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Short story: <i>Freedom</i>

As I recollect, the words they used 'bout me on the news afore I was caught was "delinquent" and "notorious".

Don't both them words have a fine roll on em when you say em aloud? "Delinquent" sounds a little small time, I'll admit, but "notorious has a real ring to it, makes you sound famous or somethin.

Only one thing I wish for, and that's that I could spend these last few hours outside, sniffing the air. Workin a railroad sure is hard, and I ain't forgot the sting and blood on the palms of my hands nor the ache in all my bones nor the pounding the sun made on my head neither. But when all said it don't smell like damp concrete and piss and death on the railroad neither. There's good bits and bad bits.

The priest's comin in now, to comfort me. He ain't a comfort, he's to tell me how I should give up my sinful ways and make Jesus my friend, so as how when my soul is 'mancipated from this body in a couple of hours by my neck I'll lie down in green pastures or somesuch.

I sure hope them green pastures smells a bit like a spring day on the railway.

This is the result of a fifteen minute writing exercise. The only constrictions were the time limit and five randomly selected words from the dictionary. Today the words were: emancipate, railroad, sinful, delinquent, and notorious.

Image courtesy of Ben.a.

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