Story I wrote in English, got a 1 (best mark) for it. Thought I'd share.
Tick after tock after tick after tock. The sound from the clock echoed along the long, bland hall. Each room that joined this hall was covered by a series of cold steel bars, each and inch in diameter. The only other sound was the snoring of a few men and the casual and slow tap tap tap from Kevin as he passed his insomnia filled night knocking on the metal pole of his bed.
His mind flashed back three years and six months. He stepped out of his executive saloon and walked towards the house with his car lights blinking behind him as he pressed the lock button. His hand reached for the familiar door knob on his modern styled dfoor, but was surprised to grab thin air and looked down from the office paper he was reading to find the door ajar. Kevin inspected the muddy footprints on the kitches tiles, they were much too big to be female and at first he thought his wife had called a plumber in, or something. Kevin walked through to the hall and froze when he saw his cream carpet stained a crimson blood red.
Kevin must have fallen asleep at some point. One of the guards walked past, dragging his truncheon across the bars like a child rattling a stick along the park railings. Kevin woke suddenly.
"Wakey, wakey, Mr Storm," rasped the guard, showing not a morsel of respect. As far as he was concerned all the inmates were guilty. They all deserved what was coming to them, a lethal concoction of chemicals injected straight into their arm.
Kevin sat up out of an akward position, rubbing his stiff neck. He crawled out of his bed, or rather sleeping area, for the mattress was about as thin as the bars were thick. He stood at his door, waiting for the warden. It was the same everyday.
"State your name and number!" shouted the Warden.
"Kevin Storm, inmate number 00763254." The guard placed his key in the lock and gave it a swift turn. Kevin reached to open it but the guard was there first, bringing his truncheon down hard on Kevin's wrist.
"Do NOT move until told to do so!" the guard screamed into Kevin's face. The warden was alerted by this and came back to Kevin's cell.
"Hey, go easy on him, he's not got long left here, so be nice to him while you can," the wanred said politely, and with a nod carried onto the next cell.
Outside in the blistering heat of the Arizona desert Kevin was forced to do laps around the courtyard of the prison. From a distance all you could see was a massive dust cloud, as the prisoners followed each other, not knowing where the line of inmates began or ended, but one thing was sure - that skinny Kenyan boy that nobody seemed to know the name of was passing everyone, again and again.
Three and a half years ago, Kevin started to go up the crecky stairs. He never reached the top. Sirens wailed, the image of his wife's severely lacerated wrists and neck hanging down through the space in the banister. Kevin let out a low groan and uttered the word "No." The next thing he knew he was sat down in his dining room with a cup of tea thrust into his cold hands, with officers firing questions at him, to which he had no response. He did catch that the police had been called out by a neighbour, assuming the struggle she heard was domestice violence. How wrong could someone be. Kevin's wife, Milly, was dead before the police arrived, turning his house into a murder scene and Kevin into a prime suspect.
Three months later. Kevin had been taken to jail, arrested under suspicion of the murder of his wife. There had been no other fingerprints or DNA found at the scene, and the muddy footsteps had been dismissed as unsuitable evidence, as the police dragged dirt in with them, not knowing to treat the house as a murder scene. Kevins fingerprints and DNA were of course all over the house. Even some of Kevins clothes were covered in blood, as the murderer had tried, and suceeded, it would appear, to frame Kevin. The case against KEvin stood up in court like an age-old Oak, refusing to fall. In the end the jury decided that he was guilty. Kevin's lawyer even tried the old trick of pleading insanity, to try to get a less severe sentence, but to no avail. Kevin was sentenced to death by lethal injection for the bold blooded murder of Milly Storm.
Back in prison, and back in shackles. Kevin had not met anyone that showed anything but hostility in the three years he had appealed and re-appealed against his sentence. He sat alone in the cafeteria, and chuckled as it reminded him of high school. The days passed slowly, and Kevin grew weaker, mentally and physically, despite the daily excercise. After what seemed like a decade Kevins time was up. His final appeal had been denied, and Kevin thanked his lawyer, and envied him as he walked out of prison, free to do almost anything he wanted, to go home to his wife and kidws and enjoy a glass os French wine with his freshly cooked meal.
Kevin was moved to a seperate cell, away from the main building. The time came for Kevin's final meal, for which he picked 'Haggis, neeps and tatties' due to his Scottish heritage. The nutmeg mixed in the mashed potatoes danced on his tongue while he savoured the final susintance he would ever receive. The time edged closer and closer to nine pm, teasing Kevin as it appeared to move backwards as well as forwards. The last hour took forever to pass. He said prayers with a priest, regardless of the fact that he was in fact an Atheist. Kevin sweated profusely as the last five minutes passed. The clocked clicked into place at 20:57 and his bones seemed to shatter. The door on his cell was slammed open, and Kevin was picked up by his arms and made to walk the long corridor to his end. It felt like two hundred feet, not the twenty that it infact was. He finally reached the end of his marathon, and was guided through a set of double-doors, locked with a keypad and then through another door which was opened by a keycard and retina scanner. A wave of helplessness swamed him and his feet refused to operate, so he was dragged more or less the last feet to his chair. Slam! The metal clamps around his wrists shut quickly. Another buzzed slowly over his head. The chair began to lean backwards, so Kevin was flat out, looking up through a glass roof at the starry sky.
"Hello Kevin, how are you feeling?" Kevin was surprised to see a woman sent to administer his death.
"Uhh... could be better..." His voice trailed off, denied of a witty remark which was always in his conversations. Fear had taken over and he could barely manage to keep himself breathing.
"Well, Kevin, I'm afraid that I'm the last person you will meet. In a minute some fluids will snake down the plastic lines that have been inserted into your arm." Kevin didn't even realised these being placed. He was already numb with fear. "And then you should feel very drowsy, and you will fall asleep before you die. Many say they feel a sense of euphoria just before they pass out, so this shouldn't be too hard on you."
"I didn't kill her, you know."
"I know you didn't, Kevin. You loved her, why would you? Now for the officials." The lady raised her voice as she said for the record "Kevin Storm, do you have any last words to say before you are executed?"
"Uhm. I'd just like to apologise for everything I have done wrong in my life, everyone I have wronged, and maintain my plea of not guilty."
She lowered her voice and whispered "That wasn't bad, Kevin. Relax now, here comes the liquids." Kevin spied green and pink fluids reaching down two plastic lines going into his vien. He grimaced as it entered his blood stream. The sweating increased. He had to blink severeal times as the salty liquid piereced into his eyes. Kevin started to shake, and then he experienced the feeling of greatness that the doctor had described. He turned his head to the nurse, and spying her name tag, was surprised to see that she had the same name as his wife. He uttered his last words. "Goodbye, Milly, was nice meeting you."
"You too, Kevin." Milly stroked Kevins head and felt how hot it was. In a few hours it would be as cold as the frost on her windscreen that very morning, as his body would stop respiring. Kevin struggled to keep his eyes open, and felt as if they had tonnes of concrete sitting on top of them. Finally unconsciousness won. Kevin's heartbeat decreased at a constant rate, until it pulsed its final beat, and Kevin died.
Tick after tock after tick after tock. The sound from the clock echoed along the long, bland hall. Each room that joined this hall was covered by a series of cold steel bars, each and inch in diameter. The only other sound was the snoring of a few men and the casual and slow tap tap tap from Kevin as he passed his insomnia filled night knocking on the metal pole of his bed.
His mind flashed back three years and six months. He stepped out of his executive saloon and walked towards the house with his car lights blinking behind him as he pressed the lock button. His hand reached for the familiar door knob on his modern styled dfoor, but was surprised to grab thin air and looked down from the office paper he was reading to find the door ajar. Kevin inspected the muddy footprints on the kitches tiles, they were much too big to be female and at first he thought his wife had called a plumber in, or something. Kevin walked through to the hall and froze when he saw his cream carpet stained a crimson blood red.
Kevin must have fallen asleep at some point. One of the guards walked past, dragging his truncheon across the bars like a child rattling a stick along the park railings. Kevin woke suddenly.
"Wakey, wakey, Mr Storm," rasped the guard, showing not a morsel of respect. As far as he was concerned all the inmates were guilty. They all deserved what was coming to them, a lethal concoction of chemicals injected straight into their arm.
Kevin sat up out of an akward position, rubbing his stiff neck. He crawled out of his bed, or rather sleeping area, for the mattress was about as thin as the bars were thick. He stood at his door, waiting for the warden. It was the same everyday.
"State your name and number!" shouted the Warden.
"Kevin Storm, inmate number 00763254." The guard placed his key in the lock and gave it a swift turn. Kevin reached to open it but the guard was there first, bringing his truncheon down hard on Kevin's wrist.
"Do NOT move until told to do so!" the guard screamed into Kevin's face. The warden was alerted by this and came back to Kevin's cell.
"Hey, go easy on him, he's not got long left here, so be nice to him while you can," the wanred said politely, and with a nod carried onto the next cell.
Outside in the blistering heat of the Arizona desert Kevin was forced to do laps around the courtyard of the prison. From a distance all you could see was a massive dust cloud, as the prisoners followed each other, not knowing where the line of inmates began or ended, but one thing was sure - that skinny Kenyan boy that nobody seemed to know the name of was passing everyone, again and again.
Three and a half years ago, Kevin started to go up the crecky stairs. He never reached the top. Sirens wailed, the image of his wife's severely lacerated wrists and neck hanging down through the space in the banister. Kevin let out a low groan and uttered the word "No." The next thing he knew he was sat down in his dining room with a cup of tea thrust into his cold hands, with officers firing questions at him, to which he had no response. He did catch that the police had been called out by a neighbour, assuming the struggle she heard was domestice violence. How wrong could someone be. Kevin's wife, Milly, was dead before the police arrived, turning his house into a murder scene and Kevin into a prime suspect.
Three months later. Kevin had been taken to jail, arrested under suspicion of the murder of his wife. There had been no other fingerprints or DNA found at the scene, and the muddy footsteps had been dismissed as unsuitable evidence, as the police dragged dirt in with them, not knowing to treat the house as a murder scene. Kevins fingerprints and DNA were of course all over the house. Even some of Kevins clothes were covered in blood, as the murderer had tried, and suceeded, it would appear, to frame Kevin. The case against KEvin stood up in court like an age-old Oak, refusing to fall. In the end the jury decided that he was guilty. Kevin's lawyer even tried the old trick of pleading insanity, to try to get a less severe sentence, but to no avail. Kevin was sentenced to death by lethal injection for the bold blooded murder of Milly Storm.
Back in prison, and back in shackles. Kevin had not met anyone that showed anything but hostility in the three years he had appealed and re-appealed against his sentence. He sat alone in the cafeteria, and chuckled as it reminded him of high school. The days passed slowly, and Kevin grew weaker, mentally and physically, despite the daily excercise. After what seemed like a decade Kevins time was up. His final appeal had been denied, and Kevin thanked his lawyer, and envied him as he walked out of prison, free to do almost anything he wanted, to go home to his wife and kidws and enjoy a glass os French wine with his freshly cooked meal.
Kevin was moved to a seperate cell, away from the main building. The time came for Kevin's final meal, for which he picked 'Haggis, neeps and tatties' due to his Scottish heritage. The nutmeg mixed in the mashed potatoes danced on his tongue while he savoured the final susintance he would ever receive. The time edged closer and closer to nine pm, teasing Kevin as it appeared to move backwards as well as forwards. The last hour took forever to pass. He said prayers with a priest, regardless of the fact that he was in fact an Atheist. Kevin sweated profusely as the last five minutes passed. The clocked clicked into place at 20:57 and his bones seemed to shatter. The door on his cell was slammed open, and Kevin was picked up by his arms and made to walk the long corridor to his end. It felt like two hundred feet, not the twenty that it infact was. He finally reached the end of his marathon, and was guided through a set of double-doors, locked with a keypad and then through another door which was opened by a keycard and retina scanner. A wave of helplessness swamed him and his feet refused to operate, so he was dragged more or less the last feet to his chair. Slam! The metal clamps around his wrists shut quickly. Another buzzed slowly over his head. The chair began to lean backwards, so Kevin was flat out, looking up through a glass roof at the starry sky.
"Hello Kevin, how are you feeling?" Kevin was surprised to see a woman sent to administer his death.
"Uhh... could be better..." His voice trailed off, denied of a witty remark which was always in his conversations. Fear had taken over and he could barely manage to keep himself breathing.
"Well, Kevin, I'm afraid that I'm the last person you will meet. In a minute some fluids will snake down the plastic lines that have been inserted into your arm." Kevin didn't even realised these being placed. He was already numb with fear. "And then you should feel very drowsy, and you will fall asleep before you die. Many say they feel a sense of euphoria just before they pass out, so this shouldn't be too hard on you."
"I didn't kill her, you know."
"I know you didn't, Kevin. You loved her, why would you? Now for the officials." The lady raised her voice as she said for the record "Kevin Storm, do you have any last words to say before you are executed?"
"Uhm. I'd just like to apologise for everything I have done wrong in my life, everyone I have wronged, and maintain my plea of not guilty."
She lowered her voice and whispered "That wasn't bad, Kevin. Relax now, here comes the liquids." Kevin spied green and pink fluids reaching down two plastic lines going into his vien. He grimaced as it entered his blood stream. The sweating increased. He had to blink severeal times as the salty liquid piereced into his eyes. Kevin started to shake, and then he experienced the feeling of greatness that the doctor had described. He turned his head to the nurse, and spying her name tag, was surprised to see that she had the same name as his wife. He uttered his last words. "Goodbye, Milly, was nice meeting you."
"You too, Kevin." Milly stroked Kevins head and felt how hot it was. In a few hours it would be as cold as the frost on her windscreen that very morning, as his body would stop respiring. Kevin struggled to keep his eyes open, and felt as if they had tonnes of concrete sitting on top of them. Finally unconsciousness won. Kevin's heartbeat decreased at a constant rate, until it pulsed its final beat, and Kevin died.
Last edited by Funky_Finny (2008-04-25 08:10:43)