A Sinner’s Death is A Saint’s Reward.

The last day of my life was dawning. Dawn – I

haven’t even seen a dawn for over ten years. My life

enters its sunset at dawn and I honestly can’t remember

what either look like. It doesn’t matter anyhow.


“Son, I brought the chaplain just in case you

wanted to…” The warden stumbled with his words, “…well,

anyhow. He is here. I will give you two some time.”


The cell door was opened. I always hated the

metallic clang it made, echoing throughout the entire

cell block. The bars were a dull black. They were cold

and never good companions. I won’t miss those bars. The

grey walls were just as lifeless as the black bars. The

air was without life as well. It kind of hung there like

a dense fog that never quite lifted. The chaplain,

Brother Mike, walked in and the cell door was closed

again. Clang… Echo… Silence… It would be mercifully

over this morning.


Mike sat down next to me on the bunk. He was

wearing a drab black suit. His black tie seemed to

somehow merge with the white shirt underneath, as if

black and white had no contrast to one another. I

suppose that black is worn for mourning and respect sake,

but some color would have been nice. It seems like it

has been forever since I have seen colors. Every shade I

see just blends into one another lifelessly.


“Max, this is as far as I can travel with you on

your path,” the chaplain said with his head down. “I am

not sure what I can tell you today that I have not

already shared.”


“Thank you, Mike. I have been looking forward

to eternity, as there is nothing left in this life

keeping me here. My wife left this earth long ago, and I

will see her soon. I hope…”


“There is, perhaps, one thing you have yet to do

in this life,” the chaplain said, raising his head from

the floor and looking me in the eye. “We have never, in

all these years, talked about why you are here. You have

claimed innocence, but yet never once told me what

happened. I didn’t want to press the issue, but it is

the moment of truth. If you are not innocent, it is time

to confess and bring some healing to that family in the

other room. This is your last opportunity in this life

to confess your sins.”


“Brother Mike, the only sin that I regret is

that I did not live my life more fully. The only crime I

have ever committed is speeding. I can’t offer that

family out there anything as I have nothing to give.”


I didn’t want to remember back to that night.

My attempt at saving a life is the very reason I am here

losing mine. Mike is right; this is my last opportunity

to remember. We watched the film together on a gossamer

canvas. The picture was as clear to me now as it was

years ago, but the actors were all two dimensional and

lifeless. Brother Mike, my pastor and companion for all

these years, could offer no solace.


“You know Max, innocence was sacrificed once

before on this earth, and it meant something. That

surrender of innocence gave comfort to many. Perhaps,

well... You know that girl was innocent too. Somebody

sacrificed her innocence and her parents believe it is

you. Will justice be served for her parents? Will they

receive closure if you are innocent too?


The warden walked up to the cell door and said

solemnly, “It is that time, Maxwell.”


There were several guards with him, all dressed

in drab blue prison uniforms. Even the shields on their

left breast pocket looked dull. One of the guards was

holding a shotgun in his hands. I suppose he was

prepared in case I offered resistance. Where could I run

to? I thought I was ready, but now I begin to wonder if

one can be ready for the end.


The chaplain stood and looked me in the eye for

the last time and said, “Maybe there is yet something you

can give.”


He took my hand and helped me up off of the bed,

and bowed his head for a quick prayer. I couldn’t close

my eyes while the chaplain said the prayer. I looked at

the guards, and they all looked back. Their eyes stared

coldly at me. I felt nothing from their looks. There

was no hatred, love, or emotion at all. I suppose with

this job you have to be that way. I wonder: is

executing people believed to be the dregs of society part

of their job satisfaction? If it was, they were showing

excellent poker faces.


The cell door opened. Clang… Echo… Silence…


I was led to my place at the head of this



procession of death. There was a long red line that I

was instructed to follow. And then there was silence for

what seemed to be an eternity.


“Dead man walking!” the warden said loudly,

piercing the silence briefly.


I started my walk down the long corridor. The

red line on the floor blended into the cement. If they

had asked me for a last wish, it would have been to be

executed in a more colorful place. Surely there will be

more life and light in that box they will place me in

when this is all over. I think I will welcome the

ground. It teems with life. There are worms, and bugs

of all sorts. Eventually, grass and weeds will grow on

my grave and there will be life all around me.


I envy Christ on his walk to death. He got to

carry a cross. He got to feel something. The splinters

dug into His skin. Christ’s forehead was pierced with

thorns. Oh the wonderful sensations! People spat on him

as He walked by. They cared about His death. The crowd

hated Him and He felt it. Christ could feel everything.

Jesus died, and the whole world cared. I will die, and

only those two people that lost their daughter will

care. Two people, not a person more.


Hell, I wonder if I should lie in that room and

announce to them that I did it. Maybe it may heal them.

Maybe it might even heal me. Perhaps it is the one

decent act I have yet to do in this life. Is it right to

lie though? Would God forgive me if I lied on my

deathbed? I can’t lie though. When Jesus sacrificed his

innocence, he did not lie. But Pilate asked the

question – the splendid question – “What is truth?”

Christ answered, “I am truth.” Maybe everything is a lie

in life except Christ. If Christ was truth and he was

sacrificed, then maybe truth is sacrifice. If I lied

then it would be a sacrifice of my innocence and hence:

A lie is truth and I am a sacrifice.


The room I was led to was arctic. The white

popcorn ceiling reminded me of snow, only it was hanging

from the ceiling and not in drifts on the floor. It was

like a sick, upside down winter wonderland. It had all

the makings of a winter storm too. The walls were grey,

like the skies on a blustery winter day. The cement

floor was like a driveway freshly cleared of snow. The

IV holder stood above the leather altar of death like a

tree void of any leaves.


A curtain was drawn and an audience seated. I

should have been flattered that there were people here to

watch me end this life and journey to the next. I guess

there can’t be a proper execution without witnesses. The

parents of that poor murdered girl were there too. The

father wore a black button down shirt and grey trousers.

The mother wore a navy blue dress. I should have

expected the lack of color. They both stared directly at

me. I felt their eyes pierce my skin. The mother held

in her hand a picture of her daughter. I stared at the

picture for a good long time. The girl was wearing a

bright peach sundress and had a smile that would bring

warmth to even the most frigid person. In that picture

was life. She was beautiful.


For the first time, I was able to focus on this

girl. The focus for years was on my innocence, and I had

no time to think of her innocence. She was killed most

brutally in that alley behind my home. I was charged

like a criminal instead of being hailed as a savior. I

tried to save her but it was futile. I tried. I

tried. Damn it, I tried. But this is not about me, this

about that pure white girl who lost her life for no

reason. My heart ached for those parents who lost their

daughter. They lost such color from their lives. I

mourned their daughter as if she was my own.


The warden asked me if I had any statement that

I wanted to make before I was made to lie down. I took

the microphone and looked at the audience, especially at

the dear girl’s mother and father.


“I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful

daughter. I have sinned. I am guilty.”


There it was. I lied. Well, sort of. My life

was worthless up to this point. I was sacrificing my

innocence on the brown leather altar of justice. This

was my last decent act. I gave her family a chance to

feel justice at the cost of my own. I looked at Brother

Mike. He closed his eyes and nodded his head. He knew

what I was doing.


I was laid on the hard cold leather. I am not

sure the IV was really necessary, as the frigid leather

table was sucking the life out of me. The doctor wasted

no time, and I felt him swabbing the site of insertion.

I would not have wanted to die from infection before I

died from the lethal injection, mind you. I felt the

large needle slide into my skin. I looked at my arm and

saw that a little blood had splattered from the wound

onto the brown altar. It burned only for a second; the

pain was gone rather quick. It was superseded by the

absolute chill of the room. I had goose bumps on my

goose bumps. My knees began to knock, and mercifully

they covered me with a blanket.


I felt another burn as the first chemical

started dripping into my arm. I looked up at the IV bag

and saw a rainbow reflected in the liquid. I smiled.

Late was better than never.


The life was being sapped from my body and my

eyelids were turning to stone. I wanted to keep them

open. I wanted to meet fate with my eyes open. Who was

I kidding, the lids were just too much of a burden and I

let them close.


Clank… Echo…………..BOOOOOOOOOM!


I was startled by the unexpected explosion and

the violent shaking of the room. I couldn’t move, but my

eyes were wide open. They were unencumbered by the lead

weights that were previously attached to them. I looked

around and the ceiling was so very bright that it was

blinding. I had to look to the side. There were only

three walls; the outside wall had crumbled. I never

really noticed how beautiful those duck egg blue walls

were. I always saw them as grey until just now. I

turned my head and caught a glimpse of the audience

running for cover. Wow, that black shirt the girl’s

father was wearing was electric like a black light. The

girl’s mother wore this navy blue that had an ethereal

glow to it.


Even the guards were running for the door. Wow,

how could I have not noticed the awesome Cayman Blue

uniforms? This place was illuminated! How could I have

missed the color here?


My arm hair was standing at attention in perfect

formation. The commander of the hair was saluting me. I

wanted to lift my hand and salute back, but I was still

restrained. A man wearing blinding white clothes came

and unlatched my restraints.


“Who are you?” I asked.


“You have got to get moving. The needle is out

and the drugs are affecting you but if you are going to

escape, you need to get up and out of here now!”


“Who are you?” I asked again.


“Get up, get out!” he barked back.


What could I do? I got up. My head was

spinning. I sat back down. The world was spinning like

Tilt-a-Whirl. I couldn’t look around. I had to close my

eyes. What was going on anyhow? I was clueless. The

white clothed man came back and I felt a prick on the

back of my arm.


“I found this to help you travel. Go!”


I opened my eyes and the world was still. I was

looking at the prison yard from where there once was a

wall. The grass was a bright green. It looked so

inviting. I had to go out to it. The sky was blue like

the blue of my wife’s eyes. The sun was an edible

orange.


I stood and slowly walked out to the prison

yard. I breathed the breath of life. This was real

air. It was so brisk and sweet. I savored it. The

wonderful air smelled clean, it tasted fresh and I could

not see it. This was the air of freedom and it was

delicious.


I saw a blood red van with its doors open across

the prison yard. The red doors opened and I saw my

wife. How could this be? She was dead. At this point,

I gave up on asking questions. She beckoned to me to

come over and I started moving towards the van. I could

not move very fast for some reason and the world seemed

to be going by in slow motion. I was a turtle in a world

that was moving at a slug’s pace.


A bullet sliced the air, slowly sailing past my

head; softly swiping my sideburn and breathing on my

cheek as it swooped by. I saw the bullet spinning in the

air ever so slightly. It was beautiful in flight. The

lead glowed with heat and the metallic shine was

unearthly.


I heard several more gunshots and caught a

glimpse of four more bullets flying in formation like an

aerobatic flight team. I expected them to start doing

stunts, and I was interested to see what they could do.

It was disappointing when these bullets disappeared into

the vast open space without having done one aerobatic

stunt.


I was less than fifty yards from the van and my

wife. I could see her blue eyes and I realized that I

was wrong. The sky was nowhere near the color of my

beautiful wife’s eyes. They sparkled at me like blue

sapphires. I was almost in her arms. Freedom was within

my grasp.


My chest was being squeezed. My heart felt like

it was about to be crushed like an empty soda can. I

fell to the ground. The searing pain was traveling up

and down all my limbs. I could even feel the pain in my

tiniest of hairs on my arms and legs. I looked to see if

I was shot, but there was no blood. The only thing I

could tell is that I was in intense pain.


The van began to pull away but I could not even

move a finger to get to it. I couldn’t breathe. My

heart was about to burst and slide out of my pores. The

sun in the sky began to retreat. It became smaller and

smaller until I could not see it any longer. The blue

sky faded to midnight black. Even the prison seemed to

be moving away from me. The tiny blades of grass became

brown and withered under me.


I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. My eyelids

were stones once again, and I could not hold them open.

Even though my eyelids were closed I could still see

everything. I was back on the altar of death.


The entire world was frozen in time. The only

person that moved is the man in all white. He still had

such bright clothes on despite the fact that the rest of

the world was void of any of the vivid colors that I had

seen a few minutes earlier.


The brightly shining man looked down at me with

a puzzled smile. He shook his head and began to speak.


“What am I going to do with you Maxwell? A

sinner’s death is a saint’s reward and you have earned

neither. I will return in three days. Perhaps then He

will know what to do with you. The colorful death – that

was my idea.”

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