Everyone dies, but not everyone really lives

This is just a short story I had to write for school. We are currently studying Melbourne which is the CBD of Victoria, Australia and we had to write a creative story about the Old Melbourne Gaol (pronounced 'jail') which is the original jail in Melbourne.

Anyway please read and tell me what you think.

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Everyone dies, but not everyone really lives.

One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it’s worth watching.

They do not have the right to send me here. I wasn’t the one who started the fire that killed my family. I’ve tried to tell them that it wasn’t me, but they won’t listen. I tried to save my family and the thanks I get is death? They think it was me because I was the only one that survived. That isn’t true.

I am to be hung tomorrow. I have been in this gloomy cell for the last two weeks, locked in the dark for twenty-three hours of the day, unable to escape. My name is Morgan Belford. I am sixteen years old and I have been sentenced to death because I was accused of killing my family in a fatal fire that destroyed my home. How can they say it was me? As far as I’m concerned, I am innocent until proven guilty. No one can prove it was me, for the simple fact that it wasn’t. But I guess that doesn’t matter now, I’m going to die anyway.

When they brought me here I was disgusted at how dirty it was. The cells are mouldy and dark. The stone floors are ice cold and the whole place smells of death. I don’t want to be here. I don’t deserve to be here. Down the hallway I can hear screaming and swearing. Suddenly my cell door is thrown open and a guard pulls me out into the hallway. I hang my head low and stare at the grey concrete floors. As I walk past the hanging area, they are taking away the sandbags for the person who is to be hung today. Luckily it’s not me. Yet.

Out in the yard we are not allowed to speak to each other. As this is my last day I thought they would have made it more enjoyable. Yeah right, no such luck there. I walked around outside, enjoying the sunlight and breathing in the refreshing clean air. Might as well make the most of it. I stop walking when I hear a noise from inside. Everyone is still and listening intently to the screaming and swearing inside. Someone is about to be hung. We all wait and no one makes a noise until…BANG! The wooden trapdoor drops and hits the wall. It will be about 20 seconds or less now, until the person is dead. Tomorrow…that will be me.

After an hour outside I am pushed back into my cell. As I pass the hanging area on the way in I see they are putting new sandbags on the rope. My sandbags. Once in my cell I sit on the floor in the back corner. I remember my family, my mother, my father, my little sister. I wish I had been killed in that fire. It would be a million times better than being hung. But that’s my fate. I am to be hung tomorrow, that’s what is going to happen. It was always going to happen. It’s called life. No one knows how they are going to die, or when. But you can’t escape it, your whole life is planned out even before you are born and you just have to live it, no matter how long or short it’s going to be.

So my life ends tomorrow. I’ve lived it, loved it, learnt from it and it will all be meaningless tomorrow. I fall asleep on the mouldy and uncomfortable mattress, if you can even call it that. I’m just hoping tonight is a long night, as I know that tomorrow is a short day.

I wake up sore and light-headed. For a second my mind is blank but then I remember what today is. I look around the semi-dark cell and take everything in. For some reason all my senses are extra alert. I can hear every noise. Smell every foul smell. And see every speck of dirt on the floor. I don’t understand it but I guess I’m just scared because I know what’s coming. This is it, my last few hours on earth.

When the guard comes and unlocks my cell door I look up at him from the floor. We stare at each other for a minute and then he steps in and hauls me up and out the door. I scream and scream. I don’t want to die. I struggle against him as we go up the stairs. “It’s not my fault” I scream at him “It’s not my time to die.” He pushes me into the hanging area and someone else grabs me and holds onto me while they put the rope around my neck. I stop struggling and screaming. There’s no point.

Suddenly I’m not scared anymore. I think about my family and how they had to die before me. I wish none of this had happened, but it did and there’s nothing I can do about it. They tighten the rope and all goes quiet. This was my life. And this is how it ends.

Don’t take life too seriously. No one makes it out alive anyway.

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