Drop-Off, by Bobby Warner

(F.F.F. Website Story)

The high sheriff wheezes and prods me up the scaffold steps. I stop over the trap door. They put the noose around my neck, throw a hood over my head.

The sheriff reads about what I’ve done, and how much I deserve to die. Then he asks me if I have any last words to speak.

I shake my head, busy thinking about where I’m going after I’m dead.

Everything gets quiet, someone pulls a lever, there’s a chunking sound, and the trap door falls away. There’s a terrible pain, but that’s okay. I hear angels starting to sing me home.

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