Torin Butler

School: Eastwood High School, East Renfrewshire
 

The Execution

 

Johnathan ran. Death followed him relentlessly. He was wearing a cloak blacker than black, and was carrying his long, infinitely sharp scythe in his skeletal hands. Johnathan was wearing a classy suit; the type you would wear to a wedding. His shirt was untucked and his trousers were ripped in several places. He was splattered with blood.

He ran and ran, avoiding getting tangled in a noose or being decapitated by a guillotine. He ran past forests of knives stained with blood and past same photos of the same reoccurring child. Every time he turned around death was a little bit closer.

Johnathan saw a large, grey, symmetrical building. He devoted all the energy in his body into moving his legs. If he got in he could get someone to help him. He barged through the doors.

He was walking along a long corridor. He was wearing handcuffs and was being escorted by two armed guards. He walked in silence, constantly running the same few words through his head. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it!” He eventually reached a large room. Directly in front of him was a noose. He heard a booming voice. “Johnathan Myers, you are guilty of killing the seven-year-old girl, Stacy Fisher. You are thereby sentenced to death.”

This was it. Death was about to touch him. Death brought his skeletal hand up to Johnathan’s forehead. Johnathan died instantly.

 

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