The Execution

On Sunday I would die. But a few days remained for me to prove my innocence. I was innocent. I hadn't killed anyone but unfortunately no one could affirm my whereabouts the night of the murder. Someone had set me up but it didn't matter who. What mattered now was how I would prepare for my execution. They would sit me at the base of a tree, blindfolded, and shoot me in the head. What does a piece of steal feel like when it penetrates the skull? I tried to feel the stinging, the suffocation caused by choking on my own blood, so that the actual event would be more bearable. Gripped by these thoughts, I asked one of the officers in charge of watching over me, if being shot in the head was a quick death. Her reply was not altogether reassuring. While some went quickly, others died slowly. Without any answers, my mind drifted from one question to the next - how would my parents cope with the loss of their daughter? Would I take another incarnation? Had I completed all that I wished to see accomplished in this lifetime? I felt myself crossing over to the other side even before my execution, but a bit of hope lingered within me, that the next few days could bring a miracle. Would the universe save me, or was I fated to die?