Stage Fright

         The stage has been set, a lonely chair sitting in the middle of the arena as the crowd swarms into the audience. I sit back in my little room, a nervous wreck to say the least. The saying goes, “time flies when you’re having fun”, but the past couple of months haven’t been fun at all, like a never ending rut parallel to dead end jobs. It’s more like “the time I kill is killing me”. Nothing special stands out when you look around my room; a bed and a sink more or less, tucked into the little nook in the corner is a small window that allows light to peek in once in a while so the sun can visit me, which seldom does. I sometimes wish I could turn back time; I would change everything. The misunderstandings, the arguments, the times I could be a better man when I decided to turn a blind eye and be another faceless figure in the crowd. That is what brought me here, to answer for everything in my life, everything I have done wrong, and to make peace with myself and those who know me. I wish I could do it another way, but this was the best option; to repent and wipe the slate dry. My security detail come to the door, and gets me prepared for the performance. I can’t understand why people come to watch me; there are bigger stars out there to watch by the constellations. Walking down the lonely hallway, I see my life in a montage of jumping down the rabbit hole and forgetting to look before I leap. All the people who loved me, and those who I loved and held close. I hope they forgive me. I can’t think of how insignificant I’d feel if this reconciliation doesn’t bring the message of “I’m sorry” to their hearts, and help them find the strength to say “I Love You” again. Sitting in the chair, my arms and legs are strapped down tightly, held by thick bands of leather and buckles, as they dig their touch of death into my flesh and bone. The sergeant that escorted me down The River Styx gets up in front of the crowd, blocking the harsh light that stabs my eyes, blinding me from the faces of the vengeful in the crowd. Here we go it’s show time! The sergeant glares into my eyes and says, “Darryl Eugene Morris, you were condemned to death by a jury via electrocution, do you have any last words?”

         “Swift as night Death comes.” And so he did.