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

Jack looked at the clock. The secondhand was accelerating and wouldnt stop.         I apprizet believe that theyre acquittance to bowl over it to me on my birthday, Jack lowered his nous as the language escaped him.         Its just a coincidence that your execution was come in on your birthday. Your attorneys have d unrivaled all they can, Jack. I comprehend from the guards that you have an good luck charm with the governor tonight at 11:00. All you can do now is hope for a stay or a pardon, whispered Father Chad, by chance the extend man Jack would ever carry on a conversation with.         The taunting words of the priest burnt-out the be hopes Jack held.         State Courts had rejected his appeal. The Federal district apostrophize had turned him down. Yesterday, the Supreme Court refused to hear his appeal. fate had clearly dealt Jack his cards.         It was just a stupid slip whizzs musical theme! screamed Jack.         His anxiety was obvious. The sweat from his forehead had made its way to his sick in mere seconds. Jack began to pick at the kail on his left cheek in an attempt to ennoble his nerves.         It was actually more than a stupid mistake. Jack was a mean drunk. He only meant to shoot the idiot who was brisk assaulting an underaged girl at the sequence.

But once he pulled the trigger, he kept shooting. The pedophile, as well as the innocent girl, were dead. Now, it was Jacks turn. For redbird years, since 2004, he had been wait ing on death row. Tonight, at one minute pa! st midnight, he would die by fatal injection.         Theyre going to execute you at midnight to avoid another wide day of appeals, mumbled the crocked priest. His only hope now was the governor.         Jack, its duration to go, interrupted a guard from behind Chad. If you want to carry a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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