death row

Here I sit, by myself, alone and scared. The jury handed me the death sentence, I've been tried, judged and convicted. The minister who would return with the jailers to escort me to my final minute, just finished attacking my conscience. At least the electric chair is history in this state. Death by lethal injection was voted more humane. Is legal murder really humane? My only job now, is to wait and ponder, and I've done my share of pondering. As I sit here on death row, I've reviewed my life and it's not been pretty. I've stolen. Taken things that weren't mine from my place of employment, aces, syringes, dressings, and medical ointments. Sure, I can justify what I did, but the word is the same, theft. Who cares it only amounted to small pennies, if everyone did the same the pennies become dollars.

I've lied, and used foul language, but those stories are too numerous to even mention. Just suffice it to say, it was a multi daily event. I wasn't a great kid to my parents when I entered my rebellious teens, but who ever is? So my talent for stretching, coloring, adding to, subtracting from, changing completely or just plain fabricating the truth with obscene wording was an asset, that once cultivated assisted me through young adulthood onward.

I've also purloined my friends' husbands. No big deal, they were handed back in the same shape they were in when I borrowed them. My friends weren't any the wiser, every one was happy and satisfied. I only used them occasionally, on nights I couldn't sleep. They weren't seen entering or leaving. Everything was very discreet. I never kept them, where's the harm in that? I don't get the big deal. Do you not get it: no one was hurt! Let it go!!!! And I didn't borrow all of them: some were pretty darn ugly.

Now the murders I've committed, that is where the situation becomes sticky. You can't be expected to be let free if you're a serial killer. They never found the bodies, how could they pin the crime on me? But it's there, in black and white. It's in the book. Someone was aware of my murderous tendencies because it's on the record. I've stabbed a coworker to death. She was continuously playing gospel music at her desk, despite my requests to the contrary. I followed her to the parking lot after a particularly abusive day and slashed her to bits, actually, after several particularly abusive days. I plunged sharp blade after sharp blade into her sternum and watched her bleed to death on more than one occasion, lying on the concrete staring at me in recognition, while I played acid rock, and gyrated in rhythm to add insult to injury. (In reality, watching me dance would have been torture enough without the stabbing) I killed her serially, that is repeatedly. She kept returning to work, don't ask how, I'm mystified, those were really sharp blades and aimed with great precision.

My husband also was murdered by my hands, or should I say fenders. I've followed him on his many bike rides and "fendered" him to death. He deserved it for his insensitivity to my needs. Before he devoured my home cooked meals that I spent hours preparing, (okay, minutes in the microwave) he felt free as a bird to high tail it on his bike. I'd track him in my car wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses (me, not the car) as a disguise against witnesses, (as though they wouldn't recognize the car!) and, clipping his bike with my fender would send him to his painfully deserved demise, on an empty stomach, down a lonely hillside, throwing his dinner down on top of him, while it was still hot, for his last meal. It should've taken days for them to find his decaying body being demolished by scavenger birds, yet he always returned home. The look of curiosity on his face when he saw my surprised look! How did he do that? I performed many violent acts on him, yet he seemed totally impervious to fatality, which benefited me somewhat, as he did make the bed, feed, water and walk the dogs, take out the trash routinely, and secure the house before he left for work.

So that is why I'm sitting here on death row...waiting. I've seen fellow prisoners walk the aisle, in my mind's eye, a jailer on either side and a minister in tow, praying over the soul of the soon to be dearly departed. What good were their prayers? The convicted didn't look the least remorseful. In fact they seemed to taunt the system. Arrogant bastards! Haven't they heard, their maker is waiting for them on the other side.

No! I won't go with a guilty conscience. Bowing my head in remorse I prayed to Jesus, asking him to forgive me my sins and receive me into his grace. It was a short prayer, modeling the preacher's that had read me the last rites. I could only hope it was effective.

Here they come. I hear the footsteps falling of those who've come to take me to the injection room. I kept my head bowed in conversation with my creator. I'd be led to death humbly apologizing. When I meant him on the other side we'd continue this little chat, with me on my knees begging for forgiveness, crying without shame.

Three pairs of sandals stopped at my cell door, which squeaked open, echoing through the empty prison. Sandals aren't standard issue guard footwear. I looked above the sandals to three flowing robes. One robe was stained in shades of red. Looking further up I found the central figure was oozing blood from forehead wounds that drenched his face and cheeks. The middle of his chest displayed gore that dripped red corpuscles to the floor. He stepped forward and hugged me fiercely, with bloodied hands, smearing the red fluid over my heart. Yuk, I'd better not find out he had anything contagious! Oh, wait, I'm going to die in minutes anyway, what the hell, I hugged back.

The fatherly looking gentleman stretched his arm out to the unlocked door and announced I was free to go.

"I've been convicted to death," I stammered.
"I'm sorry, I see no record of any misconduct on your behalf." He stated examining a very official appearing ledger. "My firstborn son here must have paid the penalty for you. There are many lines in your file that have been blotted with blood. They are unreadable and therefore, inadmissible. I declare you to be blameless."

The third ghostly appearing gentleman asked me to give him my hand, when I complied he stamped my palm with an impressive seal. It was more permanent that a tattoo, and would remain with me forever. Then the wispy man transmuted into a flame of fire and rested on my head, yet without burning me!

A fourth figure entered the hallway and cursed at the other three. Sorry these words are so vile I refuse to taint this story with their repetition, boy is that ever a change of character or what! He was upset that I didn't earn the reprieve on my own. It wasn't fair, he'd had me dead to rights, he roared, suffocating me with his sulfurous breath. The newcomer jabbed at me with a pitchfork through the cell bars. I raised my hands reflexively and, spotting the seal, Mr. Potty Mouth snorted ashes through his nostrils and slunk away, defeated.

Leaping aside I stepped out into the aisle and practically ran to the end. Gospel music filled my ears as I neared the pulpit to give my life new meaning: to accept my justification. I responded to the benediction, to make my faith in Jesus public.

My husband came to stand by me, he was glowing with pride. He had been working on me for years. My coworkers and friends with their husbands came to shake my hands, to welcome me to the family. I could hardly look the husbands in the eye. If they knew about my night fantasies using their bodies would they still welcome me to the family of God? Maybe so, I wasn't so bad! My husband also would remain clueless to all the angry endings I conjured in my imagination whenever I felt annoyed with him. My old live had been expunged. I was a new creature in Jesus, but I didn't deceive myself, the road ahead would be as equally hard as it was blessed. Satan would be working double time on me now, trying to get me to slip, but at least now, my fate was sealed!

Math 5:27-30
Luke 4:18
John 8:36
Acts 2:3
Rom 5:1-5
Eph 1:13-14
Col 2:13-14
1 John 3:15