Skip to content

Death in the Chair’s Easy

December 21, 2012

Internal evidence suggests I was eight years old when the following story was written. It is the second one written into the dummy book I was using at that time. I’ve kept the original spellings for interest and accuracy.  I won’t bother you with the first as – as I sternly noted sometime later – the ending is “ripped off from Monkey Planet – Pierre Boule!”

This more original piece is somewhat in the style of the creepy but moralistic tales one saw in those days in American comic books such as House of Mystery and Tales to Astonish.

Enjoy but, please, don’t have nightmares or try this at home!

Death in the Chairs Easy

or

Lucky 13.

George Charlton had never known the meaning of fear until the night of February 3rd 1969.

He had attemted to rob the largest bank in Bosten. Unfortunately he had overlooked the fact of a bank clarck pressing down on an ingenious foot alarm. The police charged in. Charlton became desperate, for he was the only member of his gang still not hit by the bullets that were flying through the air. Desperately he fired, and an unfortunate policeman fell to the ground, dead.

6 months later George was eating supper. His cells number was 13, which only added to his gloom. Sudenly he heard a faint tapping noise on the door. He turned round and saw a man outside the cell door. “May I come in?” the mysterious man asked. Amazed George said he could, even though he couldnt see how. To his astonishment, the stranger simply walked through the cell door as though it wasn’t there. This rose Georges spirits completely, and he quickly atempted to go through the cell door which he now thought was just an illusion. But, bang! he soon discovered it was not. He gingerly picked up his wounded self. Then he turned with amazement to his amused spectator. “Oh, so you think its funny do you, well I dont!”

George banged his fist into the gigling old looney with all his might. “Ow!” This was not Georges only exclamation as he banged the wall, but it was certainly the only writable one. As he caressed his injured hand he discovered how cold it felt. “Hey!” He said suddenly.

“You are a ghost aren’t you? What are you doing here?”

The ghost smiled and said “I’ve come to make it easier for you. But before I begin I must know what happened. In order to save you pain I must know the facts. But beware, I know when your lying”.

“Well, I was born in a New York suberb, like everyone is. When I was in coledge I met these two brothers, Fred and Joe Duncan. They wanted to start a sort of club with me as their first member. Of course “club” ment gang and I was soon very involved.

Well about six months later we were going to do this big raid. Thats when the police got us and by acide [ed’s note: got to the edge of the page before spelling completed] I killed one of the cops.” There was silence. then the silence was broken by the ghosts voice. “Very well George Charlton, as I did, you shall have your chance.”

Two nights later George was experiencing the agony of the last hour of life. He hardly realised that he was renouncing his sins to a somewhat chubby priest. Then he was awakened from his thoughts by the sound of his own footsteps echoing as they walked the last mile. Strangely enough for the first time in his life he felt beautifully at peace with himself. Then he was sitting down with the electrodes clamped on him. It took him about five minutes to realise he was dead.

If you are in a cell numbered 13 for the same reason as George, watch out for him, he’s there to help you.

Chilling! The next tale is entitled “Before you murder your wife, think about it”. But that must wait for another time…

 

Advertisements

From → Critic, Writer

Leave a Comment

Please add your comments!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

SO:WRITE STORIES

Celebrating Southampton's libraries through writing and craft

Novelacious

Dreamy Creamy Reading

CaffeinatedRamblings

Be kind to yourself 🌻

Agnes Torok

Spoken word poet & workshop leader

Burning Eye Books

Never Knowingly Mainstream

Shakespeare's World

A Zooniverse project blog

I am not a silent poet

A magazine for poetry and artwork protesting against abuse in any of its forms

the void

narking off the state since 2005

Aidin Vaziri

Blue Lines: Interviews, Features and Reviews by the San Francisco Chronicle's Pop Music Critic

The Renegade Press

Tales from the mouth of a wolf

Northern Nevermore

So that I can live the life I want to, even if it's not real.

moonworld

since 2003

IMPREINTofficial

The official page of the artist created to host the project 'CUT OFF'.

The Junkyard

dream create share

The poor side of life

EXPOSING CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY.EXPOSING THE GOVERNMENTS WAR AGAINST THE POOR.FIGHTING FOR BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS. SANCTIONS KILL.

Graeme Sandford

Serial Quiller

50 Shades of me

DARK BLUE

Mindfully Untitled

Becoming a better you

JPF Goodman

An interesting read almost every Friday!

The Shakespeare Code

The Bard, Love, Religion and Politics

annamosca

Poetic Landscapes Of The Spirit

Bano ki Duniya

From Mundane love to Godly Bliss, We are all addicted to something.

Silverfinger Press

A Small Press for FINE writing and Illustration

{ The Undecided Art Collective }

An Art Collective.....people getting together and Doing Art stuff...,putting on exhibitions..without having to pay through the nozzle....defying the usual and bringing home the 'new'.....thankyou..♥

webbyfoot

4 out of 5 dentists recommend this WordPress.com site

Natasha4mp's Blog

Just another WordPress.com site

jeff young's notebooks

outlaws and demons

Lisa Scullard

- Just another indie author letting things get out of hand :)

CHATTYOWL

"Owls are not what they seem"

Geo Sans

“right answer, wrong question”

Poesy plus Polemics

Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy

Intensify It

© Anca Dunavete

unemployedhack

A journalist's view from the scrapheap

Poems & People

what if poems could be symphonies, and people their orchestra?

johncoyote

Poetry, story and real life.

CATHERINE RYAN HOWARD

She turns coffee into books so she can afford to buy more coffee. And more books.

The Neighborhood

society online's social conscious

Thailand Footprint: Impressions left by the books, people, places and music of Thailand and South East Asia

Thailand Footprint: People, Things, Literature, Music and Henry Miller too. Forget Yourself Here

Adult & Teen Fiction

Read on and I will show you another world within this one....

Imagineer-ing

an adventure in reading, writing & publishing

Wuji Seshat

Selected Poems

Playwrights' Competition Calendar

Competitions and other opportunities for script writers.

%d bloggers like this: