Death’s Release

Five church bells. My breath catches in my chest as I press my fingers into the sandy corners of the stony wall. Tiny grains stick in my skin. Footsteps reverberate through the hallway, but nobody dares make a sound. The lack of clang cups and cackling insults is dizzying. I usually relish silence, but now, I shiver.

The steady footsteps come to a stop outside of my cell, but I don’t dare look up. Their stares way on my skin, a mix of pity, a mix of disgust. A shadow reaches forward to unlock my door, swinging it open with a greasy squeak. It hits the wall. The clash echoes through the cell. A pause.

“The priest is here to read you your last rites.”

I swallow back a scream.

“My dear child,” The priest begins, bending down. “As this hour dawns upon us, I ask, do you have any final sins to confess?”

I try to speak, but the words escape me. The priest’s presence reminds me of my mother’s dying body, a man in clothes very much like his own stood nearby. My memories come back vividly. An outstretched arm anointing her feverish forehead and my father looking through the flickering candlelight on the nightstand. As the priest reaches out to lay a hand on my head, I flinch.

“You have done much wrong, but God can forgive all. There is no need to die in shame.”

Tears roll down my cheeks. But I’m not scared. Death is a release, I don’t have any fear. It was a release for my mother, it will be a release for me. Just as she found solace in the abyss, so can I. Solitude is my only heaven.

“Shall we pray the Apostle’s Creed?”

I said nothing.

“Do you renew your baptismal promise?” He prompted.

Silence. Frustrated with my noncompliance, he stood up.

“It is at times like these that I wonder if God believes we can all find salvation. I think some are just destined to the fiery pits of hell.”

He turned to the guards.

“I’ve done all I can do.”

My chains clank against the worn floor. Two guards held my elbows on either side, their shoulders rising above my head like the capstone mountains of a fjord. They protect me from the crowd around us. The people make no audible sound, only whispers, but their stares are enough to overwhelm me. They judge what they do not know. Some cry, but more look on vehemently. A distant voice rises above the silence.

“God be with you.”

I turn to look behind me, at the top of the tower, where a prisoner waves their arm. The crowd turns to look too, and after a pause, a few whisper the blessing in turn. But I don’t need their false luck. If there was a God, he would be walking besides me now. He would have held my hand as my mother’s soul slipped away, he would have been there when I searched the fields for rotting vegetables, when my father drank away his wife’s memory, when men swarmed me in the night. But there is no God, and nothing after this, save sweet oblivion. This is where I leave my soul, right here, walking towards the gallows in a saintly courtyard. It will not follow me up to the platform. My body carries on in front of the people, but this moment carries no real significance to me anymore. I’ve moved on from the present, from the crowd’s morbid curiosity, from the stony guards at my side. My life ends here, even if my death began long ago.

Song: Hallowed Be Thy Name - Iron Maiden