Typical Day
by Jonathan
Walton
| : : For eight long years I have sat upon death row and
finally the day has come that my curtain is going to close. For 243
months, I have been locked inside this cell and for 2920 days -
my life has been nothing short of hell. The moment draws near where I
will take my last walk (pause) and with the victim’s family I will
have my very last talk. As I finish the last bite of this, my last
meal, the concept of death I begin to grasp. To a wooden chair my body
will be strapped, and a metal cap put upon my head - electricity will
be run throughout my entire body until at last, I am dead. Ten pairs
of eyes, will stare gape and gawk, quite possibly enjoying the site of
my life being lost. I remember staring into the those same eyes, those
same frowning faces. The prosecutor shouting insults, back and forth
as he paces. I testified in my own defense, “I wasn’t there,” I
cried. “I don’t even own a gun, so how in God’s name could I
have shot someone?” Upon the truth I swore and all of the words I
said were true but all at once the lawyer turned and said, “Why
should they believe you?” The foreman began to rise and he handed
down a verdict of guilty. All at once I rose to my feet and at the top
of my lungs, I began to scream. “I don’t belong in prison - get
your hands off of me!” I fought as they put cuffs on my hands, and
chains on my feet; but it didn’t matter what I did- to prison they
carried me. My lawyer filed appeal after appeal, but we could make no
one believe. Awaiting my sentence, I sat within this cement block. I
spent many nights crying out to God, “Lord I have done nothing
wrong, nothing!” “Please God, don’t leave me here to rot. I
don’t think I co! uld take it Lord. No, I know that I could not.”
Later that month I received my sentence, the words pierce my heart to
this day. The foreman again stood to rise and before he sat, I was
condemned to die. I haven’t seen the stars in eight years, if you
could count the drops in the oceans - only then could you begin to
count my tears. I am all but forgotten, my family no longer visits me.
All I have left are thoughts and memories.
My mother used to cook breakfast on Sunday morning as she sang
Amazing Grace, the love of God, shown off her face. As she kneaded the
biscuits it would go something like this, (sings verse of
Amazing Grace). My wife, she had the smile of an angel. I swear you
could see wings, if you gazed from just the right angle. The birth of
my daughter, so small within my arms. I remember the first time she
called me Daddy, it filled a void with in my heart. But my third year
here, my momma passed away. I missed her funeral, the month of January,
that fourth Monday. My wife remarried and my daughter should be
thirteen; I am all but forgotten, no more visits to Daddy. The last
bite settles in my stomach and the warden instructs me to rise. I have
resolved in my mind that I am going to die. I walk the last one
hundred feet, one foot in front of the other - left then right, left
then right. The chains clank across the floor, I squint my eyes in the
light. I try to turn my wrists but I meet pain - the shackles so tight.
I walk into the room, with my head held high. I enter into the
witnesses’ midst wearing not a frown nor a smile. The
executioner asked for my last words and I look each victim in the eye.
“The state killed me years ago, gave me a number - I no longer had a
name. Inmate number 49536, I was not a person, I was a convict. I used
to be a man until I came here, now I’m part of an unwanted
clan. A group of rejected individuals, clasped in chains and wearing
orange suits. This was not the way it was supposed to be! Just as your
loved one’s life was stolen, the state, the judge, the jury, - each
and every one of you; stole my life from me. I have been raped and
beaten, ridiculed and scorn. I looked up to God and cursed the day I
was born. My spirit is broken and my heart forever dismayed. My body
stands before you, but my mind has passed away.” The shackles were
secure and the metal cap put into place, as the tears began to flow
down my troubled face. “Please Lord, take me quick! I am not worthy
of this punishment. You are the only one who can read my heart and you
know that I am innocent.” I looked over to the wall and the
executioner began to reach for the lever. So before the electricity
flowed through my veins, I look up to heaven. “The Lord is my
Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh to lie down in green pastures,
He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me
on the path of righteousness for his namesake. Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death; I will fear no evil, for
thou art with me. (stops abruptly, body convulses, and dies)
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