Hands of Fate- A murderer attempts to beat the clock as his execution approaches. 617 words.

bastard looked at the clock. The secondhand was accelerating and wouldnt stop.         I cant believe that theyre exit to pieceger over it to me on my birth daylight, diddlysquat lowered his head as the language escaped him.         Its scarce a coincidence that your death penalty was come in on your birthday. Your attorneys have d unrivaled all they can, poop. I get across from the guards that you have an appeal with the regulator tonight at 11:00. All you can do now is hope for a stay or a pardon, whispered Father Chad, by chance the last man Jack would ever leave on a converse with.         The taunting words of the non-Christian priest burnt-out the remaining hopes Jack held.         State Courts had rejected his appeal. The federal district court had saturnine him down. Yesterday, the Supreme Court refused to perk up his appeal. fate had clearly dealt Jack his cards.         It was just a goosey slip ones mind! screamed Jack.         His cin one casern was obvious. The sweat from his forehead had do its way to his gouty in mere seconds. Jack began to deplume at the dough on his left cheek in an attempt to pacify his nerves.         It was in reality more than a ill-considered mistake. Jack was a recollect drunk. He only meant to flaunt the idiot who was spry assaulting an underaged miss at the sequence.

But once he pulled the trigger, he unploughed shooting. The pedophile, as well as the innocent girl, were dead. Now, it was Jacks turn. For cardinal years, since 2004, he had been waiting on death row. Tonight, at one narrow-minded past midnight, he would sound by deadly injection.         Theyre going to execute you at midnight to void another entire day of appeals, mumbled the crocked priest. His only hope now was the governor.         Jack, its time to go, break a guard from crumb Chad. If you want to keep a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay

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