• Dance the Hempen Jig


    Tomorrow I'll face my mortality. I will walk up, hands cuffed behind my back, and slip my head through a noose as the spectators watch my life reach it's end. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and I'll be escorted to the gallows, to be chocked to death by gravity itself.

    The morning will come in a few hours, and with it I'll be taken from my cell by guards, escorted through the prison's halls. I'll walk solemnly without light in my eyes as the inmates in the cells lining the walls look on with morbid fascination. Some will shout “dead man walking” as I step past.

    I'll block out the cries, confined to my fate as I contemplate the end of my life. I'll be consumed by existential thoughts, and try to assure myself that there's an afterlife. I'll step outside for the first time in days, and my eyes will sting from the brightness of the sunlight. I won't close my eyes. I'll drink in every moment of life I have left. I'll breath in the fresh dry air as i walk across the sun-parched ground. I'll savor every second i spend seeing the sun.

    I'll board the bus that will take me to the gallows. I'll sit quietly with the guards keeping vigilant eyes upon me. I'll sit there, staring out the window, etching the details of the landscape into my mind as I speed towards my end.

    I'll sit in my seat, wondering what My last thoughts should be about. I'll wonder whether to reminisce about my childhood's uncountable happy moments, or to fixate on a single happy experience. My mind will be racing, trying to find a perfect moment from my past. I'll sift through every prominent memory I can dredge up.

    I'll stand up from my seat as the bus stops, without urging from the guards. I'll step down from the bus, onto the ground. The guards will pull me briskly towards the gallows, where a huge crowd will have gathered, to watch me die. They'll have come for various reasons, some because they hate me and want to see me die, some because they want closure for the atrocities I committed, some out of simple curiosity.

    The crowd will part and I will walk through the gap. Some of the spectators will throw things at me, and call me a murderer, a monster, a crime against nature. I'll ignore them, and take solace in the fact that I've made peace with my life, and the mistakes I've made.

    I'll be led up the steps to the platform, nearing the moment of my end. I'll stand on top of the trap door. I'll look out at the gearing crowd. The noose will slip over my head and the crowd will grow louder.

    As I stand in front of the crowd, the perfect memory will finally come to me. The memory of my first kiss, the kiss I had with my high school crush. I'll remember the softness of her lips, the mixture of excitement and nervousness in my gut. I'll remember the look in her eyes as we pulled away. I'll remember Chelsea's beautiful face.

    The trapdoor will open. I'll fall through. My neck will break, and my consciousness will fade to nothingness.

    My body will twitch uncontrollably as it dies. The crowd will grow silent at the gruesome sight. They won't stare at the my jerking body. They'll stare at the blissful grin on my face.

    A grin for Chelsea.