The rustling of wind on leaves in the tall trees above, the sounds of the birds singing their joyful songs and the sights of them flying high through the air without a care in the world, butterflies fluttering in the nearby gardens where the children played and waited patiently lying so still in the grass for a butterfly to land on them; screaming in delight as they did. Most would call this a beautiful day, the most glorious day of the entire month, possibly.

Not for me, for I am on death row, and my execution date is today at high noon. Everyone in town is coming to see me fall and hung, my twitching body slow to a still stop, announcing my death. The crowd would cheer; my demise would announce a safer town.

I looked in the cracked mirror that hung in my isolation cell, I don't even recognize my own face; gray and pale from the long years behind iron bars, and brown streaks of filth on some areas of my face from lack of cleanliness inside, and a face that all of the town had come to hate so much.

A fly comes into my cell, another plague to society, another hated thing. It lands in front of me, still as if dead. I picked it up in my fingers; it began to protest the sudden contact. I stared at it and thought of myself. I am the fly; hated, sneered at, swatted at, unwanted, it brought death, and death was brought upon it.

With my other hand, I gripped one of it's tiny, paper thin wings, and pulled it off, holding the detached wing into the sunlight, I watched it glisten. I dropped the wing and watched it flutter down to the floor. I turned back to the suffering fly and pulled it's other wing off as well, dropped it, and watched it flutter to the floor. I then watched the fly suffer and slowly die.

By the time the insect was dead, the officers came to let me out so I could be executed. One had the black hood and cuffs, and the other had a scroll of paper that was obviously what my rights were. They unlocked my cell, cuffed me, and led me to the gallows. When the harsh daylight hit my eyes, I truly saw how many people hated me. The crowd was immense; I couldn't believe how many people had crowded around the platform of the gallows, it was like a sea. I looked up at the surrounding rocks; more crowds of people, some people had even brought their children. It actually looked as if the whole state was here to celebrate my execution.

I was led to the raised floor of the gallows as the officer read my name, and while he was reading my rights, the second officer wrapped the hangman’s noose around my neck. I looked around me; the spectators were waiting anxiously for my death. The officer asked me if I wanted to say anything before I die and I replied with a shake of my head, immediately following the black hood was thrown over my head, cancelling out my vision. I heard the squeaking of the lever that controlled the trap door under my feet was pulled and I plummeted through the opening, the noose growing tighter and tighter on my neck, constricting my throat; preventing me from getting any air into my lungs. The crowd cheered as I began to twitch at the lack of oxygen. Slowly, ever so slowly to me, I died just like the fly, the last thing I murdered before my own death. Hearing the crowd roar with joy when I was pronounced dead, I am just like the fly, suffering before its death.

And the crowd goes wild at my demise...

Inspired by:
"My Demise" - Wednesday 13

Wow. I am very impressed with your story. I love that song and I must say I love this story

WOW!! This is the best one yet. You describe things in excellent detail. I especially like the contrast - the beginning so beautiful and pretty with butterfilies and children then the ugly, dirty, greyness of the isolation cell.

@Vangoghmetal
Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me...at three-thirty a.m...without my glasses...and when I can hardly see my damn keyboard =D And would you believe I wrote this in thirty to forty minutes? I kind of made it around Wednesday's song because that song had been stuck in my head since February

@Ghost Writer: I can't believe how quick you wrote this. I guess Wednesday is great inspiration! I wish I could paint that quick.