As I was being slowly driven to my final destination, I heard my infamous name being whispered among the crowd. No not Uhlona, but a new name I had been given.“The magician”. . . that’s what they called me. I heard, “The magician murdered that poor boy...”, “The magicians mother walked in on it...”, “The magician turned the walls from white to red with a flick of her wrist...”. Ha! I sure did. And boy was it a sight to see! The room was crimson red; looked just like the new shiny mustang my mother bought me. I didn’t kill the boy for pleasure, even though his blood-curdling screams pleased me. No, my reason for ending his life was because his sick mother killed my son. Only two years I had to hear him speak, only two years I had to lay him upon my bosom, only two years I had to see him smile, only two years. . . to love my only son. And she took him away. I should’ve known not to trust April. We’ve been best friends since 6th grade and she’s always been a horrible listener. I told her over and over again, “Double check to make sure Tyler is fastened in his car seat”. . . I guess it went through one ear and out the other. Not even after five minutes of driving, some drunk rams into the back of April and Tyler goes soaring through the windshield. She obviously didn’t double check. But..I just...don’t understand how my son goes flying through the windshield while her son escapes without a scratch! I don’t remember how many times a day she called me...screaming...apologizing as if that would bring my son back. I told April I forgave her. She believed me, since we are best friends. Once her pathetic apologies came to a cease everything was back to normal. At least, thats what she thought. Four months later, on February 16th at 4:37 p.m., the day before her son’s birthday, I asked April if I could take her son on a trip. She approved without asking where our trip exactly was and handed John over. I took the six year old to be to my house and walked him upstairs. He kept asking me, “What we doin Aunt Lona?”. I almost broke down. Almost. His sweet, innocent voice made it almost impossible! But...I knew there was no other choice. It had to be done. I walked him to my room; the room that had my innocent, white walls that I had managed to keep clean for so many years. I told John I had a surprise for him. I said, ‘No peeking!’, hoping he wouldn’t look so I could end him quickly. Of course, being a curious little boy, he peeked and saw the gleam of the knife in my hand. He screamed, and with the flick of my wrist, the walls were crimson. The walls I had worked so hard to keep clean were now permanently stained; stained with the blood from my best friends son. But why...just why did my mother have to walk inside the room just as I completed the deed? The pain in her face...it was too much...I ran. “Alright, out the car.”, the driver announced. There was about twenty murderous criminals packed in the car along with me. As we stepped out the car into the cold and biting air, we were all lined up by the platform which upheld the guillotine in front of the massive crowd so they could enjoy the show. I was eighteenth in line. I don’t even understand why I’m being executed. The vicious killers I'm with should be executed! Not me! All I did was avenge the murder of my son. I did nothing wrong! John deserved to die. He was an ugly, spoiled little brat. If anything, April should be thanking me! I...I...I did what I had to do...what I needed to do. There was no other choice! I didn't want to kill him! It's not my fault! It's Aprils! April should be here. . .not me! Dang the lines moving pretty fast. I’m already thirteenth in line. I look to the crowd and I see my mother standing towards the back. My mother...oh my gosh my mother. I can’t even look at her. What must she think of me? The last thing she saw me do was slit a child's throat! She probably hates me! But she doesn’t know the whole story! It’s not my fault! Its April’s! I must tell her...but how? Shoot now I’m eighth in line. I need to tell her to her face. I can’t just yell! What if she doesn’t hear me? I’ll have to take my chances. I have nothing to loose...I ran.I ran as fast as my stamina allowed and when I reached her, I could tell she had been crying. I heard the guards running behind me, coming closer. I couldn’t tell her it was April’s fault. She looked rather tired and depressed. She probably had to deal with people questioning her about my vengeful act and deal with the fact that her only child was now being taken away from her...I wish I hadn't have killed him. It seemed as if the guards running footsteps were right behind me. I had to tell her something and quick. Instead of trying to prove my point, I said, “I love you”. She didn’t say she loved me back. Just as I said this, two guards grabbed me by both arms and dragged me back to the guillotine. Once I was back at the guillotine, the same two guards stood on each side of me to ensure I wouldn’t run off again. I was now second in line. I watched the woman before me get executed. The sight was repulsive. The executioner dropped the blade and the woman moved before the blade came down and it was a mess. Her blood erupted from her half decapitated head and worst yet she was still alive. Her scream sent chills down my spine. The executioner had to drop the blade two more times to cut her head completely off; and then it was my turn. I was terrified. The two guards placed me in the guillotine and locked it. I guess they still thought I was going to try to escape because no one else was locked in. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at that point. My time had come. When the executioner asked me if I had any final thoughts, there was nothing I could say. The executioner assuming my silence was a no, prepared to execute me as he did the other seventeen prisoners before me. I looked at the crowd one last time. To my surprise, I seen my mother in the front. She mouthed that she loved me too. I began to cry. I began to cry tears of joy. Knowing that she loved me back calmed me. I was no longer terrified. I then heard the executioner drop the blade. I had just thought of something to say...to my mother. "Mom!", I started. “I’m sorr...................”
YOU ARE READING
The Magician
HorrorA story of vengeance and consequence. Interested? Read to receive closure!!