A Winter Wonderland

I must have been daft making a run for it in the snow.
Even dafter, though, sitting around waiting to be hung.

How far have I come? Not even a mile and stuck under some bleeding bush. And why pick one with spikes all over it. Can’t get any further in, brambles stuck up my arse and hair caught in the branches. Mind you, after three months without a bloody mirror no one`s going to look their best.

What did I think was going to happen, climb over the wall, nobody misses me, stroll to the road, hail a passing drayman and pay him with love in Rochester? I must have been stupid.

I didn’t even mean to kill the silly cow. I loved her for Christ sake. Best sister I ever had but she shouldn`t have taken the piss especially when she knew I was in the mood.

What’s that noise? Oh shit, not dogs. What do they need bloody dogs for? In this snow even someone as stupid as Tickner could follow my footprints. Can’t get any further under this bush. Bloody hell it`s wet and so bleeding cold.

I bet they’ll have their guns, the fat bastards. They reckon the last one to try this got shot giving up, so that’s it, no giving up. But where to go? If I can just make it to the road…

The last ten minutes of life were turning out to be remarkably rational (and cold).

Part of the problem is getting out from under this bush but here goes… That`s it. Out. Bleeding but ignore it, just bloody run.

Water. Yes that’s it, water puts dogs off. Jump.

No chance.

Up to my waist in water - not good. My bloody ankle hurts too. Keep moving… shit its cold. Get to the bank. Up, go on push. Push. It’s not working. I can’t do it. Please, please let me make it. God please. I didn’t mean to kill her. I loved her and, any way, they shouldn’t hang women. They should hang bleeding Tickner. Him and those like him. They treat you like rats just ‘cause you’re in prison and they love killing.

Go down river - it'll be easier. Shit they’re close. Bleeding dogs. They’re not going to come in here though. I’ll drown the bastards! That’s what I’ll do, Bugger ‘em, I’ll drown myself. Tickner’s not having the pleasure and I’m not going back. Stones. I need stones, heavy stones, these aren't heavy enough. This one is. Hold it in my arms. Cross them, I bet that’s what you’re supposed to do.

They’re so close. The dogs, they’ve found me but they won’t come in the water.

Sorry God, I really did try to be good. Sorry Mum, sorry Grandad, sorry Francis, love you…sorry baby Michael…. See you all in heaven. They’re here, Come on Beth…Do it….Go…Now.

By James Kruschev