A prisoner set to face death row writes his thoughts on a notepad, his motives for his horrific murders and his view on life itself.


1. Naught

"Prisoner 122, wake up" I awoke as a prison warden shook me, no emotions showed on his 

face. After placing shackles on my wrists and leading me out of the building, I was put 

into a van. I was being led to where I would have my last meal, I'm looking foward to 

eating my favourite food one last time, Hard boiled eggs and a chocolate milkshake to wash 

it down. The meal satisfied me, but I can't help but laugh. The prison officer looks at me 

with a confused stare. I explain what amuses me so much, the same thing that inspired me to 

desperatly request that I could write this as I wait on my end coming. The evil acts I had 

done, the lives I've destroyed, the people I've hurt, all of it at that moment, was handing 

me a small reward, a limited time of luxury, one of many paradoxes I can't grasp that's 

occured on my journey.


This is a short little story of a man who couldn't quite find the point in life, someone 

who killed a small number of people in a desperate plea for a role in this game. I couldn't 

word myself well when asked to deliver my last words, but I know for certain I can at least 

create a more clear account of what dwelled in my mind when I committed the horrible crimes 

that has led to now. 


I assume whoever has gotten around to reading this now will be happy to know my troubles 

did not begin at childhood, to be honest I had a good life as a young kid, no abuse from my 

parents, who had stayed together until death, I had good times and friends at the couple of 

schools I attended, so I guess the question is what happened after that, what was it that 

destroyed the pleasant image and ambition I had for life? I'm not even too sure myself 

honestly, as time went one, the rules, the objectives, the entire game of life became more 

and more confusing, suddenly I found myself from being content with it all to not even 

knowing my role anymore. I remember the sleepless nights I'd spend trying to figure it out. 

I was single, I had a low end job at a local I.T firm, and I had suddenly lost contact with 

any friend I may have had. When I lost my job, I ended up on benefits, I was constantly 

worried about losing my flat and my parents were killed in a car crash. I suppose having a 

drinking problem or being addicted to drugs at that point would have completed that series 

of misfortunes that is sterotyped in media these days. 


The first incident happened in my flat, an arguement with my landlord turned physical, and 

then escalated even further to the point of a blade being wedged into his chest. As I 

watched the life fade from his eyes, and heard the last of his oxygen going into his body, 

I knew I should of felt horrified, guilty or even worried, but strangly I felt something 

that I thought would have been the last thing I should have felt after killing someone. I 

felt determined, determined find my life's purpose, to live my life out for as long as I 

was destined to. I felt like I would get closer to the answer with each death I caused. 

I started with the young twins and their single mother that lived across the hall from me. 

I managed to convince her to have me over for some tea. It would be the last sip of tea 

they'd ever have, after I poured Arsenic into their cups, and watched as they squirmed and 

collpased. I tried to find an emotion in my head as a reaction to the horrific act I just 

commited and found nothing of remorse or satisfaction, I simply felt as if I had made a 

blind move in a board game, having no idea what the rules are or how to play for that 

matter. As I thought about my next move, I realised that the path I had begun to walk 

wasn't working. Mindless, cold-blooded murders would only get me so far, I decided then 

that my next step would be beyond life itself, but to be honest, I was, and still am, a 

complete coward and little tolerance for pain. So I decided that I'd turn my first step 

into a complete journey in a different way. I phoned the police using the woman's cell 

phone and waited on the flats rooftop for them to arrive. In court I was handed the death 

sentence and was to remain in custody until then. 


Twenty years of waiting, doing the same routine everyday hasn't been pleasant, if only for 

how long it has been repeating tself. It has however given me plenty of time to reflect on 

my acts, as well as my overall goal, and as I sit on my bed writing all this down on this 

notepad, I can safely say that I'm no closer to finding my role in this game at this moment 

than I was when I moved from my parent's into my flat. In just 6 hours exactly, I face my 

punishment, though to me it's more like the door to the answer is opening, whither there's 

an afterlife, reincarnation, Heaven, Hell or even nothing at all, I'll finally know how 

this game works.

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