10 – Execution

9 – It’s a Date

“Hey Holland. You know where you are.” Holland looked around. It was useless, however, as he was blindfolded.

“Yeah, I remember. I’ve been waiting for an executioner. Is that you?” Holland let his head hang.

“Yes. I’m here to execute you.” Holland laughed.

“Great. Let’s do it then.”

“Hold on,” I gently pulled Holland’s face upward, “We aren’t done here. I have some questions about the four horsemen.” Holland shook his head. My hand sat beneath his chin.

“I’ve already said everything. It wasn’t me.” Holland made no effort to fight me. “Just shoot me already.”

“I know that. You are telling the truth.” I couldn’t see his eyes, but I’d be willing to bet they lit up under the blindfold.

“Does that mean you are going to try and get me out of here?” I slipped my hand out from under Holland’s chin. “No, that isn’t what it means.”

Holland looked confused. “Then why even mention it?”

“Hmm. That’s a loaded question. Do you know much about the horsemen of the apocalypse?” Holland shook his head. “Well, there are four. Clearly. It was said in the Bible that when these four horsemen-” I pressed my revolver to his head- “step onto earth, they will bring the end of the world. The first horseman was-” I pulled the trigger, and there was a click- “Famine.”

Holland sighed. “I’m going to have to hear all of this, aren’t I? Fine. Carry your lesson on.”

I shrugged, mostly for my own sake. “The second horseman was Pestilence. That means that the cities would be flooded with rats, cockroaches, and other such things. It can change with the region.” I pulled the trigger again. The second click rung out.

“I think I’ve figured out who you are. Fifteen. There was always something off about you. Oh well. I guess I’ll call figuring that out one more victory before my death.

“Very observant. It almost makes me regret framing you.” Holland perked up at hearing that.

“You framed me? You know this is recorded, right?” I laughed.

“You know it is very easy to tamper with recordings, right? We turned off the recorder already. According to official records, I’ve already shot you. Right after you told me to, I obliged. Nothing I say matters right now.” Holland grunted with rage, and struggled against his bonds. Then he sighed, and loosened all of his muscles.

“Why are you doing this?”

I laughed again. “I hate you, Holland.”

He gasped. “You know my name? How?”

“You were never very secure. In fact, I got all of the information to your police account eight days into the job. You left the information on a sticky note in your locker, which you also never lock. Also, changing your combination to one digit three times in a row isn’t very secure.”

Holland sighed while he shook his head, just to spice up his motions a little bit. “Great. I’m careless. Is that why you hate me? Fine, I’m a little headstrong if I had the balls to assume no one would go against me. Is that any reason to hate me?” I snickered at him. He really was oblivious to himself.

“That is exactly it. You thought that everyone would just like you, without question. You thought that everyone would just listen to you without a qualm, and held yourself above everyone else. You convinced yourself that the only reason you haven’t been promoted is because you are too efficient in the field. You thought that you would become some sort of hero by joining the force. You figured you would just make your way to fame by doing something ‘good.’ It’s laughable, really.” Holland sighed.

“Fine. Let’s just get on with the history lesson.”

“Okay. I can do that.” I patted Holland’s head. “The third horseman was War.” I pulled the trigger again. Again, the trigger held no bullet. “That leaves us with one last horseman. Do you have any ideas as to who that is?” Holland shook his head. “Why don’t you make a guess?”

Holland thought for a second. “I don’t know. Poverty?” I chuckled. “That’s a pretty good guess. But you are wrong.”

Holland sighed. “Who is it, Fifteen?”

I smiled. “Death.” I pulled the trigger, and Holland’s head was diminished to a mark on the wall in front of me. I spit on his corpse. “Good riddance.”

Next Chapter

Author: Kaleb Kathleen Walker

I write short stories, and post them to my site justmynarratives.com

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