Prose Challenge of the Week #45: You’re on death row for a crime you didn't commit. Write about it. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100. When sharing to Twitter, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge

In Memory of George Stinney Jr.

All we did was pick flowers. Them girls was my friends. I never hurt nobody. Those police yell at me. They slap me. Tol’ me I can go home. I just say I did it. Momma made my favorite dinner. I just wan’ go home.

But they lied. Put me in a cold room. I almos’ fit through them bars. I dream I running to momma. She hug me and take me home. Then I wake up and cry. It’s sad here. Everybody's goin' to die.

I miss my friends. Ain't nobody else 14 in here. I just wan’ pick flowers.