Chapter 1, Spin the wheel
While the tides of his suggested breaths still came with strange fluctuations and a faltering interval in the imagination of his loved ones, in reality the seconds which seemed ages had already passed on, and so had he. The dissonant beep of the failing heart came from far away for most, but didn't neglect to shake them from their dreams. But even though this horrible screech made them realize their loss, the endless silence kept on in their disabled thoughts, and would so for many years to come. Slight contractions of their emotions released the o-so wanted tears, as some of their eyes finally crossed. It was time to hold each other, their own private moments had passed. The doctor left, the nurses stayed, they still needed to do their work. Salutations to the valued member of life's society now lost! May he rest in peace.
His memory remains, life goes on.
Spin the wheel, save the day, let us return to those moments yet passed. Our time is 2 weeks prior to the death of this unknown man.
A solid 43 decibel. Not his best, but what to think about his speed. Running made the velocity of his bark be reduced considerably. Nonetheless, it certainly did his job. Upon hearing the canine's bark, the man slipped and fell to the ground hard, and unfortunately for him, there was a somewhat pointy stone tanning next to him. And the screen goes dark.
The humid feel of the prison cells air made him shake all over. Disorientated, his bruised hand, which he had unconsciously used to break his fall with the arrest earlier, moved to his upper left arm by itself, and as a sting of pain rushed through that arm, the man realized he was wounded. Blood was halted by the bandage, but its colour had won the battle. With a small, painful grin on his face he tried removing the bandage, which wasn't really what you say easy as the white blood cells pouring at of the wound acted as a glue to keep the fabric where it was. Drops of sweat already came running down his cheeks; he wasn't the bravest of man. Bite marks.
The man sighed, still remembering that shockingly hard bark he heard just before he blacked out in the midst of his escape. The dog obviously grabbed him after he fell, a shameful idea to be the plaything of a police dog for those moments.
Cold shivers emitted by his tumbling thoughts and confusion made his clothes seem worthless in this damp, locked cell. A prisoner of his own actions rather than his own mistakes made him view things differently than the average person doomed to spend time in the room of stone and iron. The outside world did not matter, was close to nothing but a shade of reality in the back of his mind, where it ever resided. Persons or reasons for him being here other than himself and his own ideas did not exist in his reality, in his world. There was nothing left for him but this cell of his insanity, the body of his being standing naked in front of the mirror.
Naked. His clothes lay carefully folded on his bed. He placed his hands upon the small cabinet in front of his reflection, slowly, and leaned forward. Directions led his eyes to nothing but air, the mirror be ignored. A parasite of cursed feelings made him wonder off into neglect of his surroundings, his being, and his eyes closed swiftly, his body failed standing. And the screen goes dark.
This man was in denial of his existence to such an extreme extend, that he often had these black outs. We look upon him, his naked body shivering and shaking without the control of his mind. We look upon him, and feel misery...feel sympathy for his condition.
The passing of 7134 seconds. Footsteps mixed with the echo of their own formed the symphony of their march, the guards. They walked with three hard faces, on black leather boots with iron noses.
Being guards as they were, they were trained not to show there emotions, but none liked the sight of the naked man trembling on the floor of his prison cell; thick saliva dripping out of his mouth. The cuts on his arm suggested self-harm, as they were clearly scratches made by long fingernails. Blood covered fingers were also a big clue.
As one of the guards opened the iron barred door, the naked man shivered once more. His eyes slowly opened, his mouth closed, and without hesitation, he put his blooded fingers in his mouth. He sucked on them, licking off the blood while he screamed and yelled none understandable things. With his eyes now black due the rapid shifting of his pupils, the man crawled up on his knees. His chin coloured red, his hands were soaked in the blood he began extracting from his arms. Screaming and screaming, waving his arms, crawling his body, insane through the absence of his drugs.
- 'Let's put an end to this.'
- 'Let's'
The guards grabbed the man, put him on his feet, and dragged him out of the cell into the hollow hall.
And the screen goes dark.
- 'Mr. Sanders'
The low tremble of the judge's voice woke up the defendant. He rubbed his eyes and his head, massaging the tense muscles of his face. His hands were as free to do just that simple thing. His legs were chained tight to his high chair, as was his waist. Before him rose the ebony-wooden bench, whereupon seated was a tribunal of several known judges. There figures were unreachable, emitted a sinister feel with their eyes gleaming at the defendant. The rumour in the court room was nihil, as there were, next to the judges, only guards present. He noticed feeling himself tiny in this vast room, with hundreds of seats for not present spectators. But, besides his natural fear, he also made himself see the beauty of this place. The architecture, the wooden benches crafted by a true masters hand, the long tapestries hanging on the walls from the ceiling to the ground, everything was truly impressive. All this crossed his mind, as he didn't notice himself staring around with his mouth half open.
- 'Mr. Sanders' the voice of the judge echoed his own words.
- 'You are brought before this court today as a result of your actions. We will not ask you any questions. We will not answer any of yours. You will not be allowed to speak, and may you choose do ignore this restriction you will lose the only right you have, which is to listen to your verdict.' a small pause pressed on the air of the room, the defendant swallowed.
- 'Thomas Sanders, on this day, the 19th of June, 1976, you, as by order of the Queen of England, and this Tribunal, are accused of the mass-murder of several thousand Englishman, as well as the mass-murder of hundreds of foreigners, which exact numbers remain unknown. We refer to several murders which took place in a span of five years, from 1970 up till 1975, and the mass-murder of several thousands in the past year, 1976.' another pause.
- 'Due to the extend of your crimes, you will not be put through trial. We immediately find you guilty of all charges to keep matters as short as possible. You will be executed by means of gunshot on the 20th of June, at 9:00 A.M. That was all.' and the hammer banged.
------------------------------------------------------------------------While the tides of his suggested breaths still came with strange fluctuations and a faltering interval in the imagination of his loved ones, in reality the seconds which seemed ages had already passed on, and so had he. The dissonant beep of the failing heart came from far away for most, but didn't neglect to shake them from their dreams. But even though this horrible screech made them realize their loss, the endless silence kept on in their disabled thoughts, and would so for many years to come. Slight contractions of their emotions released the o-so wanted tears, as some of their eyes finally crossed. It was time to hold each other, their own private moments had passed. The doctor left, the nurses stayed, they still needed to do their work. Salutations to the valued member of life's society now lost! May he rest in peace.
His memory remains, life goes on.
Spin the wheel, save the day, let us return to those moments yet passed. Our time is 2 weeks prior to the death of this unknown man.
A solid 43 decibel. Not his best, but what to think about his speed. Running made the velocity of his bark be reduced considerably. Nonetheless, it certainly did his job. Upon hearing the canine's bark, the man slipped and fell to the ground hard, and unfortunately for him, there was a somewhat pointy stone tanning next to him. And the screen goes dark.
The humid feel of the prison cells air made him shake all over. Disorientated, his bruised hand, which he had unconsciously used to break his fall with the arrest earlier, moved to his upper left arm by itself, and as a sting of pain rushed through that arm, the man realized he was wounded. Blood was halted by the bandage, but its colour had won the battle. With a small, painful grin on his face he tried removing the bandage, which wasn't really what you say easy as the white blood cells pouring at of the wound acted as a glue to keep the fabric where it was. Drops of sweat already came running down his cheeks; he wasn't the bravest of man. Bite marks.
The man sighed, still remembering that shockingly hard bark he heard just before he blacked out in the midst of his escape. The dog obviously grabbed him after he fell, a shameful idea to be the plaything of a police dog for those moments.
Cold shivers emitted by his tumbling thoughts and confusion made his clothes seem worthless in this damp, locked cell. A prisoner of his own actions rather than his own mistakes made him view things differently than the average person doomed to spend time in the room of stone and iron. The outside world did not matter, was close to nothing but a shade of reality in the back of his mind, where it ever resided. Persons or reasons for him being here other than himself and his own ideas did not exist in his reality, in his world. There was nothing left for him but this cell of his insanity, the body of his being standing naked in front of the mirror.
Naked. His clothes lay carefully folded on his bed. He placed his hands upon the small cabinet in front of his reflection, slowly, and leaned forward. Directions led his eyes to nothing but air, the mirror be ignored. A parasite of cursed feelings made him wonder off into neglect of his surroundings, his being, and his eyes closed swiftly, his body failed standing. And the screen goes dark.
This man was in denial of his existence to such an extreme extend, that he often had these black outs. We look upon him, his naked body shivering and shaking without the control of his mind. We look upon him, and feel misery...feel sympathy for his condition.
The passing of 7134 seconds. Footsteps mixed with the echo of their own formed the symphony of their march, the guards. They walked with three hard faces, on black leather boots with iron noses.
Being guards as they were, they were trained not to show there emotions, but none liked the sight of the naked man trembling on the floor of his prison cell; thick saliva dripping out of his mouth. The cuts on his arm suggested self-harm, as they were clearly scratches made by long fingernails. Blood covered fingers were also a big clue.
As one of the guards opened the iron barred door, the naked man shivered once more. His eyes slowly opened, his mouth closed, and without hesitation, he put his blooded fingers in his mouth. He sucked on them, licking off the blood while he screamed and yelled none understandable things. With his eyes now black due the rapid shifting of his pupils, the man crawled up on his knees. His chin coloured red, his hands were soaked in the blood he began extracting from his arms. Screaming and screaming, waving his arms, crawling his body, insane through the absence of his drugs.
- 'Let's put an end to this.'
- 'Let's'
The guards grabbed the man, put him on his feet, and dragged him out of the cell into the hollow hall.
And the screen goes dark.
- 'Mr. Sanders'
The low tremble of the judge's voice woke up the defendant. He rubbed his eyes and his head, massaging the tense muscles of his face. His hands were as free to do just that simple thing. His legs were chained tight to his high chair, as was his waist. Before him rose the ebony-wooden bench, whereupon seated was a tribunal of several known judges. There figures were unreachable, emitted a sinister feel with their eyes gleaming at the defendant. The rumour in the court room was nihil, as there were, next to the judges, only guards present. He noticed feeling himself tiny in this vast room, with hundreds of seats for not present spectators. But, besides his natural fear, he also made himself see the beauty of this place. The architecture, the wooden benches crafted by a true masters hand, the long tapestries hanging on the walls from the ceiling to the ground, everything was truly impressive. All this crossed his mind, as he didn't notice himself staring around with his mouth half open.
- 'Mr. Sanders' the voice of the judge echoed his own words.
- 'You are brought before this court today as a result of your actions. We will not ask you any questions. We will not answer any of yours. You will not be allowed to speak, and may you choose do ignore this restriction you will lose the only right you have, which is to listen to your verdict.' a small pause pressed on the air of the room, the defendant swallowed.
- 'Thomas Sanders, on this day, the 19th of June, 1976, you, as by order of the Queen of England, and this Tribunal, are accused of the mass-murder of several thousand Englishman, as well as the mass-murder of hundreds of foreigners, which exact numbers remain unknown. We refer to several murders which took place in a span of five years, from 1970 up till 1975, and the mass-murder of several thousands in the past year, 1976.' another pause.
- 'Due to the extend of your crimes, you will not be put through trial. We immediately find you guilty of all charges to keep matters as short as possible. You will be executed by means of gunshot on the 20th of June, at 9:00 A.M. That was all.' and the hammer banged.
New project I'm working on, and if all my ideas become reality this might eventually become a book. So, as some of you who read my other stories on here already know, I probably won't finish this on here either. I post it here to give me a nice boost to keep up with it, as I am normally too lazy to finish any of my stories at all. The next chapters, as this one, are rough writing meant to be improved. They are just the rough ideas of the storyline of the book, so no worries about strange sentences and such, but ideas on the story itsself are always welcome. The timeline might also be scrambled eventually. So, in the end this isn't half of what its going to become, but I can always use good critics anyway. So please do comment.