by B.G. Smith

Death penalty protesters gathered at dawn when the state unveiled its answer to Seymour Graff’s botched execution. It had taken old Seymour an hour to die last month.

The Gorge – a 250-foot chasm with blood-darkened stone – would serve as both execution chamber and permanent tomb.

Convicted killer Rodney James Harris sneered as the mechanical arm positioned him over the terminal abyss. Clink. Clank. Through bulletproof glass, a small teddy bear clutched by the victim’s mother caught his eye.

“I’d do it again,” he spat.

His screams echoed off the walls for an hour until only the wind remained.