Christmas Wanted Him Dead
copyright 2020 Taedis
(Warning. Contains gun violence and execution.)
Based on a true story with some sci fi nonsense thrown in.
Submitted for the HistoricalJuly20 SizeRiot writing contest.
27/01/53 (10:01 PM)
It's against the rules to show myself to anyone. I could ruin everything. I could get hurt.
But the guards left Derek's cell at 8:30 and there's no sign they're coming back. They were supposed to stay with him all night playing cards. He's alone. Scared.
Derek's a convicted murderer. The tallest prisoner in Wandsworth. I'm watching him from a vent so small only a mouse could slip inside. He could kill me a dozen ways and no one would ever know I was here.
If I was thinking with my head I'd stay quiet, but my bleeding heart won't shut up.
I yell Derek's name till he looks straight at me.
02/11/52 (9:25 PM)
It took two days to climb the warehouse. It was filled with candy, but all I could smell was sulphur.
It was going to be a bad winter.
A pigeon couldn't fit where I perched, but I could see everything sitting on the lamp above the lift shed.
I heard them climbing the drainpipe before they set foot in the light on the roof. Derek looked so young. I know he's 19, but I'd only ever seen his picture before. Even babies look old in black and white.
It wasn't a heist. Not a caper. Just a couple bored guys playing crooks. Derek seemed surprised when the door to the stairs wouldn't open, like it hadn't occurred to him it'd be locked.
Derek tried to hide when he heard the police, but it was too late.