Black-Haired Beauty

We were in love … so in love. It was summertime, it was the beginning of our lives—it was the end of our lives. She was a black-haired beauty, loving me as no one has ever loved me. The time spent with her was so sweet. Her soul, her smile, her everything … I loved her so much. So it’s funny how things worked out.

Her father did not approve of me; he thought me a loser … not good enough for his daughter. When I came a-calling, he would show his disapproval by addressing me as the bug he thought I was. Never a civil word did I get from him.

But she and I were in love. The old man didn’t matter … nothing mattered. We had each other.

We decided to run away … we were young and so in love.

I went to her house that night … that horrible night. She was to be outside waiting for me, but she wasn’t. Instead, her father met me and he had a gun in his hand.

I loved his daughter, and because of that, he pointed the gun at me and squeezed the trigger.

The gun misfired. Without thinking, I took it from him. Without thinking, I turned it and pointed it at him. Without thinking, I killed him. The weapon did not misfire for me. Although I wish it had.

Now I  await my execution. I sit in a prison cell and every day I think of my black-haired beauty. And what might have been.

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