Monday, 2 May 2011
08:35:01 PM (GMT)
“I swear! I’m not lying! I wasn’t out! I was just running outside to get the
cat!” The boy was sweating now. The city guards dragged him farther and farther
down the hall. “Please! I didn’t do anything wrong!” He pleaded. Through a set
of eerie double doors, mumbles, grunts, and quick, staccato shrieks sliced through
the thick prison air. As the three advanced through the doors, the boy stopped
breathing. He knew what was coming next.
“Caleb Masterson, you understand why you’re here. You-”
“I HAVE NO FREAKIN’ IDEA WHY I’M HERE. I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.” Caleb (the
“Quiet down. You’re here, obviously, because you’ve violated some rules…
rules of which will be punished.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what those rules were? I don’t remember violating
anything. So you just tell me, refresh me, why I’m being punished.” Caleb was
“Your violations were:
1. Being outside after curfew.
2. Not keeping pets indoors.
3. Being late to work.
Each one of these violations comes with a warning. After three warnings, there is a
punishment. You’ve gotten three warnings. Hence, your punishment.” The prosecutor
looked similar to all the guards; buzz cut, dark glasses, and stocky figure.
“What the hell? First of all, I went outside so I could bring the cat in. I
wasn’t even out there for any more than two minutes! And the cat ran outside when I
locked the door!” Caleb shrieked. He was sweating now. Beads of fear ran their hot
fingers down his forehead. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was a strong boy. Nothing
could really drive him so far as to shed a single tear. He used to say… that he’d
take a bullet for his brother… that he wasn’t afraid to die… but now, in this
lonely dark, wet, cold room under the city… he realized he had lied to not only
himself, but his brother, his parents… the fear of death he thought he never had
was rising up and it triggered him to do the one thing he hadn’t done since he was
6 when he thought a monster was in his closet. He cried. And cried, and cried.
“A likely story. And being late to work?” the persecutor asked condescendingly.
Caleb made an attempt to answer.
“L-late… to w-work… I got to work and, and, and…” He sniffled and let out
another sob. “There were a few other people in line t-to punch in… so, so, so I
went to the bathroom. Wh-when I came back, I punched in, b-but I was a minute or two
late. Th-that’s all!!!” He stammered.
“Mr. Masterson, just because you’re the dictator’s son gives you no right to be
breaking the rules.” The persecutor put down the charge files and got up. He led
Caleb over to a wall and strapped his wrists and ankles to the concrete death
“NO!! NO, YOU CAN’T!! I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF MY FAMILY!! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!
IT’S NOT FAIR!!” Caleb screamed at the top of his lungs. The two guards and
prosecutor walked into a little office on the opposite side of the room. The lights
dimmed until it was nothing but black and a small LED light above a hole in the
window of the office. The barrel of a gun poked its head out of the hole. The
prosecutor began reading off information as Caleb continued begging for his life.
“Caleb O’Neil Masterson. Age 17. Punishment for being out after curfew, letting
pets outside, and being late for daily duties. Family members to notify: Mother,
father, and brother.”
“PLEASE!! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!! YOU CAN’T!!” He kept on going and going.
“Goodbye, Caleb.” The threesome in the office said quietly in unison.
“NO!! NO PLEASE!! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU!! PLEASE, I’M-” Caleb’s strong,
yet defenseless voice was cut off by a single gunshot.
The lights came on, and the guards proceeded out of the room to collect the next
victim. The prosecutor tidied up the office a bit, looked back and the bloody
lifeless body of Caleb Masterson, the dictator’s son.
“I fear that I won’t be seeing the last of the Masterson’s for a long, long
time.” He mumbled as he quietly shuffled out of the room.
Feel free to comment... tell me what you think. Does it sound enticing?