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Light burned, forcing into the criminal’s eyes. He squinted, the light was pain. Painful after being kept in a pitch black cell for two weeks. None of the cameras got in there; noting, not even food, got into the cell. The criminal was pushed to the ground, then hauled back up, spit assaulting his neck. Those prison guards were evil. The criminal knew, he had known. He knew they were all evil, pure evil, pure fuckin’ evil, all of them. The cameras were evil, the people watching were evil, those people who let him be punished. Pure fucki…. Vomit spilled out of his dry mouth, covering his feet in foul-smelling green liquid. The cameras caught up to him; the directors quickly edited out the vomit. They manipulated footage to make him look like he was spitting at the guards and attempting to punch them; unsuccessfully, of course. People around his path screamed and verbally maimed the criminal, giving him as much sympathy as Judas; “Shitbag! Bastard! Mutherfucker! Murderer!” He had heard them all before…
Has the jury reached a verdict?
Yes your honor. On the account of first degree murder of the President of the United States, we find the defendant guilty as charged. On the charge of treason by conspiring with terrorists, we find the defendant guilty as charged. On the account of blah blah banana, blah blah guilty, nothing nothing nothing. Blah defendant blah blah two weeks in nothing nothing, no food, blah no communication blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah identity erased blah blah beheading blah nothing nothing.
Case dismissed.
The criminal knew all of it was a lie. He didn’t understand how he got there in the first place… vomit erupted, smashing into three cameras. All he could remember was when he saw a man in the cell with him on the first day, and then the man was gone, telling the criminal that he would come back soon. But he still hadn’t seen… vomit sprayed, the criminal was pushed down again. People began throwing rotten vegetables at him. He still hadn’t seen the man yet. The criminal looked up at the platform with the rope. The guards tripped him and his face smashed into the stairs. Blood covered his eyes. A red film covered them; he couldn’t see the man even if tried now. His nose dripped with it, his eyes were useless, his mouth sprayed out the vomit. Mixed with blood, it turned into a sickly black liquid, all over the bottom of the stairs. The guards, those evil guards, they kicked him into the stairs. His eyes, they were useless, the mouth threw up again, kick after kick, make them stop the goddamn kicking, keep them from kicking him. The cameras couldn’t edit fast enough. The criminal was vomiting, blood, vomit, the guards, all in millions of TVs across the world. The criminal could feel the people watching, the kicks. He couldn’t keep his eyes working….
There he was. The man was there standing at the platform top. The criminal couldn’t believe his eyes. No more cameras. No more guards. No more blood, no more vomit, no more people, who hated the core of him.
That cowardly bastard of a man, I’m sickened to be a human being in the same country with him.
Is that what they said to you?
Yeah.
You’ll be hearing it some more.
Huh?
You heard me.
Nobody on your Earth likes you. How can I expect anybody in Heaven to differ in opinions?
What?
No one thinks you’re innocent.
You admitted to being guilty, even.
But…
And since I can’t convince the Father to let you in, there’s no other way to go.
No…
So, catch you later, fuckhead.
The criminal woke up. His eyes were still covered in this crap, that black, sticky shit that he threw up. He felt something in his neck. The air was gone, he was floating. More of the shit came from his mouth; his body was covered with blood, from the splatter of the axe. The criminal no longer existed.
I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead… How’d it happen, what the fuck happened? I only said I was guilty… Family… They were going to be killed… Only… If I admitted… They wouldn’t… They’d keep them alive… Only if he admitted to doing it… He hadn’t done anything… It wasn’t real… A dream, a fragment of his imagination… He’d wake up and see his beautiful daughter tomorrow… and he’d fuck with his beautiful girlfriend… But, wait… He sees them now… There’s his daughter, floating with him… come closer, baby… I’m here for you… I’m dead… I’m dead…
A man stood in his office.
“Mr. President?”
“What?”
“It’s over now. We’ve sent the documents concerning your resurrection.”
“Thank you. My religion… It will become the religion of all, once they see that it can bring people back to life.”
The man laughed.
“Too bad about that criminal. It’s a false execution, but he’ll never know it.”
“Yes, we have his body at hand, for the disintegration pile, Mr. President.”
“Fuckin’ great. Bring me my cigar case, Dick. And take one for yourself, too.”
“You don’t have to tell me a second time.”
I’m dead, I’m dead… Honey, what’s this I feel? There are flames, they’re hot. I can feel them burning my skin… No, don’t leave… We can meet up… God will see what the truth is… He’ll find out that the President is full of shit… Just because he worships God… That doesn’t mean a fuck, I’m still going to Heaven, nobody can tell me different… After all I went through, I’m not going to be stopped… I’m going to be with you… I’m dead… I’m dead… Those flames, they’re fuckin’ burning me, I’m nothing, and I’m dead… They killed me… They took my head off, and they took your heads off… I’m dead, and you are, too…I can't see you, nothing... It's all black, everything is gone... Because I'm dead...
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Confused
Posted Jun 30, 2008
I like the stream-of-consciousness, to a point. The beginning of the story is also promising as well as vivid; the first several sentences kept me engaged to find out what exactly was going on.
Repetition is good, but the buildup of usages of "vomit," "evil," &qu... (
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