Thursday, January 4, 2018
He awoke to the smell of mother earth’s rich deep sweet organic musky scent; a scent he knew well over the centuries, it comforted and calmed his mind as he awoke from death. Arms stiff and achy from the unnatural position they’d been placed in crossing his chest fingers interlaced, he slowly brought them up from his chest; crackling popping elbows he wiped the dust from his face. He knew he’d been buried in a well drained plot probably up the beautiful hillside overlooking the small town; the sweet damp organic smell so soothing to his nose told him so, no ammoniac stench of dank wet stagnate earth or hint of old penny metallic scent of desert sands.
From his death row prison cell window he’d seen the little cemetery up the hill; a smaller unfenced plot sat just outside of the enclosed manicured garden; having no headstones he’d deduced that the open plot held the bodies of prisoners who had died during their incarceration or been put to death as he would be in just a few days if the body wasn’t taken by family.
Taking in a deep breath of the sweet earth he relaxed slipping into the silent devils mantra that’d been burned into his memory as a small boy freeing his mind to wander as he waited knowing he’d be freed from his grave in the near future; his lips moved ever so slightly as he chanted the words, a small smile etched his scared face as a dry tear rolled down his cheek.
Deep in the mantra his thoughts flowing freely; he pushed back to the beginning when he was a very small boy lying frightened in his bed as shadows danced across the ceiling and walls; remembering his mothers angry words “Go back to sleep Micah, it’s nothing” he pressed his lips tight fighting his way into sleep, he deafened his ears to the screams, the hacking chopping sounds of his mother’s satanic murder only waking as the demon chanted the devil’s mantra deep into his mind as he was endlessly assaulted earning the devil’s mark. He remembered the pain growing in intensity until he finally screamed out; silence, not a sound in the dark, he lay still paralyzed by fear until the sun broke the horizon of the morning. Calling out to his mother he was answered only by the chilled morning air and a heavy bitter metallic coppery stench that filled the hut gagging him.
The Capital murder trial was cancelled when he’d plead guilty to the six horrific murders and waited only two months for the State to seat a twelve person penalty phase jury with four alternates in the case one or more of the jurors couldn’t make it through the horrible evidence that they would be shown. The jury would only deal with the penalty phase of the trial but would have to review all the States evidence. They’d only decide whether he’d be sentenced to life in prison or be put to death.
Called to the stand to testify everyone expected him to plead for his life. Glaring at the jury from the witness box he relived the glory of the slaughter clearly in his low cold voice, you could nearly smell the retching tic of blown bowels of the murder scene as he told his story in minute detail.
The fear was visceral in the Courtroom; his testimony coming to a crescendo he told how he stabbed and cut the victims their breaths coming in short moaning gasps, he sprang to his feet and shook the heavy chains that bound him. People in the galley jumped to their feet fighting each other as they piled up trying to escape through the small exit door; he roared in laughter, his deep dead voice shaking the room freeing fine dust from the overhead lighting. Jumping to his feet red faced the Judge bellowed orders at the bailiffs who couldn’t hear over the shrill screams from the men and women of the jury; armed security guards pulled their weapons pointing first at the laughing madman then at the screaming jury; it was chaos.
Taking his seat in the witness box he roared in laughter as the jury raced from the Court Room; he shook his chains one last time bringing fresh screams from the last jurors racing for the door hands over their ears. The Judge continued screaming orders then threats then orders for minutes until he ran out of breath; silence finally fell over the Court Room with the exception of the low deep rumbling giggles from the damned as tears rolled down his face in glee.
The Court lost three jurors that absolutely refused to return to the Court Room; seating alternates took two days as the Judge threatened them with jail time if they refused.
Seated next to his terrified Attorney the Jury found that if spared death he’d continue to be an unreasonable threat to those that he was incarcerated with or if ever released would pose an undue risk to the community; they voted for his death.
Before delivering the death sentence the Judge was compelled to allow the defendant a chance to address the Court.
Standing at the defense table Micah once a small scared boy now a huge man addressed the Court and the Jury; pulling his jail uniform shirt up he displayed the devil’s mark to gasps from the jury and gallery as his fingers caressed the outline of the mark. Speaking in a low rumble he promised they’d all pay with their lives for the decision they’d made.
His execution date was set and making no appeal the date came quickly, he walked proudly to the hangman’s noose; asked if he had any last words he stood silently slowly looking over the small group of witnesses staring into each of their eyes; nodding his head he spoke directly to each and every one of them; this was not the end, he’d give each a visit in which he’d slowly end their lives in the most grotesque fashion.
Placing the noose around his neck with the knot just to the right side of his neck the floor dropped away; falling five feet the rope made a snapping sound as his weight hit the end, stretching and rebounding he danced like a rag doll, lifeless.
The hangman left him swinging several extra minutes making sure he was very much dead. Anyone who’d been to a hanging before would have known that the slow methodical pace of the hangman and helpers was out of the ordinary as the drop from the platform should have snapped the neck and death nearly instant; they weren’t taking any chances with this one letting him hang as they slowly moved around the platform picking up stray items sneaking looks at each other keeping as far away from the dead man as possible; the body swung slowly on the rope in circles, each circle just a little less in the gloom of the death chamber.
Such a small noise but enough to bring Micah out of his whispering mantra; an intense smile slowly spread on his face, he could clearly hear a shovel digging into the earth; low barely audible he began to laugh freeing fine dust that swirled in the stagnate air sticking to his face with the vibrations of his laughing. What had the demon preached to him? Ahhhh……. Matthews 28:6 “He is not here, for he has been raised, just as he said.” That’s what they will find tomorrow morning and so very much more he thought laughing harder.
Timing it perfectly as the guard looked into his cell through the small opening in the door he acted as though he was hiding something in his mouth “What you got?! Don’t you swallow it, you hand it to me NOW!” The guard barked. Micah rose from his hard bunk, palm open he grasped the small object between his thumb and index finger, passing his hand through the door opening he dropped a small perfect diamond into the guards open hand. “What’s this?” the guard Williams said with disbelief. “I have many, hidden if you know what I mean.” Micah whispered to the guard. “Many many more.” He rubbed his stomach turned his back and walked to his bunk. Pulling the single blanket over him he rolled to the wall ignoring the sputtering questions of the guard.
Long hard labor for one man to dig out a grave but Williams was a determined man. Keeping his discovery to himself he waited for the killer to be hanged and managed to beg his way on to the hanging detail. He rode along in the pickup truck to the prisoner’s graveyard and made sure he’d be able to find the grave in the dark when he returned in a few days to collect his treasure from the damned man. The backhoe made quick work of the excavation and Williams waved the local operator off half way into packing the earth tight after the casket was lowered into the hole. He grinned at his ingenuity hoping he wouldn’t get many blisters removing the dirt and loose rocks; he’d hate to have to explain what he’d done to his hands as he waited out the two weeks’ notice he planned to give the prison after he was rich.
Lying in wait, blade finally hit wood; the cheap wood box he was buried in splintered easily under the metal shovel, Micah rolled to his side and pressed up against the side of the casket. Shovel blade pounded between the ill fitting boards of the lid prying the wood apart breaking a small opening into the pitch black casket. Flashlight shining into the casket found only thick swirling dust. Cussing under his breath the shovel pried under the next flimsy board breaking it making the opening bigger. Micah heard the shovel as it was thrown against the open holes side, the flashlight beam danced across the opening as Williams took to his knees to look into the casket. His head dipped into the broken casket the flashlight closely behind, Micah grabbed Williams by the shoulders and pulled him into the rickety wood box pushing him head first arms pinned to his sides to the bottom of the casket as he climbed Williams body using his hands and feet to push him further into the black box as he climbed up and out of the splintered hole broken in the casket lid. William’s legs thrashed and he screamed in hysteria as he fought to back out of the casket begging God to save him. Micah kneeled down reaching back into the cheap casket throwing the flashlight to Williams head so he would have light as he slowly screamed himself to death. Micah shoveled dirt first into the broken caskets lid on thrashing legs then covering the casket drowning out the screams little by little as the hole was filled and the dirt smoothed and manicured at the surface.
Looking down from the cemetery hill at the glistening lights of town Micah had a full night’s work ahead of him; he’d made promises he intended on keeping.
From the Ramblings