A Fate Worse than Death

Flash Fiction by Tyler Marable

Clarence Whitley had another nightmare, like the one that came before, and the one that preceded that one. This time, he sat bound and gagged in a chair. A little girl with blonde piggytails stood in front of him, holding a knife. She looked no more than ten.

His heart raced. An ineffable fear consumed him. The little girl took a step forward. He screamed into his gag as the knife bit into his neck, sawing into his jugular.

Clarence awakened with a start, drenched in sweat. Just another nightmare. But it felt so real. He rose from bed and went to the bathroom, looking into the mirror. A pallid reflection stared back at him, its eyes puffy and red. Every night, he had the same nightmares over and over, each one seemingly more real than the last.

Clarence didn’t want to go back to sleep. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water and sat in the reclining chair. He turned on the TV, trying to switch channels. The damn thing must have been broken. The only channel he could watch featured horror movies. They filled him with terror. He turned the TV off and sat in silence. There he cowered in the living room, trying not to fall back asleep.

When drowsiness threatened to take him into slumber, Clarence threw on his jogging gear. The morning was brisk and crisp. The fresh air enveloped him as he jogged through a peaceful mountain trail. The surrounding woods offered no natural symphony today. No birds chirped. Only silence and the sound of his breath. He felt eyes on him.

Clarence stopped to catch his breath. He was wide awake now, thank God. It didn’t bother him before, but the silent woods now caused him to shiver. A twig snapped. Clarence spun to see a hunter standing among the trees. The hunter was wearing camouflage with an orange vest pulled over the top. He held a shotgun.

“You scared me,” Clarence said.

The hunter said nothing, only smiled.

Something told Clarence to run. He fled back towards his cabin. The hunter was upon him. He tackled Clarence to the ground. Clarence kicked and scratched and punched, but nothing would deter his assailant. The hunter wrestled Clarence’s pants off. Clarence screamed as the hunter raped him. He wailed when the hunter plunged a knife into his chest over and over.

Clarence awakened with a start once more. He was sitting in his living room. A horror movie played on the TV, a hunter raping and killing another man. Clarence sighed and turned the TV off. Another nightmare. What could he do? He needed to see a psychiatrist. How could he work if he couldn’t sleep? How could he live?

A creak in the hallway caused Clarence’s head to snap right. He stared down it. The hall was long and dark. The floor creaked and moaned again. Dread suffused through his body.

With trepidation, Clarence left his seat. A trembling hand found the light switch in the hallway. He flipped it.

A woman stood there, holding a butcher’s knife, her face set in a sinister stare. Clarence tried to run, but the woman was on him, her weight flinging him to the floor. The knife tore into his back over and over.

Clarence awakened in bed, breathing heavily. He tried not to fall back asleep, but sleep found him once more. And so did the nightmares.

“Punitive stasis released,” a female voice said.

Clarence found himself in the Punitive Stasis Pod. A click signaled the locking mechanisms had disengaged. The door opened. A nurse removed the feeding tube from his throat and the IV from his arm. Two police officers undid Clarence’s restraints, pulled him from the pod, and plopped him down in a wheelchair. He didn’t try to fight them. He didn’t even have the strength to stand. Even so, they cuffed his ankles and hands and wheeled him down a long corridor.

The fluorescent lights above blinded Clarence; his eyes took minutes to adjust. The officers twisted and turned through the building until they came to a room full of people. Six men and one woman sat behind a long desk. They were well-dressed. Each of their faces housed firm expressions.

“Clarence Whitley, this is your Assuagance Hearing,” the man in the middle said. “I am Mr. Reed. I’m in charge of the hearing.”

“What do you want?” Clarence said. “I’ll give you anything.”

“You have been convicted of killing three people,” the woman said. “Damien Locke, Ellanor Lane, and Raven Brooks, age nine.”

Clarence didn’t lower his head. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“How many others did you kill, Clarence?” Mr. Reed asked. “Tell us, and we’ll consider assuaging your punishment.”

“Six,” Clarence immediately said. “No … seven … I think.”

“Do you know where the bodies are?” the woman asked.

Over the next hour, Clarence told the Assuagance Board the identities and locations of his remaining victims. In all, he had killed ten. He had hoped to achieve more than that, but the law caught up to him.

“Thank you, Clarence,” Mr. Reed said.

“Am I free to go into general population?” Clarence asked. “No, you don’t even have to put me into general population. Solitary confinement will be fine.”

“When listening to your story, you showed no remorse,” Mr. Reed said. “In fact, you were excited. I saw joy on your face, enthusiasm in your words. We’re sentencing you to another ten years in the Punitive Stasis Pod. Once we have confirmed the identities of your last victims, you will relive their final moments as if you were them over and over.”

The two police officers wheeled Clarence out of the room and back towards the Punitive Stasis Pod.

“No!” Clarence screamed. “I gave you what you wanted. It’s cruel and unusual. Give me the death penalty!”

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Bio: Tyler Marable lives with his family in Alabama. He enjoys good food, good drinks, and good people. His debut novel Seventh Column is available for download on Kindle.

Cover photo by:pexels/Christian Wasserfallen

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