It's Time, flash fiction by Mike Henry at Spillwords.com
Hasan Almasi

It’s Time

It’s Time

written by: Mike Henry

 

It’s 5:30 am and the patch of light on my ceiling tells me that out there in the big ol’ world the sun is just coming up over the horizon – start of a brand new day. I can hear the sound of footsteps approaching and there’s the familiar rattle of keys and chains.
After fourteen years in this place I’m happy to be finally getting out. It’s too late now to change the past but at least I know what the future holds and I don’t have to worry ‘bout nothin’ no more.
I guess things would be a whole lot different if I hadn’t gotten mixed up with Louie and Jose but, like I said, it’s too late to change the past and I guess they realize that now too. We all make our choices in life, I made mine and I ain’t got nobody but myself to blame.
Maybe things would have worked out different if Pop had been around but I never really knew him and I know Mom had a hard time raising me and the other kids on her own. That’s my main regret – breaking my Momma’s heart. I gotta admit I was a bit of a wild teen but she was always patient with me and I know she tried to point me in the right direction when things weren’t working out. Now I just hope she can find it in that broken heart of hers to forgive me for what I done.
I’m glad I managed to finish the book I’ve been reading this past month. I would’ve finished it sooner but it’s been hard to concentrate and I found myself going back and rereading whole pages. Reading’s a bit like riding a bicycle I guess – the more you do it, the better you get! I also done wrote letters to Darnell and Deshawn and Chantelle. Hopefully they will learn something from what I tried to tell them and not make the same mistakes their big brother made. As for Momma, I done said all I can say and a letter would not help the situation in any way now.
The head warden and two guards stop outside my cell and there’s a shriveled old padre hovering in the background. I see the warden’s got a clipboard under his arm. I know the papers on that clipboard bear the signature that seals my fate.
One of the guards opens the cell with the bunch of keys and they enter. Before they even ask, I raise my arms so they can cuff my wrists. They shackle my ankles too though I don’t know why – I ain’t goin’ nowhere!
So now I raise my head and the warden looks me straight in the eye and simply says, “Son, it’s time.”

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