January 25, 1990: Amarillo, Texas

   —Blood.... Rape!

   I tied all her limbs to bed posts; I removed the bed from underneath. Her naked body looked heavenly under the blue moon. I began to carve my name on her finely tone belly; she arched her body willingly towards my sex. I leaned in closer to lick her cheek; I could still taste the kerosene. I began to cut deeply into her belly, pulling out what was rightfully mine, her life! She began to convulse, bleeding on the shag carpet, creating a pool of blood under my feet. She was dripping the last of her blood; she came in unison as her life pass. After she was dead I made my way in her, I dropped my head into that hole in her belly, and inhaled deeply her real stench, I began to feed!

March 26, 1991: Fort Stockton Unit, Fort Stockton, Texas

   I have been in jail for a whole year now. I shouldn't have killed that girl, but killing was what I did best. She didn't really put up much of a fight when I jumped her from behind. She didn't even fight as I put a towel over her full of kerosene. I tied her down on her bed, tied every limb to a bedpost, she was spread eagle when I took her sex, and then I took her higher, then I took her life. I then opened her up to reveal what was rightfully mine, her internal organs; it's a real site when you see the heart beat the last beat. The way the muscle tissues go down my throat and into my belly. Every woman that I killed I ate a little something that remind me of them, I ate their hearts. I was going to enjoy one last good fuck before I left, but her husband came in, I should have waited a little longer to see if this bitch had a husband, I thought.

   My mother told me once: Son you sure can pick them.

   Yes, I sure could. It was my luck that her husband was a cop, and I didn't hear him come in. He had his partner with him. He saw what I was doing to his wife's lifeless body and shot me right in the ass.

   Now, I'm waiting on death row.

   Nervously, I look at the clock in my jail cell. My mind runs away from me. I know what I did to get here, I know what is going to happen, the right and wrong of it, is insignificant now. I see the others, all very young, in their eyes you can see that their souls are gone, there eyes drift to their own thoughts, and dealing with their own short-comings. They all have their sad stories, but in a few hours it won't matter.

   What is of outmost importance is that, in five miserable short hours, all of us will die. Each of us must face that foreseeable fate, and the actions which guide up to it in our own way, all of us at our time. I look at my cellmates who are schedule to die tonight and wonder if they all deserved to die... the fear, the expectation, and its rightfulness of it all.

   The cell door opens and two massive 6 foot 5 guards enter. They're holding two metal containers. The darker of the guards speak, his voice is heavy and rusted, "Since, five are going to be executed tonight. You must draw straws, the shorter one will go first, biggest will go last. The warren said that all of you are to be executed before midnight that is why we're doing this." The other guard speaks, "one by one you must choose." Bobo backs away, shaking his head and peeing on the floor in terror.

   "I can't do it, I won't do it. You can all just kiss my ass!" Bobo Says.

   The darker more aggressive guard pulls him by the shoulder, looks into one of the metal containers and grabs the shorter straw. "Well, can you believe it, you will be the first to be executed." He hands the container to the other guard and tells him, to let us choose. Everyone is terrified, but our libido makes us grab the straws in unison. I will be executed next to last.

   The least aggressive guard tells us that we will be taken one by one, according to what straw we have. The guard lets us know that if we take it like a man and don't whine or cry; he will go easy. But if we don't, he will make sure we had. With that he locks us in one cell, which is roughly 7 by 7.

   We get our last meals, and suits to die in. After we finish our meals, we are dressed; each one of us is taking his sweet time dressing one minute one sock and so on. My endorphins start to kick in. Why not, I think to myself. I will die like a man, a stylish man. All of a sudden my hearts skips beats, and I know that my manly attitude will soon desert me. I come to this blinding realization; that I will die!

   The cell opens; the two guards, a priest, a doctor and the warren are with them. He points to Bobo and Miles, and the two guards take them. And just like identical twins they start shaking in unison. Bobo backs into a corner and crawls into a ball. Shaking his head and crying. "Please, I'm sorry for what I did father." When Miles hears this he begins to scream. "Why are you taking me, It's not my time yet, take him, it's not my time yet!"

   The guards grab them by the collar, and the two are taken away from the safety of the cell. The warren closes the cell, sending a nervous shock up our spine. We can hear their screaming subside as they are led down the passageway; another shock is felt as another door is slammed.

   The silence that we are creating in the cell is terrifying. I try to think of something, anything, but my mind betrays me and wonders what is going on, behind the passageway. All I could do is imagine what must be going on with Bobo and Miles. Knowing damn well that it will happen to me!

   Hector is nervously pacing back and forth. He glances around the room, his eyes dancing wildly, seeking an escape. I didn't realize I was doing the same thing, not even looking at Hector, because he and I have the same growing terror. And our souls are desperately seeking an escape.

   The minutes pass off very slowly. I desperately need for the time to go faster; I also need for the time to go slower. The waiting is what's torturing us, but I don't want the guards to come back. It’s not the thought of being dead that scares me, it's the knowledge that my dead, will never be quick, but indescribably slow.

   The cell opens again and the two guards enter, they pin Hector down, and drag him out. Hector resistance is non-existent, and muffled. As one of the guards take him away. Hector looks over his shoulder and stares at me. His eyes pierce my soul and into my heart a cold chill is felt all over my body, shaking me hard.

   I look at the slowly ticking clock at my cell. I try finding a happy place, but my mind betrays me and starts to think of what is about to come. The knowledge that I'm going to be next eats away at my strength. My breathing becomes rapid, and my body unconsciously begins to shake.

   I walk in front of my cell and grab the metal bars, I see that they are only ten other cells. My attention however is the door in front of me; I shake some more as the door opens. There, in the hall are two gurneys and two bodies lying on top. My body nervously shakes as I realize that the bodies are that of Bobo and Miles.

   I try to shake these feelings away as I pull away from the door. I didn't hear the door open as two monstrous hands pull me forward. I am being led into the execution chamber. The guard forces me into a chair, and straps me down. Two straps are placed in my chest and over my shoulders, and another is placed at my waist. My wrists and ankles are safely secure in metal cuffs, which are attached into the metal chair.

   I look around and I notice that the walls are covered with mirrors. At the center of the chamber hangs a noose as it slowly swings back and forth. I nervously notice the thickness of the rope, as well as its smoothness. The chamber is brightly lit, I look down and I notice dark dripping stains at the loop of the noose.

   I notice that Hector is being prepared. He has been stripped naked, and his ankles are being shackled to the legs of a table. He was in a black pimp stripe suit, and winded tip shoes. For some perverse reason he was allowed to keep his shoes on. He is forcefully bent over the table, and his wrists are being tightly bound in metal cuffs. The cuffs are clipped together behind Hector's back and a belt is secured around his waist. A leather strap is attached to his arms, just below his elbow.

   I hear him whimpering softly as a strap is put in place on his mouth. The darker guard grabbed one of the metal containers and took out two metal objects, one looked like a rope of anal beads, big anal beads, and the other object looked like a nine inch and an inch in width pencil. The darker guard forcefully puts the anal beads into Hector's puckered anus; one by one they're inserted until only a string of metal rope is visible. The guard forcefully turns him around and prepares to administer the other object. The guard grabs the other object and painfully puts it into Hector's urethra. I could see the skin on his penis slowly getting bigger, ripping the skin. The guard is done; he then puts another leather strap on the wrist. He is forcefully pulled upright, and the straps on his wrists are drawn up between his legs, locking the objects in place. The strap is then buckled to the belt in front. Hector is secured tightly against his body.

   The ankles are now detached from the table, and he is led, nervously shacking too his foreseeable faith. The noose is place over his head and cinched tightly on his neck. The knot is carefully position behind the neck. The ankle cuffs are latched together, now the final strap is placed just above his knees.

   Hector is now ready....

   The executioner picks up a metal box with wires coming out of it, and walks towards me. For the first time I can see the noose attached to a hoist suspended from the ceiling. I see that the metal box has a switch and a turn button on it, and it also has an up and down arrow to control the hoist.

   Then the executioner grabs the wires that are coming out of the box, the end of the wires have alligator clips. One of the clips is placed on the end of the metal rope that is coming out of his ass and the other is attached to the metal rod that's in his urethra.

   If Hector put up a fight, he will increase the speed of the knob. The guard could almost tell if he whines, if Hector cries he will make this last an eternity.

   "Hector is pissing me off, I will raise this thing to five," the darker guard says.

   "My son," the Priest says. "Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?"

   Hector is now shaking uncontrollably, but has the strength to shake his head. I can see yellowish liquid running out of his legs, but only got a reminder not to do that when his toes started too curled and smoke came out of his urethra.

   The electric humming is now bouncing off the mirror-cover walls. Hector's ass is now bleeding.

   A pulling sound is now heard, I can see the rope begin to straighten. Hector's breathing now bounces off the walls. Faster and faster, torn, and the beginning of a muffle moan coming from the back of his throat.

   I look at the executioner and he gives me a wink. I look back, he sees that I'm not looking and he quickly moves towards me, whipping my face hard, he then points to Hector. I glare at him and nervously look back.

   His breathing becomes lighting fast. He is trying to rise up on his toes to relieve the pressure on his neck. I see the heavy rope begin to tear the skin of his throat, the knot forcing his head to the left.

   His shaking is now more apparent. Hector's eyes are now looking at me, for the first time I see the real terror in them. He looks at me, pleading for me to help him, but I can't. On the elongated mirror, I see Hector's hands, desperately trembling, fingers appear to have Osteoarthritis now, his muscles flexing and contracting, his body unconsciously trying to get free.

   "GOD, NOOOOOO!" He pleads, "JEEESSSUUUUSSSS HELLLLLPPPP MEEEE DONNN'TTTT!"

   His feet, slowly, get of the floor. His body writhes frantically; the gagging of his final breaths is horrifying to my ears. I focus on the details; his face, turning purple, his neck, seriously compressed by unyielding strain of the rope, his body is swinging, shaking like a trout on a hook. His contortions tighten the noose more, cutting his neck just a little bit deeper. I see the blood now oozing from the rope. The rope becomes a darker shade of red from previous inheritors.

   Again I try to look away, but I'm force to see, what will soon happen to me. I see the trail of blood slowly trickling from the corner of Hector's mouth and down his parted chin. I watch as his struggling subsides, the nervously shaking of his extremities diminish to desperate stretches and spasms. Hector's is going in circles now; I can see his hands jerking slightly.

   His body almost still.... Only his arms are moving slightly, and his feet are searching the floor, obviously out of reaction. A final spasm in his legs causes one of his wing toe shoes to fall. In silence, His body now swings, turning from side to side, drools of blood from out of his mouth.

   He's now dead, his head, bent over right; his parted chin resting on his shoulder, blood is now dripping to his chest. Fecal matter dripping from the chain in his ass and thick blood oozing from tore-open penis. Even after death, the body is still shows spasms.

   The doctor approaches, listens for a heartbeat and finds none. He steps back and nods his head.

   The guard lowers him to the floor, and takes the noose off...

   I stare, as if transfix. As his body is lowered. The attendants roll a gurney out and place him on it, still bound. No effort what so ever to loosen the noose, which has made it way deep into Hector's neck. Once the noose is free, it is rise to a position appropriate for my height.

   One of the attendants casually picks up his shoe, and tosses it into the gurney. Then, without even covering his nakedness, they wheel him out of the chamber. Almost immediately, a fresh gurney squeaks its way into the room. I realize, with a blinding realization, is for me.

   The same procedure is done to me, the final straps are attached to my wrist and I'm pulled back into a standing position. It is ran between my legs and drawn up my thigh in front. The metal corks, which are still partially expose, push deeper into my body from the force of the straps.

   My ankles are release, and I'm forcefully turned towards the noose. For the first time, I see John, strap down on a chair that I occupied only a few minutes ago. He is nervously shaking and twisting violently, shaking his head, trying to seek an escape. I know it's useless. I also know that there are only a few minutes in my own life. And they will be spent in agony. The way that Hector died is imprinted into my sub-consciousness forever. Even now, I experience again the scene of him dying, nervously shaking and trying to gasp for air, as life escaped his body.

   As I'm walk to the noose, the metal corks rub against each other inside me. I do not struggle my mind betrays me and focuses on the rope in front of me. The rope growing too immense proportions as I approach closer...still. The noose is pulled over my head. I can feel the other's blood; I could almost smell the fear coming out of the noose. He jerks his hand to tighten it. I immediately gasp for air, even without the upward pressure. I know what will soon come. The movements my body makes scrapes skin off my neck. My metal cuffs are connected, the straps on my knees are bucked into place, and it is very hard to keep my balance.

   My executioner raises me from my restrained legs; he stares maliciously into my eyes, and grinning.

   "No crying, no shacking. It's the softest of the shocks for you... Giddy up!"

   My breath is already escaping from me; it’s now incredibly hard to breath. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Without really wanting to, my eyes focus on my reflection in the mirrored wall. I see, myself, standing naked, bound by leather, with glowing red heavy rope around my neck. I can see my chest and stomach nervously trying to suck back air into my brain. And for the first time, I see the cop whose wife I killed, forcefully turned away from my suffering.

   "Any last words?" The priest asks

   I choose not to respond, I am nervously shaking, as I'm focus on the reflection on the mirror.

   I hear the gentle running of a motor and my heart begins to beat faster than I ever heard in my life. I see the rope begin to straighten in the mirror. My body begins to frolic about. My nervousness is harder to control; it is almost impossible to keep my balance.

   The running of the motor goes on and on, there is still no change in the rope. Again, I look at the mirror and I see that it is. My eyes are now focusing on the chair that John is occupying. He begins to piss his pants when he sees my face.

   I can feel the noose tightening. At first, it's slightly tighter, but then I feel the lost of air in my breath. Then, it begins to tear the flesh on my neck. I stand on my toes to see if I could relieve some of the pressure.

   All of a sudden, I now see why they let me keep my shoes. It gives me extra inches when I stand on my toes. I find that I have no more room to raise my feet, space becomes non-existent. I will another extra inch, but I only manage to come up with extra centimeters. But the rope continues to slowly rise. My breathing is now snivels and moans as I continue to fight for at least more seconds in my life.

   I look in the mirror again, and I see myself, barely touching the table, struggling to keep my footing. I feel the rope painfully digging into my flesh, shocking me, lifting me, and slowly killing me. I feel a strange sensation that I'm pissing and shitting myself. I can now feel that my stomach contents slowly ascending, inflating my stomach, I feel a painful burst. The more I try to shake this painful feeling away, a painful shock surges my body. I get a reminder that the noose is becoming tighter, cutting the blood supply to my brain. It is becoming harder to get even the tiniest bit of air.

   I can hear horrific sounds, like someone dragging a hard object across metal flooring. I notice in more of a shock that the dragging sounds are my own attempts to breathe. Desperately, I try to move my hands, my legs, anything to give me a little bit more air. But all I manage to do is make the noose tighter... still. The anal beads and the metal urethra cork coming out of my penis shocks my insides.

   For the last time I look at myself, I am now a full 2 feet off the floor. I see the noose digging deeper into my neck. Blood is seeping down my chest and into my crotch area, causing more shocks inside of me. I see my final futile spasms of involuntary movement. My vision begins to cloud over. The sounds of my final gasps are echoing farther and farther... still. Without warning my body is wracking by involuntary violent spasms. I can feel my final orgasm escaping my body, causing all my muscles to tense. A pleasurable feeling escapes from out of me.

   I see myself drifting, floating free. I escape from my body, slithering slowly out of my form. I don't hurt anymore; I am simply an observer now. I see the doctor approaching me; he checks for a heartbeat, he nods his head and steps away. I now see John is being prepared.

   I float towards the cops whose wife I killed, and I whisper in his ear, "But then again, you’ll have this." As I slowly descend.

 ©2004 Zombie "TheJesus" Dirge

Zombie "TheJesus"Dirge is a writer for the Los Angeles Times "Business Section." He lives with his pet lizard that is addicted to crack, a girl whose name he can't remember, and a smell that has being lingering for years.