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The Firing Squad

I'm stood in front of the firing squad, tied to a post. I recognize one of the soldiers. He and I had an affair just after I married. Surely he wouldn't shoot me. He'll pass a message to his friends: shoot over her head, and he'll fire his bullet so it ricochets off the wall and cuts through the ties that bind me to the post, and then I'll whistle and my trusty steed will race to me and I'll jump on his back and we'll escape.

A priest comes over. "Is there anything you want to confess?"

"It wasn't me father, I never committed adultery with any one ever. It was my husband, he was too fat to... he couldn't fulfil his conjugal duties."

"But you knew he was fat when you're married him."

"I thought he'd diet."

"Repent!"

"I haven't done anything wrong."

The priest left. An officer raised his sword. I looked at the firing squad, the boy I once loved. Then I saw another, and another. They smiled. I realised I had slept with all five of the firing squad. They raised their rifles and aimed. I closed my eyes. They fired. I waited. Nothing. I looked. The smoke was clearing. The firing squad lay dead.

My husband, the governor, walked over. "Any man you love, I'll kill."

"But you won't kill me."

"You're already dying. Your first lover had syphilis."

"But that's curable."

"Not in prison."

Story by:

Samantha Memi

samanthamemi@gmail.com

submitted at 11:09pm

20 July 2011

Samantha Memi's web:

samanthamemi.weebly.com