Virginia, 2037
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The red light on the phone blinked off about fifteen minutes before midnight, sending a chill through the room.
The show was on, and the State of Virginia had ordered Moira Collins to hang.
From her booth, Natalie Harper -- officially known as the Citizen Representative for this little drama -- swallowed nervously and shuffled the papers in front of her. She had been reading them over and over again, trying to steel herself for her upcoming task.
Her eyes shifted to the noose hanging on the other side of the window, just above a small white X that neatly marked the middle of a double-leafed trapdoor. Then her gaze drifted down to the panel on the wall in front of her, a simple affair with a light, a keyhole, and a button.
The whole thing was surreal. Natalie was a 32 year old high school teacher, who had maybe gotten two parking tickets in her whole life, and yet there was a real, readied noose dangling less than ten feet away.
She was the type to close her eyes when someone died in a movie, and yet she would have to watch a real, living person go through their last moments.
Still, the fact that she was here meant she was capable. There had been so many tests, screenings, and evaluations, all designed to weed out the unwilling, the overeager, and the irreverent. Her role was a serious one, and she needed to be fully aware of its purpose and responsibilities.
"You represent the vote of the people," the prison psychologist had explained. "The final say on whether the condemned should be permanently removed from society."
It was always 'the condemned', never 'Moira' or Ms. Collins. They had taken such pains to abstract the process, to make it easy.
Natalie glanced down at the papers again, eyes fixing on the mugshot at the top left corner. "Moira," she muttered to herself. "Her name is Moira." Soon she was going to close this file for good.
At ten minutes to midnight, the door on the back wall opened. In walked the woman of the hour -- her last hour -- flanked by two guards, and followed by a grey-haired woman in a suit.
The schoolteacher placed her papers off to the side, and rose from her seat, eyes fixed on the doomed woman. Moira took shaky steps into the death chamber, nearly stumbling as she was guided into the black box under her noose.
Collins was dressed in a grey prison uniform, her hands cuffed tightly behind her. Her hair had been cut considerably shorter than her mugshot, kept up in a quick ponytail. She had obviously been made up for her final show, which contrasted strangely with the look of dumb terror on her face.
Natalie closed her eyes as they strapped Moira up, reciting the list of charges under her breath. She had sworn to fulfill her duty in accordance with the law, but her stomach was twisting itself into knots. She could only imagine how the other woman was feeling!
A loud whine filled the room as the warden turned on her microphone, bringing Natalie back to the present.
"Moira Collins," the speech began, five minutes before the scheduled moment, "you have been found guilty of crimes against the Commonwealth of Virginia by a jury of your peers. Due to the particularly heinous nature of your offenses, you have been sentenced to death. Your final appeal has been denied, and you will now be prepared to hang by the neck until you are dead. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried out?"
Natalie studied Moira's face closely, trying to puzzle out her emotions as the condemned woman took a deep breath and turned her head towards the microphone clipped to her collar.
"I don't deserve to be here," Moira sputtered, "I didn't... I don't... I don't want to die...!" She didn't even face the family of her victims, who Natalie could see all looked disgusted and hurt. Instead, tears ran down her face as she fixed her eyes on the noose.
The warden nodded to the hangman, who quickly pulled a hood over the criminal's head, followed shortly by the noose. Satisfied that everything was in place, the hangman stepped back and retreated to a wall panel on the side the chamber.
After a second, the light on Natalie's own panel lit up. The trap was armed, and now the state of Virginia was asking its citizen if Collins truly deserved the drop.
Natalie stared at the hooded figure, her heart softening as she noticed the trembling, the hyperventilating under the hood. Then her mind returned to the reason Moira had been brought here.
Biting her lip, Natalie placed her provided key into the slot, turned it, and pressed the button below.
A few long seconds later, the trapdoor fell away, as did the woman standing on top of it. There was a loud gasp, followed by a sharp crack as Moira's life came to a sudden end.
The show was on, and the State of Virginia had ordered Moira Collins to hang.
From her booth, Natalie Harper -- officially known as the Citizen Representative for this little drama -- swallowed nervously and shuffled the papers in front of her. She had been reading them over and over again, trying to steel herself for her upcoming task.
Her eyes shifted to the noose hanging on the other side of the window, just above a small white X that neatly marked the middle of a double-leafed trapdoor. Then her gaze drifted down to the panel on the wall in front of her, a simple affair with a light, a keyhole, and a button.
The whole thing was surreal. Natalie was a 32 year old high school teacher, who had maybe gotten two parking tickets in her whole life, and yet there was a real, readied noose dangling less than ten feet away.
She was the type to close her eyes when someone died in a movie, and yet she would have to watch a real, living person go through their last moments.
Still, the fact that she was here meant she was capable. There had been so many tests, screenings, and evaluations, all designed to weed out the unwilling, the overeager, and the irreverent. Her role was a serious one, and she needed to be fully aware of its purpose and responsibilities.
"You represent the vote of the people," the prison psychologist had explained. "The final say on whether the condemned should be permanently removed from society."
It was always 'the condemned', never 'Moira' or Ms. Collins. They had taken such pains to abstract the process, to make it easy.
Natalie glanced down at the papers again, eyes fixing on the mugshot at the top left corner. "Moira," she muttered to herself. "Her name is Moira." Soon she was going to close this file for good.
At ten minutes to midnight, the door on the back wall opened. In walked the woman of the hour -- her last hour -- flanked by two guards, and followed by a grey-haired woman in a suit.
The schoolteacher placed her papers off to the side, and rose from her seat, eyes fixed on the doomed woman. Moira took shaky steps into the death chamber, nearly stumbling as she was guided into the black box under her noose.
Collins was dressed in a grey prison uniform, her hands cuffed tightly behind her. Her hair had been cut considerably shorter than her mugshot, kept up in a quick ponytail. She had obviously been made up for her final show, which contrasted strangely with the look of dumb terror on her face.
Natalie closed her eyes as they strapped Moira up, reciting the list of charges under her breath. She had sworn to fulfill her duty in accordance with the law, but her stomach was twisting itself into knots. She could only imagine how the other woman was feeling!
A loud whine filled the room as the warden turned on her microphone, bringing Natalie back to the present.
"Moira Collins," the speech began, five minutes before the scheduled moment, "you have been found guilty of crimes against the Commonwealth of Virginia by a jury of your peers. Due to the particularly heinous nature of your offenses, you have been sentenced to death. Your final appeal has been denied, and you will now be prepared to hang by the neck until you are dead. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried out?"
Natalie studied Moira's face closely, trying to puzzle out her emotions as the condemned woman took a deep breath and turned her head towards the microphone clipped to her collar.
"I don't deserve to be here," Moira sputtered, "I didn't... I don't... I don't want to die...!" She didn't even face the family of her victims, who Natalie could see all looked disgusted and hurt. Instead, tears ran down her face as she fixed her eyes on the noose.
The warden nodded to the hangman, who quickly pulled a hood over the criminal's head, followed shortly by the noose. Satisfied that everything was in place, the hangman stepped back and retreated to a wall panel on the side the chamber.
After a second, the light on Natalie's own panel lit up. The trap was armed, and now the state of Virginia was asking its citizen if Collins truly deserved the drop.
Natalie stared at the hooded figure, her heart softening as she noticed the trembling, the hyperventilating under the hood. Then her mind returned to the reason Moira had been brought here.
Biting her lip, Natalie placed her provided key into the slot, turned it, and pressed the button below.
A few long seconds later, the trapdoor fell away, as did the woman standing on top of it. There was a loud gasp, followed by a sharp crack as Moira's life came to a sudden end.
Wow. This was such a great story, sparse but evocative! I really appreciate how you captured a mix of hushed pathos and the sterile nature of judicial death. Too many stories are too crass, scatological and reductionist in this niche; restraint subtlety highlight the excitement of the genre similar to how the sight of a beautiful woman dressed well is so much more sublimely erotic than a prostitute showing the goods. I really loved this and look forward to more! Thank you for the time you took to create and share this!
Nice story, very moving. Natalie is a perfectly normal person in a not so normal situation. What would I do in her shoes? it wouldn't be an easy task to me . And I agree with Poo. A proper outfit for an execution is more erotic than just senseless nakedness. Thanks and I'm looking forward to read more of your stories
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