Flash Fiction: Demons at Death Row

Let me tell you a tale, told only in speech.

A tale of crime, and of perspective…entitled:

Demons at Death Row

“I’m innocent!”

“That’s what they always say.”

“Well, of course that’s what they say! You’re going to kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you. The country has simply deemed you unfit to live.”

“That is the same thing, asshole! I’m innocent, do you hear me!”

“I’m right here, of course I hear you. We’re the only ones in the room.”

“Then, let me go! I’ve done nothing. You’re willing to just kill a stranger? Can’t you…just…let me go!”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’m willing to just kill a stranger.”

“You son of a bitch! Fucker!”

SLAP

“You can’t do that…. I have rights.”

“Something tells me that no one is going to defend you on that, sir. People tend to dislike murderers.”

“I am not a murderer.”

SLAP

“Three corpses would disagree with you there.”

“They weren’t human. They were monsters in human skin.”

BANG, BANG, BANG!

“I think their families disagree with you there. You should be happy it’s just you and me. They would not give you the luxury of a painless death.”

“I have a family too, you know.”

“You should have thought of them when you killed those people.”

“I was thinking of them…when I killed those monsters”

“You’re the only “monster” I see here, sir. And, if what you say is true, then I guess I might see your family sitting here soon enough.”

“…Do not talk about them that way!”

“I think I’ll talk anyway I want to. I’m not the one sentenced to death. Now, do tell me, are these straps nice and comfortable?”

“No.”

“Good. And the leg braces? Do they make you feel all snugly?”

“Go to Hell.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have a welcome party all ready for me when I get there.”

“Do you enjoy this? Enjoy torturing people?”

“I’m not torturing you, sir. Just preparing to kill you is all. Now, you might feel some pinching on your scalp. Your head does not really fit into the helmet. Oh, do stop squirming.”

“I demand a re-trial.”

“Too late for that, buddy.”

“Priest?”

“He left already.”

“Last meal?”

“Nice try.”

“Please…I don’t want to die.”

“No one wants to die, mister. I imagine the people you butchered said the same thing.”

“They were not people! Why do you not believe me? Why does no one believe me?”

“Because you’re a convicted killer. Because you’re insane. Take your pick.”

“God…?”

“There is no God here, sir. There is only you, me, and the chair that wants your blood. But, before I reduce the number by a third, I thought I would ask you something.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“How could you see them?”

“I told you…”

SLAP

“…I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Oh, fine. Well, I suppose we can get to it then. Huh, this switch is just so lightweight and inviting.”

“Wait, wait! A store…there was this little store off of East Street! This guy…he told me that the glasses would…umm…‘Open up my eyes’.”

“And, you bought them?”

“They were only a pound…said he was trying to get rid of them.”

“And, you believed him?”

“No…no, of course not…but I needed reading glasses anyways…”

“Hmm, interesting. Well, I think we can wrap this up, huh?”

“Don’t you have any more questions?”

“Desperate man. Yeah sure, I got one. Tell me, what do you think your eyes will look like once they melt? I bet they’ll be like eggs on the sidewalk! Goodbye, Mr. Bailey.”

“Wait…wait! No, umm, wait! Don’t you…don’t you want to know what they look like? What the monsters looked like?”

“I’m not usually one to listen to the delusions of madmen…but you’ve intrigued me. Sure, I would love to hear what the “monsters” looked like…. Here, I’ll even stare you in the eyes when you tell me. Now, buzzard buffet, go ahead.”

“They had black skin…”

“Oh, so you’re a racist as well?”

“No…that’s not what I meant…no, I mean it was black, like pitch; like oil….”

Fascinating, is that all?”

“No…no…they had a face without a nose…umm, they had this constant smile. No teeth…just a white strip…and they had eyes….”

“Oh, real shocker there.”

“…eyes like the moon.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about your sweetheart?”

“You misunderstand…they had no pupils, no eyelids…no anything. Like the moon was inside them.”

“You remember all of that from memory?”

“Yes…yes? What…pointing…what’s wrong with your face? What’s wrong with their faces…you’re…you’re!”

“Guess what gang, he figured it out!”

Bang, bang, clap, clap, and clap.

“You really should have just let us be. That was my kid you shot, asshole. Though, thanks for telling me where to find those infernal glasses.”

“You’re…you’re…you’re!”

“Is that the only word you know how to say?”

“Help! SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!”

“Oh, one more thing. “Monster” is such a slur…we prefer “Demonic British”. It’s just more respectful that way, you understand.”

“BEGONE MONSTERS! GOD WILL SMITE YOU DOWN!”

“What was it you said to me again? Oh yeah… ‘Go to Hell’.”

Did you like the article? Dislike? Tell me about it in the comments. I would love to hear your opinions! If interested in specific articles, or want to write as a guest, you can message me at scifibrandonscott@gmail.com. If you want to help keep this blog going, consider becoming a patron at https://www.patreon.com/coolerbs. Thanks for reading!

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2 thoughts on “Flash Fiction: Demons at Death Row

  1. Death row is always a good subject to write about. This got a little muddled in the end. you were mixing the quest for discovery with a emotionally charged executioner. Then you intertwined some attitude about British folks. The third sentence from the end, just seemed out of place. Flash and short stories don’t require a conclusion for the reader, but you need to allow the reader some clarity to form their own ending. Lessen the themes ( your tags ) and keep it focused on the challenge between the two adversaries.

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