The dull thud and the clanging shut of the iron framed doors never fails to send a shiver down the spine of the condemned.
As the prisoner’s eyes start to adjust to the dim light of the solitary candle, he can see the small cot in the corner of the room, a table and chair and the iron bars of the window high above the dark, damp wall. He is given some paper and a pencil, a bible, and a little cake of soap.
He should not be there long as he knows the date and the time of his execution and all he must do is pray and hope the Executive will review his situation and change the death sentence to a term in prison.
This is very unlikely but there is always hope.