I shot the sheriff, Schleel's first reality show challenge submission

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

An adaptation of the song "I shot the sheriff"
sorry it's so down, thats just how the lyrics spell it out to me when listening to the musical story.
the tone of the song cheers me up though, lol
hope you enjoy my story :)

He looked in my face, that cold stare breaking even my happy exteriour. When he spoke his words were cold, and they echoed across the tiny metal interrogation room like afftershocks to a soul-shattering earthquake. "You killed the deputy"

That was all I could hear, his cold and angry rants all fell deaf when he said something like that. I was completely defenseless, I didn't know how to respond, what was I gonna say? Was I just gonna open my big mouth and say look, I shot Sheriff Brown in self defense, but that is the only thing that happened.

When I spoke, it in a voice so meek it surprised me, I didn't know that I was talking until that cold echo reached me. "I shot the sheriff" I heard myself say "but I did not shoot the deputy." He gave me a look, a smile, the look of a man that had just gotten his first taste of happiness. It was pure evil, the police officer was just smirking. All of the sudden he spoke in a sudden up beat tone, almost laughing.

"So you shot the sheriff huh?" Damn, how could I be so stupid?! I doesn't matter why I shot him, just that i admitted to doing it. These cops didn't care about what really happened, they only cared about the loss of their so called "friend." I was afraid, I couldn't even look the bastard in the eye. It was all I could do to stay in my little metal chair and stair past him to the mirror. My thoughts raced "at least I can look someone in the eyes, if somebody is even behind that glass." I couldn't believe it, I sat here, accuesed of killing a man that I didn't kill, and even worse, i just confessed to killing a man that would've killed me.

As I sat there daydreaming and scolding myself I was finally brought back to reality by the man in front of me yelling. His mood had shifted, it was now pure fury, fury that showed itself in the deep frows on his forehead, and in the way his out of style mustache blew outward every time he said a word, and especialy in the man's enormous frame, as he threw his body around haphazerdly. "So you killed Brown too huh? Well thats just great, of course we would've put a needle in your arm with just deputy Colver, but this is icing on the god-damn cake."

I was shaking, but something started to build in me, a defiance and anger that built up slower and slower. I sat up and put my chest out, I noticed that I wasn't shaking so much from fear anymore, but from what? I stood up, and before the words even appeared in my mind I was already saying them. "Yes I shot your damn sheriff" I yelled, poking my finger into the now taken aback police officer. "He pulled a gun on me, so yes I shot your sherrif Brown, and I'm glad I did it, if I didn't I wouldn't be alive today." I felt the confidence building inside me along with the defiance I had been feeling. I stopped poking him and put my hands down at my side, screaming like a child having a fit "and as far as your damn deputy Colver, I don't know what the hell happened to him, but I sure as hell didn't have anything to do with it." We stood there for a second, face-to-face in awekward silence. He believed me, I could see it in his eyes, but there was also somthing else, something sinister.

"You know what?" he said, now perfectly calm and cold again "I don't really care, I don't like you, my friends don't like you, and as far as I'm concerned you can rot in prison...or hell, whichever the jury picks." With that he walked back out of the room. It was closing in on me now, I could feel it choking the life out of me, i could even feel where the corners were turned at my throaght. This was it, this room is going to be the last thing I see as a free man, and for what? For some silly grudge? No it was more than that, these cops were getting a kick out of this. The last thing I remember speaking before I was brought out of that room was a weak mutterance. "I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy."

Death row is a hell of a place to write memoirs huh?


Submitted: March 03, 2011

© Copyright 2021 Schleel. All rights reserved.

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