american tragedy

Chapter 153 (2)
Chapter 330 (2)
"Your name is Griffiths, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, my name is Nicholson. Don't be afraid, you'll get used to it." He forced a cheerful smile, though his face was bloodless.But his eyes were not so handsome, and there was no smile.

"I don't think I'm very frightened," replied Clyde, deliberately trying to correct the truth he had just slipped.

"Well, that's all right. Get moving. We're all doing that here, or the whole place's going crazy. Better get some air, or else just go for a brisk walk. It'll do you good."

He took a few steps to the side and moved his arms.Now Clyde stood aside and said to himself, almost loudly, still tremblingly: "We're all doing that here, or the whole place's going crazy." It was true.After the first night, he should be able to see and feel it.Crazy, really, to force you to witness this terrible, heart-breaking - and for everyone - impending tragedy, which may have to be tortured to death.However, how long will he have to endure these things! How long can he endure them?

After a day or two, it occurred to him that this death row wasn't like that--a horror--at least not on the surface.In fact, even when people are dying, it's more a place to laugh and scold than to entertain; debates are held on every topic imaginable, from death to women, sports, the stage - all human struggles The ability to compete, or lack thereof, these people talk freely within the scope of very low level of knowledge.

The situation is often like this: after breakfast, some people who have not been called to participate in a certain group of sports play chess or cards; and one is always released, and his group is given a set of chess pieces, a chessboard, or A deck of cards, a chess board for each person, but no chess pieces, chess pieces are not needed.Then, start with one person. "I jumped from G2 to E" - there are numbers on each grid - words on each side, and the steps are penciled down.

Then, the opponent - first write down this move on his own chessboard, study how this move affects his own situation, and then shout: "I jumped from E7 to F5." If you want to join, which side you want to join, as long as you say he is willing to come, the policeman will give him a chessboard and a pencil.Then Short Bristol, offering to serve as an adviser to "Dutch" Swickau, who shared a cell with him, shouted, "I won't go this way, Dutchman. Wait a minute, there's a more Good chess pieces." The chess pieces are played like this, and it all depends on the luck of the game.When it's difficult to play well, everyone laughs and gets angry; they swear, swear and argue.The same is true of poker.Each prisoner played in his own cell, and it went well.

But Clyde didn't like playing cards, or joking around, or swearing.In his opinion, all but Nicholson said something obscene, even rude, and he didn't appreciate it.However, he was deeply attracted by Nicholson.He began to think that in a few days later, when he was present during the briefing, this lawyer could help him get through all this as long as they were in the same group.He is the wisest and most respected man here.The others were different, silent sometimes, sinister or vulgar or cold most of the time.

But then something happened, and it was only a week after his arrival, just when he was beginning to feel at least a little calmer because of his interest in Nicholson, the Italian But Pascal Ketton of Brooklyn was about to be sentenced to death.When his brother tried to seduce his wife, he killed him and was sentenced to death.It wasn't until Clyde arrived that he found out that Bascal's cell was near the corridor that ran across it.The man has become somewhat deranged because of worry.Every time other people (groups of six) were taken out for a release, he was always left in the cell.But Clyde passed there, looking in if he had time. His emaciated face looked terrible, from the eyes to the corners of the mouth, divided by two deep grooves, which can be said to be the unfortunate road in prison. into three hideous parts.

Clyde later learned that from the day he arrived, Bascal had been praying day and night.This is because: he has been notified of the approximate date of execution before here, that is to say, it will be executed within a week.After that, he always put his hands and knees on the ground, crawled around in the prison, kissing a bronze statue of Christ bearing the cross that was given to him, and he always kissed the feet of this Christ statue.Besides, he had a brother and a sister who had just come from Italy and visited him repeatedly, because they took him to the old death row at the appointed hour.But, as everyone now whispered, Bhaskar was insane, and his brothers and sisters were helpless.

All day and all night, whenever his siblings were away, he prayed.Those awake who tried to pass the time with a book were forced to listen to his mumbled prayers and the tickling of prayer beads.His name was Saint Ge, and his name was Hail Mary, and he kept screaming, and every time he screamed, he moved a rosary.

He prayed, though now and again a voice said, "Oh, God, if only his name wasn't San Ge. If only he could sleep a little longer."In this way, until the day before the execution, Baskar was taken out of the cell and put in the death cell.Clyde later learned that if any relatives came, he would say goodbye there the next morning.Then there were two more hours for his soul to prepare to meet the Creator.

But how strange was the condition of all who were shut up in this unfortunate room, all that one day and one night.The trays that were taken away showed that very few people could eat dinner here.There was a silence, after which a few people prayed indistinctly.They knew that their own fate was not far behind Bascal's in time.An Italian who was sentenced to death for killing a bank patrolman is now hysterical, screaming all the time, throwing the tables and chairs in his cell against the iron railing on the door, tearing the sheets on the bed To shatter, even want to kill himself.Later, he was finally subdued and moved to another cell, where he was placed under special surveillance because of his insanity.

As for the others, during this tense time, one could hear them walking up and down, or praying vaguely, or calling the policeman to do things for him all the time.As for Clyde, he had never experienced such a scene, never imagined such an end, never imagined such a sound, and he trembled with terror.On the last night of that man's life, Clyde lay on the scratch screen, trying to drive away the illusion.Ah, here, death is like that.People were shouting and praying, delirious, but in spite of all the terror they all felt, the march of death never stopped.On the contrary, at ten o'clock, in order that the butcher's knives should be put down, the death-death procession emerges from the old death cell and goes down the corridor to the execution chamber without being seen.But Clyde and all the others woke up when they heard it, and sat up.

The time has come! It is time to execute! The moment of death is at hand! This is the signal.Many people in each cell, either out of fear, or remorse, or inner religious beliefs, immediately remembered the faith that protected and comforted them, and knelt down on their knees to pray.Others were walking up and down all the time, murmuring words, and still others were screaming now and then out of uncontrollable terror.

As for Clyde, he was just insensitive and silent.

Almost lost consciousness.Kill this man in the other room over there.that chair.The chair that he had been so afraid of for so long was on that side, and now it was so close.But, as Jefferson and his own mother tell him, he has a long, long time to go...if...if it's his turn...if...

But at this time there were other sounds, some footsteps walking up and down, and a prison door clanging somewhere.Then, apparently, the door from the old death cell opened, for now there was a sound—several voices, which are not quite clear now.Then came another voice, more clearly, as if someone were praying.Then, as the procession walked down the hallway, came the telltale tap-tap of footsteps. "Lord, be merciful. Christ, be merciful."

"Mary, Holy Mother of Mercy, Holy Mother of Mercy, Our Lady Michel, pray for me; my good angel, pray for me."

"Holy Mary, pray for me; my good angel, pray for me."

It was the voice of the priest next to the man to be executed, reciting prayers.However, it is said that he has lost his mind.But isn't he muttering a prayer? Really.Clyde could hear it.Recently, this voice has been heard a lot.Then the other door will open.He was about to look in from the door, the prisoner was about to die, he wanted to look at that thing, he saw that hat, those belts.Ah, by now he knew all this, though probably never would have put it on him.

"Good-bye, Cotton!" said a hoarse, trembling voice from a nearby cell.Clyde couldn't tell which one it was. "Go to a better world." Then another voice said, "Goodbye, Cotton, and God bless you, even if you don't speak English."

The procession passed by.That door closed.He's inside now.Undoubtedly, tied him up.What was there to say to him, to this insane man.Now it's over, it must be tied up.The hat was pulled down.After a while, after a while, of course...

Then, although Clyde didn't know it at the time, and didn't pay attention, the lights in this cell, the lights in the entire prison suddenly went dark.Some idiot, or some other brainless person, has come up with the idea of ​​putting the execution voltage on a single meter with the lights here and in all the houses.Immediately a voice called out: "Go. That's it. Well, he's done."

Another voice: "Yeah, last minute, poor guy."

Then, maybe a minute later, it goes dark a second time, for 1 seconds... and finally... a third time.

"Ah, it must be... now it's over."

"Yeah, what the other world looks like, now he knows."

After that, there was a dead silence.In some places murmured prayers were heard.Clyde was cold and shivering as if sick.He dared neither think nor shout.Ah, that's right, someone pulled down the curtains.And then...then.he went.The lights were dimmed like this three times just now.Of course, that is to activate the switch.And prayed for those nights.Such a groan, a cry! That pounding of the head! Only 1 minute ago, the person who was alive walked by, and now he is dead.And, one day, he... he..., how could he be sure that he wouldn't? He wasn't sure at all?

He lay face down on the bed, trembling.The men in charge of the prison came and pulled up the curtains, and they were apparently as calm as if they hadn't died.After that, he heard someone talking, not to him, but to someone else.

Poor Bathyur.The death penalty is simply not right.The warden thought so.So did they.The warden is working hard to abolish the death penalty.

But the man! His prayers! He is gone now.His cell at the other end was empty, another man was put in, and he had to leave after a while.Just like Keton.Just like yourself.After staying in this cell, I just lay on this straw mat.He stood up and sat down on the chair.But, he...they...had sat on it too.He stood up and finally fell on the straw mat. "My God! My God! My God! My God! My God!" he cried now, and it was no different from the voice of the man who frightened him the first night he came here.That person is still here.However, he is going too.And, all of them, maybe including himself, unless...unless...

He saw how the first of them died.

(End of this chapter)