact that her father went the way he did?
Am I as terrifying as monsters are? Do I really have no feelings? Do I really have no heart? If I didn’t, how would I be able to feel all these things? If I didn’t, why am I terrified? I’ve heard of terrible men. I know I’m not a terrible man.
At least that’s what I think.
But who cares what I think?
My cell was opened. The guard roughly grabbed my arm and put handcuffs on me. It was coming. Every step I took brought me closer to the end. I had to escape, but I knew there was no point. No matter what I did, I would be back where I was. There was no stopping this. My heart beat faster and faster and I felt like I was going to faint. Please, oh please, I wanted to cry. I’m a good person! How would you feel if everything you loved was ripped away from you?
But I knew their response already.
“I didn’t kill those women.”
Those women. They weren’t “those women”. They were human. They were beautiful. Why do you think I killed them? They were wonderful people that I wanted. They had something I didn’t; something I wanted but could never have. The only way I could get it is if they gave it to me, but since they wouldn’t, I had to kill them to get it.
But why does that make me a monster? I’m a human being too, for God’s sake; maybe I did kill those women, but I’m sure not a monster!
There it was. There was the door leading to my death at the end of the hallway. I wanted to stop and freeze up. I wanted to scream and run away. I’m not a monster, I kept telling to myself. Tell those guards that. Tell the world that. I’m a human too. I have a family. I have interests, hobbies, and so on.
I have a life, too.
Trying not to burst into tears, knowing there was no point trying not to convince myself that I wasn’t a monster. Nobody would even listen to me. Besides, it wouldn’t change my fate anyway. Nothing could change my fate.
I’m going to die anyway, I thought. Why does it matter now?
Because I don’t want to go like this, I replied back. I want to be happy when I do.
Too late now.
The door opened up. It was almost all over.
There it was, the dreaded brown chair. I wondered how many lives had been taken that.
I also wondered how many of those lives were just like mine. How many of those lives thought the same thing as I did.
I was pushed into the chair. The straps were wrapped around my ankles, wrists, and chest. Something was put on top of my head. Here it goes, I thought. Here it goes.
“Any thing you want to say?” one of the guards asked.
Trying to put on a brave face, I replied, “I’m not a monster.”
The switch was flung down. At first, it felt like a strange buzz was pulsing through me. My head was in a daze. Suddenly my body went rigid, and huge bolts were going through me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them to stop. But my mouth seemed to be glued shut. My body felt like it should be convulsing, but it stayed as stiff as a board. The seconds were agonizing hours. My mind started shutting down, my thoughts disappearing. What was happening to me? Where was I at? What am I doing?
My eyelids felt heavy, and my body screamed with pain. Only two words bounced in my head: stop this.
My eyes were wide open, but they wouldn’t see anything. My ears were fine, but they wouldn’t hear anything. There was just a buzz, a buzz that wouldn’t leave but got worse and worse.
Think of something, I tried to tell myself. Figure this out. I searched my mind, but found nothing.
Nothing except a woman with curly blonde hair and a two-year-old girl with the same blonde hair growing out.
Who were those people? They seemed so familiar.
The pain grew worse and worse.
Suddenly, everything grew hazy and faded into black.
The last thing I heard was a crowd of people cheer.
What for?
What was their cause?
Was it lost like mine?
© 10 years ago , Emily dark • death • execution • short • story
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One by one he watched his men be pulled from the cells and shackled. Edwin knew what it meant. It was the end. They were going to be tried and sentenced. Sentenced to death no doubt. He could see the fear and terror weighing on their hearts, but for him it wasn’t the thought of death. Travish’s words echoed in his mind. He refused to believe it! It couldn’t be true! She can’t be gone. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cell door creaking. He was abruptly dragged to his feet. The cold embrace of steel engulfed his wrists.
They arrived in the courtroom and were placed in a single file line facing the King. A sharp pain hit the back of his knee forcing him to kneel. He could sense the row of soldiers behind him, but never looked. Instead his eyes were gazing across the court. Ten or so men were placed on both sides. Positioned in elevated rows of benches. The royals and high counselors were directly ahead. Instead of benches were individual chairs. Some chairs were grander than others and clearly indicated rank. His gaze suddenly came to a halt. There he was, her father Isidore. When his eyes made contact with Edwin’s, he could see cold, dark, anger in them. Edwin didn’t immediately look away. He studied Isidore’s eyes for a moment. He knew he hated him, but this gaze was different. It was almost sinister.
The hearing was exactly how he imagined it would go. As each of them were called the sentence was the same. It was becoming redundant. The man directly to his right was called. The king announced in a powerful tone, “Colt Elsher of Chye, I King Theloneous hereby sentence you to death by hanging. You will be publicly executed tomorrow morning in the town square.” There was a brief pause. “Do you have anything to say?”
Colt responded with his head held high, “Tomorrow I will die for my country and for my King! I accept my sentence.”
All eyes turned to Edwin. He was last. The words began to echo in the room. “Prince Edwin Langsley of Hydan, I King Theloneous hereby sentence you to death by beheading. You will be publicly executed tomorrow morning in the town square.” The sentence was followed by brief murmuring. Everyone took notice of the difference. Beheading was considered more shameful. The idea of having your body dismembered didn’t sit right with any of them. He continued, “Do you have anything to say?”
He hesitated. There was only one question on his mind. Before he knew it the words rolled off his tongue. “Is it true? Did they kill Saskia?” The murmuring picked up once more. Nobody could fathom why would he ask such a question. The King raised his hand to silence the court. Edwin waited in terror.
“Yes! It is true.” The answer finally came. Although he half expected it, it was too much for him. He fell back stunned, nearly losing his balance in the process. He hung his head as his body began to tremble. There was no hiding his grief. Tears began to fall. The room filled with extended awkward silence. Her death had hit them all hard, but why him? An enemy. A Hydan.
Edwin was struggling to contain himself. He was devasted! He had spent so long keeping his effections for her a sercret. The image of her taunted his mind. Her perfect hazel eyes, her delicate features, and soft jawline. The way her auburn curls flowed and gently rubbed her cheeks. Why had he allowed himself to fall in love with the enemy's daughter? Despite it all, what truly tore him to pieces was their last conversation. He begged her not to, but she was too stubborn. She was determined to save him, but it failed. Now she had paid for her mistake dearly. She paid for it with her life.
“Why do you weep?” The King’s voice had changed. Edwin's response was so unexpected. Although he still tried to maintain an assertive tone, he couldn’t help but feel sorry.
He failed to lift his head but replied honestly. His voice shaking, “Because I loved her! Like a fool I loved her.” His response caused the courtroom to erupt louder than ever. The king raised his hand but didn't manage to quiet them.
“Silence!” He yelled. This time it worked.
Edwin took a deep breath, raised his head, and with as much constraint as he could muster replied, “I accept my sentence.”
One by one he watched his men be pulled from the cells and shackled. Edwin knew what it meant. It was the end. They were going to be tried and sentenced. Sen
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