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| Last Smoke | Started by: Oliver-Clothezov on Nov 22, '08 23:49 |
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LIFE BY THE DRAG As the cell door slammed behind death row inmate James "Jimmy Burns" Baskin, the escorting officer reached through the bars and handed him a cigarette. "Warden says every man's to get one last smoke before he meets his maker," the guard said in a somewhat matter of fact way. "Hope Camel's OK" "I usually smoke Pall Mall's," replied Jimmy grabing the smoke and putting it to his grinning lips. "But what the fuck does it matter now, got a match?" The guard handed him the match but when Jimmy grabbed it the guard didn't let go, he held on to it until Jimmy looked up and looked him in the eyes. For a brief moment Jimmy thought the guard was going to say something but then just as quickly he let go of the match and turned around. "Five minutes Jimmy," he said and slowly stepped away from the door. Jimmy walked toward the back of the cell and sat down on the bunk. He reached down and struck the match on the floor. He flared his nostrils and deeply inhaled the smell of the burning sulphur as it lit and began to flame..... It was one of the wooden type matches his grandmother would use to light the wood stove when he was a kid. It was his earliest childhood memory, seeing her there in her curlers and housecoat first thing in the morning splitting kindling with a little silver axe, and stuffing the old potbelly stove with newspapers and whatever else was lying around. Then she would go over to the shelf and pull out one of the long wooden kitchen matches she used to light the fire. He remembered his facination with the way the flame seemed to explode at the tip of the match when it was struck, and of course the smell, that wonderful rotten egg/chemical burning smell. Then the beautiful little flame would dance on the end of the wooden stick until it reached the awaiting pile of tinder. He loved to watch the flame catch the newspaper and turn it from gray to glowing red and then finally to ash and nothing. Like a small monster the flame grew and consumed the meal of paper and wood his grandmother had prepared for it. Throughout the years he would often think of that old smoke blackened stove where he had discovered the love of the life he had chosen to lead. As Jimmy put the match to his final cigarette he could hear the slight crackling sound of the tobacco as it absorbed the heat and began to turn to ash..... "Ashes to ashes" he thought and leaned back against the wall. Then he though back to the first time he had ever heard that phrase. It was at his grandmother's funeral when he was seven years old. The old woman had fallen asleep when the house caught fire and she became trapped inside. Somehow he had managed to escape and ran next door to get help, but by the time the neighbor man got there, it was too late. The investigator from the fire dept said it was an accident, "a coal had probably fell from the stove and started the blaze," he said. But Jimmy knew different. He was too scared and ashamed to tell anyone that it had been him who started the fire. How he had taken the box of matches from the shelf because he wanted to watch the beautiful flame dancing on the end of the little wooden stick. And how, when the flame got too close to his fingers and started to burn, he had dropped the beautiful little dancing flame, and it had fallen right into the open box of matches on the floor. The fire began to spread quickly and soon the whole floor was ablaze. Thats when he had panicked and ran outside to the neighbors. But there was one thing that he could be sure of, from that day forward Jimmy Burns would never panic again. |
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