Neo Kervoskia
31-12-2005, 03:06
This is possibly the most graphic story I have ever written. It is about the sadism of humanity, how it is condemned and condoned. Always about desperation. I would love if someone could make it, er, presentable. Less violent. Enjoy.
Zeitgeist
My cell was one of generous accomodation. Of course when compared to ones own home, it was without say far below par. However, this was acceptable for the time being. It was a grey room constructed from a brittle material. I could easily scratch my name into the wall. Not that there was any room on which I could make my mark. The cell was marked with the final hopes and regrets, initials, epics, and the usual scriptures from John and the Gospels. The floor was very cold and was brown. There were patches of dried blood. It was recent and I recall the incident quite well. The previous occupant, a young man of not more than twenty years of age, was sentenced to death. A rather lenient sentence in my honest opinion. I do not remember the exact crime, but I believe it was treason. Forgive me for my memory. Within a few minutes it will come back to me in all of its splendid details. Now, the patches of blood. The young man protested his fate and with the force of a madman he threw one of the guards, a stout man of middle age, but with white hairs already forming around his hairline, into the far left wall.
The guard's head hit the wall and was rendered unconcious. The other guard, who was about the same height and build as his elder companion, reached for his nightstick. This being the only weapon in his possession at the time. The prisoner grabbed the guard's wrist and attempted to break his hand. All of this time my hands were chained and I was being escorted to that very cell, accompanied by two other guards, and I had spectacular view of the entire event. I was the first one to notice this and I felt it was my civic duty to report this barbary to the proper authorities. I bent over slighty to the guard at my right and briefly described the scene that was occuring down the hall. He repeated this information to his companion and the three of us ran down the hall. However in this haste I could not keep my balance and I stumbled. I could not push myself up because of the chains so I lied there on the floor in this most uncomfortable position as the events unfolded, my view only slighty obstructed.
The young prisoner was a vicious fighter, of course this was fueled by his desperation to preserve his life. A third guard entered the cell, this one carrying a small six-shooter in a black leathe holster. The prisoner saw this and glared at it for a moment to forumalte his next manuever. He made a dash for the guard and managed to successively take the gun. He aimed it at the guards who were now several feet back. He attempted to fire upon them, but to his horror the gun jammed. As he was trying fto hastily correct the malfunction, two of the guards tackled him and forced him onto the floor. The third guard departed the cell and went into a small room nearby. When he left, he had what resembled a hammer and a small tin canister. What would happen next was not inhumane, but justified. It was the fulfilling of the justice deemed necessary by the highest court in the land.
He kneeled down next to the prisoner and took from the canister a rusted nail of six inches in length and placed the point of it on the prisoner's lower left of corner of his shoulder. The young man attempted to bend his head back into a position favourable to him, but he was restrained by the weight of the guards. Sweat rolled down his face as there was a silence. Then the guard picked up the hammer and grasped it in his hand and aimed it at the nail. With gentlility he began to drive the nail into the youngman's back. His face began to redden as he made loud, yet restrained, noises. This amused me. This half-gasping, half-horrified, noise reminded me of a pig about to be slaughtered. I could resist and I gave into my laughter. The guards heard this and turned there heads briefly. They gave a shrug and returned to their merriment.
The nail did not penetrate far enough and the top half of it was still above the surface of his clothing. The elder gaurd, who had been unconscious for most of the time, awoke.His comrades assisted him and the youngest of the guards said, "We have a little rascal here. Care to help us with his rehabilitation?" The guard made a gesture towards the prisoner.
"Most certainly. I work for the law. The law is my mother and as such I will do its bidding." replied the elder guard. He stumbled over to where the prisoner was and lifted his heavy foot above the nail. Then he pushed the nail the rest of the way into his back. The force was so great that the young man nearly jumped from his position. He began to scream in pain, tears were streaming down his eyes. The elder guard bent down and was picked up the gun from the floor. He placed it near the youngman's temple. At this point he was near death and when ge felt the metal against his head, he craved it. The elder guard laughed and moved the gun away, dimishing the prisoner's remaining hopes of a quick end.The prisoner pushed himself up and put his mouth over the barrel. The guards laughed and the one with the hammer commented, "If he wishes to depart from us so quickly, then let's give our dear friend a proper goodbye."
The youngman did not know whether to rejoice or to fear what would come. The youngest guard went into the same room and brought out with him a two by four around eight feet in length. He took it into the cell. They stretched the youngman's arms over the board and held the flesh to the wood together with three nails in each hand and one through each wrist. The youngman was made to walk to a line in the middle of the corridor and there he was shot in the head. His brains were now scattered across the floor. The guards pushed them aside and escorted me to my new home.
That event was two months ago, but it is still as clear as day to me. I have no more time for this, the guards are approaching. Through the bars I see two of them and a priest. I can't imagine a fier pair than they to assist me in my final moments. Until then I will await patiently to meet the hangman and his company.
Zeitgeist
My cell was one of generous accomodation. Of course when compared to ones own home, it was without say far below par. However, this was acceptable for the time being. It was a grey room constructed from a brittle material. I could easily scratch my name into the wall. Not that there was any room on which I could make my mark. The cell was marked with the final hopes and regrets, initials, epics, and the usual scriptures from John and the Gospels. The floor was very cold and was brown. There were patches of dried blood. It was recent and I recall the incident quite well. The previous occupant, a young man of not more than twenty years of age, was sentenced to death. A rather lenient sentence in my honest opinion. I do not remember the exact crime, but I believe it was treason. Forgive me for my memory. Within a few minutes it will come back to me in all of its splendid details. Now, the patches of blood. The young man protested his fate and with the force of a madman he threw one of the guards, a stout man of middle age, but with white hairs already forming around his hairline, into the far left wall.
The guard's head hit the wall and was rendered unconcious. The other guard, who was about the same height and build as his elder companion, reached for his nightstick. This being the only weapon in his possession at the time. The prisoner grabbed the guard's wrist and attempted to break his hand. All of this time my hands were chained and I was being escorted to that very cell, accompanied by two other guards, and I had spectacular view of the entire event. I was the first one to notice this and I felt it was my civic duty to report this barbary to the proper authorities. I bent over slighty to the guard at my right and briefly described the scene that was occuring down the hall. He repeated this information to his companion and the three of us ran down the hall. However in this haste I could not keep my balance and I stumbled. I could not push myself up because of the chains so I lied there on the floor in this most uncomfortable position as the events unfolded, my view only slighty obstructed.
The young prisoner was a vicious fighter, of course this was fueled by his desperation to preserve his life. A third guard entered the cell, this one carrying a small six-shooter in a black leathe holster. The prisoner saw this and glared at it for a moment to forumalte his next manuever. He made a dash for the guard and managed to successively take the gun. He aimed it at the guards who were now several feet back. He attempted to fire upon them, but to his horror the gun jammed. As he was trying fto hastily correct the malfunction, two of the guards tackled him and forced him onto the floor. The third guard departed the cell and went into a small room nearby. When he left, he had what resembled a hammer and a small tin canister. What would happen next was not inhumane, but justified. It was the fulfilling of the justice deemed necessary by the highest court in the land.
He kneeled down next to the prisoner and took from the canister a rusted nail of six inches in length and placed the point of it on the prisoner's lower left of corner of his shoulder. The young man attempted to bend his head back into a position favourable to him, but he was restrained by the weight of the guards. Sweat rolled down his face as there was a silence. Then the guard picked up the hammer and grasped it in his hand and aimed it at the nail. With gentlility he began to drive the nail into the youngman's back. His face began to redden as he made loud, yet restrained, noises. This amused me. This half-gasping, half-horrified, noise reminded me of a pig about to be slaughtered. I could resist and I gave into my laughter. The guards heard this and turned there heads briefly. They gave a shrug and returned to their merriment.
The nail did not penetrate far enough and the top half of it was still above the surface of his clothing. The elder gaurd, who had been unconscious for most of the time, awoke.His comrades assisted him and the youngest of the guards said, "We have a little rascal here. Care to help us with his rehabilitation?" The guard made a gesture towards the prisoner.
"Most certainly. I work for the law. The law is my mother and as such I will do its bidding." replied the elder guard. He stumbled over to where the prisoner was and lifted his heavy foot above the nail. Then he pushed the nail the rest of the way into his back. The force was so great that the young man nearly jumped from his position. He began to scream in pain, tears were streaming down his eyes. The elder guard bent down and was picked up the gun from the floor. He placed it near the youngman's temple. At this point he was near death and when ge felt the metal against his head, he craved it. The elder guard laughed and moved the gun away, dimishing the prisoner's remaining hopes of a quick end.The prisoner pushed himself up and put his mouth over the barrel. The guards laughed and the one with the hammer commented, "If he wishes to depart from us so quickly, then let's give our dear friend a proper goodbye."
The youngman did not know whether to rejoice or to fear what would come. The youngest guard went into the same room and brought out with him a two by four around eight feet in length. He took it into the cell. They stretched the youngman's arms over the board and held the flesh to the wood together with three nails in each hand and one through each wrist. The youngman was made to walk to a line in the middle of the corridor and there he was shot in the head. His brains were now scattered across the floor. The guards pushed them aside and escorted me to my new home.
That event was two months ago, but it is still as clear as day to me. I have no more time for this, the guards are approaching. Through the bars I see two of them and a priest. I can't imagine a fier pair than they to assist me in my final moments. Until then I will await patiently to meet the hangman and his company.