Horror / Prelude (Analysis)
Angola, LA
October 3, 2002 – 12:30 p.m.
A helicopter touched down on the prison helipad. The blue and gold seal on its side featured a pelican tending to its three young chicks in its nest, surrounded by the words UNION, JUSTICE, and CONFIDENCE. The outer rim was inscribed, State of Louisiana.
The strong breeze generated by the chopper’s blades blew the Governor’s full head of gray-brown hair out of place as he descended from the chopper’s cabin.
“Governor Richard, welcome to the Louisiana State Penitentiary,” a smallish looking man yelled over the noise. He extended his hand. “It’s an honor to have you with us, sir!”
The Governor ignored the handshake attempt. “Where you from son?”
“Just transferred here from Florida, sir,” the man replied.
“Well, that explains it. In these parts, the last name is pronounced Ree-shard,” the Governor corrected with a gleam in his shocking blue eyes.
“Sorry sir,” the man apologized. He hadn’t known the correct pronunciation, but had seen Louisiana’s infamous Governor on television several times. He could have sworn Randy Richard had hazel eyes. He wrote it off as a mistake and escorted the Governor to the warden’s office.
- *
Panama X sat on his cot inside of Camp F. His legs were crossed with feet on thighs in the Lotus position. A wrinkle-free left hand rested on his left knee while his right hand completely covered his nose, constricting the air flow there. His cell was just a short walk from the electric chamber.
He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth in a series of rapid, deep inhalations and exhalations. The expulsions of air were violent in nature, but Panama X’s face remained still and calm like the long pauses that accompanied each breathing series. The Pranayama power breathing ritual always left him feeling exhilarated, but a little dizzy. A static electric energy swirled around him, growing in intensity with each burst of breath. The papers of his memoir ruffled noisily as if a strong breeze was blowing inside the cell.
Warden George Winey made Governor Richard wait before letting him back. He’d been waiting six years for this opportunity to repay the arrogant prick. After the prison riots in 1999, a third of his prison had been destroyed. Richard had made him beg, borrow, and steal for the funding to rebuild.
But that was then and this was now. After twenty-one minutes of reveling in his good fortune, he told his assistant to admit the Governor. He expected the other man to be furious, but Richard acted as if he were a man used to waiting.
“So Randy, what brings you to my little corner of the world on such a bad day?” George asked after the Governor was seated before him.
Randy formed a church steeple with his hands as if invoking a prayer. “Well George, you know it had to be urgent for me to fly all the way out here, especially with Isaac on the way. Did you catch my press conference this morning?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then you know about Malcolm Wright’s new situation.”
“Yes, and I’ve already made the appropriate provisions.”
“You have? On whose authority?”
“Well, on yours. You made that big announcement, so we moved him.”
“This is embarrassing. I came to inform the inmate personally…” Randy drifted off. “Well I still need to speak with him.”
“No way that’s going to happen,” George replied smugly.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re in the state of Angola now, my friend,” the warden said. “And in here, I’m the Governor. Sure you pulled some strings with your buddies on the Pardon Board to get Lincoln Baker released, but I’m not your buddy.”
The Governor stood and walked over to the office’s lone window.
The warden continued, “If you want to see any of my prisoners, you have to make an appointment like anyone else. And if you’re not on their list, then it’s one tough titty said the kitty. Now I could always make an exception. But because this particular prisoner is on Death Row, I can’t afford to have anyone, not even you, agitating him before his time is up. That is his right and those are my rules.”
The Governor turned around and marched back toward the desk. There was something about his movements that made the warden’s muscles tighten underneath his clothes. Their eyes met and the warden found himself contemplating the crazy notion that the Governor’s eyes had changed colors. Before he could ask if Randy was wearing some kind of blue contact lenses, the Governor said, “Well George, this is your kingdom and you’re free to do as you wish. I respect that. I’ll be going now.”
The Governor extended his hand and when George reluctantly grasped it, Randy pulled the man close across the desk and whispered, “You know, I haven’t been feeling like myself this morning.” George’s eyelids suddenly felt impossibly heavy. He struggled to blink.
When the warden opened his eyes again he was staring at the underside of his desk. Someone was shaking his shoulder. George looked up into the concerned face of the Randy Richard.
“Say, George, wake up. Wake up, George!”
“Huh? What happened?” The warden allowed the Governor to help him onto his feet.
“We were discussing the situation with Malcolm and you took a tumble.”
The warden looked around his office as if seeing it for the first time. On his desk, he saw he’d been writing the Governor a pass into Death Row to see Malcolm Wright a.k.a. Panama X.
“That can’t be right,” he said sitting up straight in his seat.
“Come again?” the Governor replied.
“This isn’t right. We moved Wright to solitary just this morning. That’s where you’ll be able to see him.”
- *
Panama X opened his eye at the sound of approaching footsteps. The guard opened his cell door and Panama X followed the stocky corrections officer down a long corridor into the only other room in solitary. The visitation chamber consisted of a lone table with one chair on either side. Peeling walls surrounded the room’s centerpiece and burnt orange light filtered through the three barred windows cut into the far wall.
Randy Richard looked into the ready right eye of his father’s killer. The infamous pirate-esque eye patch covered the other. The black man before him appeared ageless. Two armed guards stood on either side of the door and a third guard escorted Panama X to the empty chair opposite the Governor.
Staring at Randy Richard, Panama X remembered the last time they had both occupied the same space some thirty-two years earlier. Time had been good to the politician, but Panama X could smell Richard’s age. He also detected the morbid scent of mild decay only he could have noticed.
As he sat, Panama X looked at each guard in turn and said, “Leave us.”
To Randy’s shock, the guards actually obeyed the criminal’s command. The warden hadn’t been kidding when he said the rules were different in here. Panama X was not wearing handcuffs or restraint of any kind. The sound of the reinforced door slamming shut crushed his confidence. He had a moment to think, what the hell am I doing here?
“Well, Governor,” Panama X said. “Here we are again. It’s no Casco Viejo but it’ll do for now. Are you comfortable?”
“I’m fine,” Randy replied, fidgeting.
“I know about my execution being moved up,” Panama X said, adjusting his eye-patch. “That’s one hell of a bargaining chip.”
“I thought so.”
“So what do you want from me?” Panama X asked.
“I want my daughter back. And once I have her back, I want to watch you fry.”
“Well, everybody wants something right? If you keep breathing long enough, you may even get your wish.”
Randy Richard glared at him from across the table. “You know, I could pay these guards to kill you.”
“Then you wouldn’t get your daughter back, would you? Besides, I think they voted for the other guy. So, let’s talk about why you’re really here.”
Panama X suddenly inhaled so deeply it seemed his diaphragm would simply explode. After sucking in an immense amount of air, he violently exhaled, spewing a dark cloud like substance into the Governor’s face. Randy choked and clutched his throat. He couldn’t see or breathe.
“Baka! Come forth!” Panama X commanded.
Randy’s body immediately stiffened in a temporary paralysis and he felt as if his skull were splitting in two. He was aware of an alien presence charging out of the shadows of his subconscious. Randy grabbed the cord of self-control and tried to hold on with every bit of mental strength he had. In his mind’s eye he felt himself slipping towards the darkness as the shadowy figure pulled its way into the light. Soon he found himself locked inside the mental equivalent of a solitary confinement cell. From there Randy saw that his mental adversary was his son, Kristopher, dead for over ten years now.
Panama X watched Randy struggle to maintain control over his faculties. Of course, the skirmish was over before it even began. Man was no match for a determined spirit. Moments later, sharp blue eyes stabbed out of the Governor’s sweating face.
Kristopher Richard popped his father’s neck from side to side. “Okay. We’re here. Why did you call me?”
“I brought you here to bring him here. Your
life and death are of no consequence to me. Be still spirit!”
The body before him froze again. Kristopher fought against the command but Panama X was too powerful. Panama X stood up and walked around the table as the Governor’s eyes (one blue, the other hazel) tracked him until he passed out of peripheral vision.
Panama X quickly collected a strand of the Governor’s hair, some dead skin, and a piece of thread from his blazer. Then he bent over and began whispering foreign words in the man’s ear. When he finished, he walked back to his chair and sat down.
“You see Kristopher, Randy came here to announce my execution, but all he did was sign his own death warrant. He’s lucky I have plans for him or else I’d let you complete your duty. His strength is now my strength and his weakness has been increased one hundred fold. Can you feel the shift in his aura?” He watched with satisfaction as the head nodded once. So much for spirits being uncontrollable.
“Release this body!” At his command, all the color drained from Randy’s face. Randy’s eyes bulged. Spittle dribbled down his chin. His body quivered.
Moments later it was just Randy and Malcolm again, just as it had been so many years earlier, in that Panamanian bar where this madness all started.
Randy’s eyes slowly cleared (and turned hazel again), and Panama X said, “Thank you for the courtesy of letting me know first hand.”
“What? Um, yes. Of course. I owed you that after all these years.” Randy appeared to be puzzled but quickly recovered his bearings. He remembered nothing but what Panama X allowed him to remember.
“Well then. It seems there’s nothing left to say.”
“One…last…thing,” the Governor said in Kristopher Richard’s voice, his eyes suddenly blazing from hazel back to that baleful blue. “Remember…the…contract. You’ve sent the dead. The dead…are…coming.”
Slightly flustered, Panama X quickly called for the guards and they escorted the two men in separate directions. As they locked him back into his solitary cell, Panama X contemplated the baka’s last words. He wasn’t frightened. He was prepared for whatever fate had in store.
He rubbed his hand over the front page of his memoir. He felt full. The time was right for revolution. And he’d forged the man who would spread his message from the underbelly of suffering and brutality that was the true America.
Panama X visualized Lincoln’s face – the son that should have been his. Panama X opened the cover of his memoir to reveal a four by six photo of a beautiful woman; clearly Creole from her complexion and exotic French-African features. Everything I’ve ever done that ever mattered, I’ve done for you.
“Juanita,” he whispered to the picture. “Your death was not in vain. Randy Richard will be punished for what he did to you.” To us. “Just as soon as he completes his end of the bargain.”
Panama X put away his long dead love’s picture, sat back on the cot, and descended back into his meditative state, a grim smile gracing his lips.
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I still wonder why it’s “after” rather than “during” the prison riots of 1999 that a third of the prison is destroyed. The antagonism between Randy and George should be stronger, I think. I know they don’t like each other but doesn’t the governor vastly outrank the warden? They do in Texas.
I like the bit about “I haven’t been feeling myself this morning” but you really don’t need to tell us “his eyes grew heavy…” etc. Waking up under the desk is enough.
Your pacing is awfully fast. True, you should move fast in an intro or prologue but what might happen if your prologue ended with George waking up under his desk. There’s really plenty of time to intro Panama X later and what you have here could effectively be handled in another chapter or two. The issue of pacing and setting, as well as character and plot development are all tied together here. If you slow down the narrative, you’ll add depth and suspense to your plot as well as make your characters more interesting. You’ve got something to work with here but I think it’s too sparse as is.
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i’m not realy into this kind of thing, however those who are would find it quite intoresting. i don’t like the name panama x, it’s too much like melcom x . why not just panama? the start seemed a little labored in the wording but as it progressed it got better. i did wonder why some one with so much power was in prison on death row, but i see that it was to trap the govenor.
all in all it shows a lot of promiss.
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To be honest, you had me when I read the setting. I’m fascinated by Angola, and love stories about Louisiana. One suggestion, I have is to incorporate description of setting. Your characters and the flow of the story is impeccable, but there’s no real mental pictures of setting. Louisiana is such a unique and lush place to write about, it can be both sensuous and sinister at the same time. Incorporate that into your writing and this would be incredible! :) Would love to read more!
The prelude is written well, though I don’t know, maybe a present tense would be better. You’ve got a photographic style, more like a screenplay than a novel. I think you should change the initial dialogue between the Governor and the man taking him to the warden. Like this it doesn’t make much sense, because such a presentation of the Governor’s character creates some expectations that are not kept in the following pages. The Governor is presented as a not very kind person but a strong character, who is later too easily defeated by Panama X. As for the suspance, I wasn’t much thrilled all along the reading. I think you should be longer in descriptions and details and let the tension increase more.
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After a good, grabbing opening your story moves at too hasty a pace. Your character gets out of his cell and arrives inside a new room, all in the first paragraph. What is he thinking and feeling? Put us in his shoes.
“Hell of a bargaining chip”- this should be in the same paragraph.
”...something right?”- insert comma.
After “Release this body!” Start a new paragraph.
“Everything I’ve ever done”- Here the story changes from first person to third person. Either this is an error, or it’s not clear that it is his thoughts.
When you mention this “dark cloud”, the story suddenly becomes some kind of fantasy horror after starting as a sort of jail tail, if you like. The suspension of disbelief is suddenly broken. It made me wonder whether this was the first chapter or if there was information prior to this. Likewise, why did the governor have unmatching eyes? Is it a defect or does he wear contacts for style?
The trouble with writing about spirits/ the general paranormal is that many people are dubious of these things in real life, and in this story we are forced into accepting these elements early on. I think paranormal incidents have to be introduced gradually for the reader to become accustomed to them.
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