This is the prologue to an old story of mine that I published a few years ago on Wattpad.
“Dead Man Walking.”
His sharp black eyes were quick to catch the sneer of the prison guard just to the right of him. Dan Andrews never had one thing in his life to be proud of, but if he had to think of something then as he walked past the row of occupant prison cells, it was how he could hold his tongue. Although, little things like that wouldn’t matter anymore to his relatives, his friends, or acquaintances; all they’d be talking about now was how Andrews, shy old Andrews, had found himself in the chair for the savage murder of a family.
He could see it now, the cherry oak door. Behind it was the device that would be used to end his life. Once the door was opened to them, about 60-even something eyes all turned around to look at the culprit. Dan swallowed and tried his best to keep his eyes boldly on the chair.
‘Don’t let them see you cry…keep your chin up….you’ve already prayed…you’ll be ok, alright?’ He tried to repeat to himself over and over again even as he was strapped into the execution chair. He could barely hear the guard talking over his own thoughts. What was that? Last words?
“I-” and that’s when he froze. Among all the witnesses, he recognized only one. His heart twisted painfully and he continued to stare, unblinking, unmoving. The man that he was looking at quickly caught his stare and paled. His eyes fell to the floor, as that was a much easier thing to look at.
“Come on, tell them! You were there, speak up!’ The broken man thought, hoping a miracle would happen, but all remained quiet.
“Looks like he’s not going to talk,” one of the guards said and looked over to the executioner who in return looked at the clock. 10 seconds until. Both the citizens and guards alike were getting impatient, and no one, not even the executioner acknowledged the grave mistake they were making.
“Wait sir, the chair! It’s-!”