He glanced at the chair on the way from the prison canteen to his cell. He saw it three times a day but it still sent a shiver down his spine.
The other inmates said it was possessed by the many souls it had taken. He didn’t believe in an afterlife. The idea of a god repulsed him. No god would allow men like him to exist in this world.
An envelope lay on his bed. As he read the letter, a smile slowly formed. His final appeal had been rejected. Well, he muttered, time to meet Old Sparky at last.