An Execution by FinnMacCool

[FinnMacCool]

Dedicated: To all the Communists out there. We may not agree but fuck it, we're in the same game.


I saw the traitor.

He sat beneath me at my feet, his eyes fluttering nervously at us, his breathing erratic and short. Tears welled up in his eyes as his fate was proclaimed. This man was a traitor. He had betrayed us, his comrades, on several occasions. He was, perhaps, responsible for the deaths of at least four of our former mates.

Knowing this, I still faltered at the order. The commander pronounced that he would have to die; my rifle suddenly felt a great deal heavier as I realized what one of us was going to have to do. My arms would not obey him. I did not want to kill this pathetic man, however distasteful he was.

I looked towards my fellow soldiers for help. We all were standing in a circle around the man, who was on his knees weeping like a little child. Their faces showed them unwilling to carry out the order and they would look from one person to the next as though hoping someone else would step up.

Suddenly, there was rain. I felt it on the tip of my nose, and I used this as a good excuse to pull my eyes away from the traitor. It started slowly, with only a few scattered drops but then there was the sound of distant thunder and the rain came down, with ferocious quickness. Our commander watched us there, his hair and beard damp from the water. His face was expressionless as he shook his head from one side to the other, and slowly turned, walking towards a hut, which was about seven yards from where we stood.

The long silence was only disrupted by the ceaseless blubbering of our disgraced comrade. We all watched him, indecisively. Only recently, he had been a friend, a true comrade. He laughed with us, reveled in our victories, and cursed our defeats. Would we kill him now?

I gazed over at Ernesto. He stood to the left of me, watching the traitor silently. His eyes showed no hint of maliciousness but all the same it was a cold stare. Often times, Ernesto’s spirit had lifted our hearts. This man seemed, without hesitancy or doubt, unrelenting in his ultimate goal; our ultimate goal. I often found myself envying him.

Suddenly I felt his eyes meet mine. I sensed his overwhelming certainty, his power, and his experience. I was afraid, he was not. I felt pathetic and averted my eyes hopelessly.

I stared at the mud for a moment, watching the rain hit the earth.. It made a soft sound which gave me some much needed distraction. I watched it intensely, finding myself wondering what exactly I was doing here, out in the mud; in the Cuban countryside. What was the point?

I heard a sigh come from the left of me.

Ernesto had taken out his .38 pistol. He did not hesitate but pointed the weapon directly at the side of the traitors head, and fired.

The traitor died immediately. He slumped to the ground soundlessly, face down in the mud. The rain now hit his body. I looked at Ernesto. His eyes were calm. Neither hate nor sadness seemed to plague him.

He dropped down towards the dead man’s body. There was a golden watch upon its wrist, which now rightfully belonged to Ernesto since he killed him. He grasped hold of it and attempted to unfasten it, but the rain made this hard to do. He struggled with it for a few seconds when, suddenly, he let the watch go, allowing it to snap back at the corpse’s hand. At that moment, I thought I saw some kind of emotion rise up within him. His expression had not changed, yet I sensed hesitancy about him which I had rarely encountered. However it was quickly suppressed. With a violent jerk, he ripped the watch from the corpse’s wrist. The hand hit the ground again, lifeless.

I had to wonder, why could he kill this man when none of us could? It was odd, but I noticed how his face was so set on what he was doing. Once again, I found myself in admiration of that man.

As I watched the corpse now with a mixed feeling of sadness, shock, and grim resolve, Ernesto simply put his pistol away and slowly walked towards the hut in which our leader had taken cover from the rain in. I wondered, as I viewed him crossing the field, what he felt about his cause, now stained by blood, not just of the enemies, but of his own people. Would he falter now? I could not say, but from his actions I would think not. Instead, I began to believe.

I believed in Cuba, I believed in Communism, and, above all, I believed in Ernesto.

I believe in Che.

[Ander]

Wow, very nice. Do you have any other pieces you have written?

[More Fire for the People]

Nice work but I noticed some problems.

I looked towards my fellow soldiers for help. We all were standing in a circle around the man, who was on his knees weeping like a little child. Their faces showed them unwilling to carry out the order and they would look from one person to the next as though hoping someone else would step up.
This was a bit confusing.


Suddenly, there was rain.
This is just my personal taste, but avoid the use of the word ‘suddenly’.


With a violent jerk, he ripped the watch from the corpse’s wrist. The hand hit the ground again, lifeless.
I’m not Che, but I think it is safe to say that he would not simply steal a gold watch; more likely, he would have took it and threw it into the mud or given it to some child later on in his life.

[FinnMacCool]

I’m not Che, but I think it is safe to say that he would not simply steal a gold watch; more likely, he would have took it and threw it into the mud or given it to some child later on in his life.


This was based on a true story. He wrote in his diary that he took the watch. I thought that this should be represented however what I tried to do was to show a hint of self disgust, if only a little.

Thanks for the critique, otherwise.

[FinnMacCool]

Originally posted by [email protected] 12 2006, 01:06 PM
Wow, very nice. Do you have any other pieces you have written?
Yeah. Tons. I plan on being a writer when I get out of school. I just submitted this to a writing contest so I'll tell you all how it turns out.

[Mariam]

I liked it Finn..good work!
What I like the most is the leisurely developmnt of the plot, the shift in the narrators feelings, using one simple sentence as a begining,and just as Hopscotch Anthill said about the rain I almost use the rain factor in every text I write...but in some places the flow of the narration gets weak as the one Hopscotch Anthill pointed out.
Generally it's good..Keep it up and good luck! :)

[Operation Red Flag]

I really liked this

Not exacty criticism, just wanted to let you know

[OneBrickOneVoice]

That was good. I didn't realisze it was about Che until the end. I thought you just decided to use that name. Overall that was a pretty good piece.

[Mariam]

I didn't realisze it was about Che until the end

Yah I forgot to add this point in my first post..that makes it pretty much interesting.
It's really a good technique to keep the most important piece of information.

[FinnMacCool]

Well I kept his identity secret until they end because I realize that a lot of people have many inaccurate preconceptions of Che Guevara so I thought that it might be best that they sympathize with him first before actually knowing who he is.

Thanks again everyone.