Lagos, Kiri-kiri Prison, May 18 2022, 7.pm
I can no longer hear the receding foot-falls of the priest who came to my cell to absolve me for the final time. The bowl of rice on my table has gotten cold and rancid. 17 years of being a death row prisoner did nothing to douse the anguished disbelief that has forever burned me. Well, tomorrow, ends my torment. I hear the hang man’s noose has been oiled. My last night on earth is coming to a close…
As the warden came to remove his limp body. A note fell out bearing the confession of the one who had committed the crime, addressed to the deceased 16 years ago… It was his son.
Written by PBlessing and Chidiebere Udeokechukwu
PPBlessing 