The Story Lab – My Short Story
A low, solemn note reverberated around the square as the bell tolled in the high tower. He begins walking down the gravel path, people jeering either side of it, their faces filled with derision.
I am innocent. I am not a bad man. I provided for my family, I helped the community, I am integral to the evolution of science and mankind alike. Nothing I did was ever against the betterment of humanity; scientific research to aid progress. For what of the world’s inner workings would we understand without the crucial information I gleaned from everything I did?
The church bell rings for the second time. He pauses at the foot of the wooden steps, apprehension freezing his body in place. Red droplets stain the coarse stones beneath his feet as they bleed freely. He turns around to scan the citizens who line the path, a seemingly endless crowd of unanimous conviction.
There they stand, leering at me like I am a rabid dog that needs to be put down before it attacks one of the virtuous followers of justice. How hard it must to stand amongst a mass of unassuming peers and pass judgement onto someone labelled guilty without truly knowing all the facts. I heard them all, whispering about the graves. But do any of them know what was buried in the earth? They were only animals, sick and dying, on their last legs and perfect for experiments. Close to the end, what could be a better way to spend the final hours of your life than helping future generations learn more about the grand scope of things?
The church bell rings for a third time. The two guards simultaneously push him forwards, making him climb the three wooden stairs to the wide platform in the middle of the throng. He winces as a splinter pierces his toe, drawing more blood from his tattered feet. He looks up to the swathe of angered faces, holding his head high, dignified and proud.
They knew he was innocent. They heard him screaming it to the police as they led him away from his home, his solitude from the stupidity of those outside, where he could investigate the natural world in peace. Away from the incessant pleas of the people, begging to be cured of a simple sniffle so they could go back to work on Rennie’s Bridge and provide for their families. I am a scientist, not a doctor to aid those in “need” whenever they summon me. I am a man out of his time and the simpletons of this century cannot understand the breakthroughs I have and will continue to make.
The church bell rings for the fourth time. The guards push him into position and he can feel the trap door give slightly beneath his feet. The officer raises his hands for silence from the unruly crowd.
“Everett Newton Irving, you have been found guilty of thirty-seven counts of murder…”
Lies.
“…including the death of Lord Wilde and his two daughters.”
A dying man and his feeble offspring.
The church bell rings for the fifth time.
“You have been convicted through the evidence found by the City of London Police which include, but is not limited to, the thirty-six graves found in the garden of your residence…”
A fitting tribute for those who contributed to the future of mankind.
“… the illegal surgical equipment used to torture your victims…”
MY LAB YOU BLIND APE! An operating theatre dedicated to uncovering the mysteries of humanity in order to ensure a better future for every drooling buffoon on this rock!
“…and the most damning fact being the discovery of yourself in the midst of torturing your wife, Veronica Irving.”
An intrusion into what would have been my greatest discovery, I am sure of it.
The church bell rings for the sixth and final time. The executioner grabs his hair, placing the rope around his neck and throwing a sack over his head to wild applause from the restless horde. He then walks to his station, his heavy footsteps sending vibrations through his feet and up to his skull.
In time, with the coming generations, they will finally understand my noble work. They will praise me as the greatest mind of my time and weep over my wrongful death.
The trapdoor suddenly gives way. The rope constricts around his neck, immediately cutting off his breathing. He gasps for life as his body swings in tandem with the cheers of the London public. He feels death approach, the final light bringing an unfamiliar sensation with it. It grabs his heart and grips it tight. Fear has finally pierced his soul.
I am guilty.
