One-shot book

Execution- Monologue

This was a reasonably open task we were set which involved writing under 1000 words on literally anything. Some of these assignments were then submitted into a writing competition, honestly I don't know if this was entered or not (it probably wasn't) but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway.

SCARLET: I'm going to do this calmly and elegantly, break downs and protests are for the weak. I know I'm guilty, so I won't lose my dignity trying to claim otherwise. Do I deserve this? No, but I accept that there's nothing I can do about it. I'll just walk up there and get on with it with good grace. Everyone must die at some point... I'm just going a little sooner than I hoped. I mean it's inevitable, why not get it over with sooner?

But what if there's something I can do to save myself? I pleaded guilty, I didn't even try, there must be something I can do. I mean what happened to earning forgiveness? I don't have to die here, I can do penance. I'll do anything, a lifetime in jail, a life time of solitary confinement, heck, I'd be fine with being dumped on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere and being left to fend for myself. Anything except this, anything except death.

I keep seeing people walk up to those gallows, have that rope placed around their neck and drop. The rope tightens around their neck, their eyes bulge, I hear their last breath and then that snap. SNAP! The snap of their spine as they die! More than that, the look on their faces. That look of sheer terror, complete and utter dread, like they know exactly what's coming but can't do anything about it. Helplessness. I used to love that look, I revelled in seeing it on my victim's faces, but now I hate it... because... I feel like that. I feel all of that, and I don't know how I could ever have liked that look. I know I can't go up there. I can't do that. I can't willingly walk to my death. I just can't.

What sort of sentence is this anyway? Nowhere uses the death sentence anymore, it's barbaric. This must be the only country left on the planet that still kills people when they commit crimes. Yeah, I murdered some people, but that doesn't mean they have to sink to my level. Really, if you think about it, hanging me makes them murderers as well. There for, they should get hanged too. Which would mean their hangers should be hanged and the hanger's hangers should get hanged and... It creates a spiral. So, to avoid the spiral they should just let me live. That's logical right? Oh, who am I kidding, I am going to die and that's that.

I'm going to die.

I... I'm... going... to... t... die

Die. Death, my life is going to end. This is it for me, the end of my story. I'll never become rich and famous, never solve global warming, never achieve any of my goals. I've always thought of death as something that happens to others, but not to me. I'm supposed to get a high paying job, retire early because I'm so rich and live into my nineties. Instead I'm dying at twenty-six having made nothing of my life except getting on the top one-hundred, world's most wanted list.

Then there's all those people I'll never talk to again. My mum, I haven't talked to here for two years. She still thinks I'm in medical school learning to be a physician, I doubt she even knows I changed my name. My relationship with my dad is better, but not by much. We write letters about once every six months, nothing substantial though, just the weather, recent news events and sports results for sports that I don't even follow. I'd do anything to speak face to face with them one more time. They don't even know I'm about to die, and they probably won't work it out for another six months when dad doesn't get another letter, they might not even work it out then. In terms of other people I won't talk to again, I don't have any friends, or at least don't have any anymore. The few I did have left me as soon as they found out about my trial, I don't exactly blame them but... they did know what I was doing well before I was arrested. I guess I kind of want to speak to them again, but only if it was to tell them that they face the same fate as me. But they don't, so I can't do that, and there's no point fantasising about it.

Argh! How did I get myself into this situation? Why did I choose to throw away my life for the thrill of watching someone's life leave their eyes? Especially since I knew all along that if I got caught I'd be watching my own life leave my eyes. How was this ever something worth risking? (breathes out) (hiccups) (bursts out crying).

I can't do this! I can't die! I'm, I'm too smart, too pretty, too... rich! I've got money. I'll pay my way out. They can have all my money, that's like fifteen thousand dollars, if they just save me. Just get me out of here, and not make me die. 

(A guard walks up to Scarlet and pushes her towards the gallows.)

Oh hell! It's time!

(scarlet buckles down onto her knees)

I can't do this! (sob/hiccups) I can't die now! I just can't! (continues sobbing) It's too soon! I need more time, I need to live! I can't die now! I can't! (sobs).

(Beat)

One minute, sixty seconds, the last sixty seconds of my life. (Breaths in, breathes out) I must compose myself, I don't want to be remembered as just another one of those people who breaks down at the prospect of death, I want to do this with dignity. These gallows are not the end of the world, just the end of mine. Twenty seconds. Ten, only ten seconds left. Nine, eight, seven (breathes out), six. This is it. Five, four, rope. Three, neck. Two, drop... One.

Dead.