My Cursed Kingdom
This is my kingdom, i am the slave.

The Devil’s Work

“Mr. Masroor this is not going anywhere. I’m trying to help you but it’s no use if you’re not going to tell me the truth!”

“ I am telling you the truth Mr. Abdullah! What is the use of you representing me in court if you don’t even believe me! Might as well just leave me here to rot till I get a sentence. Don’t you think I’m going through enough mental trauma as it is?”

“The evidence has been thoroughly gone through with, even by myself; and I can tell you Mr. Masroor, even for an advocate who is defending you in court I find it very hard to believe that you are not guity.”

“I am innocent! I swear by God I am innocent! Why in this forsaken earth would I take the life of the one person I admired the most. The person from who’s blood I descended. My own father!” the convicted sales person from a small time medical store raged as he banged his handcuffed fists on the desk infront of him, the sound seeming louder than it actually was in the small interrogation room.

The lawyer sat back in his chair calmly with his elbows on both arm rests and his fingers touching their counterparts. After a long pause he spoke.

“ That is what I’m asking you Mr.Masroor, why would you? I’m sorry to admit it but I don’t buy the emotional stress that you are portraying here. The evidence speaks for itself.”

“ Then I guess I’ll just have to ask for another lawyer because clearly you can not get me out of this.”

“ I am the only bloody lawyer you can get Mr.Masroor! You have been convicted of murder don’t you forget that! You don’t get many options. If you confess to me right now and cooperate with me, I can get you a maximum time of twelve years, nothing more than that for I really am the best defending lawyer this state has to offer the guilty. But if you want to have it your way, there is not much I can do. You can even be looking at a life sentence.” He said rising up from his chair and walking around the table to his client.

The sales person said nothing as he just stared into space.

“ Your father was found dead on the floor at his house 4 days ago, drenched in his own vomitus and stool. His skin cold as the winter and his skin full of eruptions like a leper on a bad day. An autopsy was done but that was just for confirmation. Any forensic expert could have told you how he had died even without the autopsy. You know Mr.Masroor , arsenic stays in the stomach for days even after it has consumed its victim. A good choice Mr.Masroor as arsenic is one of the deadliest and the most easily available poisons but I’m sure you did not know that it is one of the easiest poisons to detect on autopsy.

The whole house had been thoroughly searched and the police found only one other persons finger prints apart from your father’s. Yours Mr.Masroor. The neighbors told the police that you had been seen coming and going from your fathers house several times during the past week. If my information is correct, you had not been at good terms with him for a few months now over a row concerning some inheritance issues. I wonder what incentive you had for killing your father when you learnt that he was planning to name everything he owned, that would be the paper factory, to your elder brother. The world is not that ignorant or stupid Mr.Masroor.”

The accused stared right at the advocate not moving an inch, not saying anything.

Two months later the accused was sentenced, not for life, but to the electric chair.

The old house seemed very quiet and calm after two months of the old man’s death. The garden grew unchecked. The window panes swung unnoticed. Everything inside was just as the old man had left it. Dirty dishes in the sink and food stains all over the kitchen table. Vomit stains on the floor near the stove. A big steel bowl on the stove, full of water. The old man very conscious about his health believed in cooking his own food and boiling his own water. The walls and the ceiling needing to be repainted for a long time. Large chunks of paint coming off from everywhere. The sky blue walls and ceiling were almost rusty brown after all these years. Everytime one of the trucks from the nearby container shipping company passed from the road infront of the house, the vibration in the walls would cause the pieces of paint to fall off, sometimes on the floor sometimes in the water being boiled in the large steel bowl on the stove. The paint being composed of many different chemicals, one of them being arsenic.

One Response to “The Devil’s Work”

  1. Nice ending. Why did you have to kill me?

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