Writing & Writers

Firing Squad


We can watch the world devoured in its pain

The Abattoir

Justice knows no bounds. When a woman slaughters her offspring and walks free, Justice always prevails. In this world and never the next.

Humans, pitiful humans. Lambs to the slaughter. Veil beings. Disgusting brutes. Hate filled and emotional. The world cries out for mercy, but no one answers. Prayers in the dark go unanswered. And what do they do? They continue to maim and kill. Rape and steal. If this is what evolution had intended from the start, then maybe Darwin was wrong.

Smell that? Burning flesh and ozone perfume the scene. It was an accident,  he’ll say. But no. Justice sweeps in – blade in hand – and severs his. If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it. For it is better to lose a single part of your body than to let the flames of hell devour you whole.

A group of four find themselves trapped beneath the ground. A cellar or a dungeon, they cannot tell the difference. Each one of them transported there without knowledge. Fear clings to them, cellophane suffocating them. The musk and thick scent of mold flows through them, sucking out the breath of their bodies. We are here to observe them. To see their decisions and their lives and their histories displayed before them. Burning and crying out, wishing for death to overtake them. In hell, the dead are not aware of the situation.

The Sinner

The sinner is a misguided hero. In his heart, he feels noble. His deeds are done selflessly. He is hated for this. He is bounded and castrated. He is sent to the firing squad and giving his last rites and meals. He prays for salvation, but Justice does not hear. As the guns are locked and loaded, aimed and fired, he feels the weight of the world released from his shoulders. He exhales. In death, his peace is found.

Several years later, when his ideals are better understood, he is relabeled a saint.

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