Three Wasted Crosses At The Prison For The Criminally Insane

"Shiiit!"

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Shit, oh, shit, oh, shit!"

Over and over, day after day, this was all that was heard from the three prisoners tied to the crosses at the St. Augustine prison for the criminally insane.

Judas cursed. Not a soul on the planet - including himself - had an ounce of trust left in him. His life could not be salvaged. To breathe was to die alive. The only silver lining of his existence was to serve as a warning to others. Without trust, what could he have? No love, no friends, no family. Just a vast aching emptiness from which he could never escape having been stripped of all his deceit. He was an alien to his own species, outcast to even himself, reliving the moment of betrayal over and over, his time in the sun done in the name of acceptance.

Margo the murderess also could not believe what she'd done. When her mother was run over by a drunk driver she swore vengeance - against life. She killed first the one then the other of the driver's two children. The driver had refused to show up in court so she served as her own angel of justice. The world and the universe had let her down and she just couldn't let that slide. She was owed. But after collecting her debt she found out the alleged driver was covering for someone else. She'd twice over committed the crime which she sought to revenge. Her injustices had been done in the name of justice.

Linnon was nothing without having tried. He did nothing, he said nothing, he loved nothing. He had nothing to offer, so why try? He was not sentenced to the prison, he came of his own accord, but came to belong by virtue of his nurtured insanity. As he stayed on the cross it gradually dawned on him he did have something to offer, that he'd come for no reason, that his tragedies were needless and self-induced. He sharply contradicted anyone who said he had something to offer, though, as that made his choice of the cross unbearable. He foolishness done in the name of not being a fool.

So the three wailed in perpetual torment, hoping against hope for redemption. Judas had himself nailed just as Jesus had been thinking that would help atone for his deed. But it made no difference whatsoever and could never make a difference.

Margo was tightly bound to keep her from committing more murders but surrounded with pictures of her victims whom she'd hope to deny ever existed in her vain pursuit of finding a sliver of rationale for their murders. The blood stains on her hands were for life.

Linnon dare not untie himself even though he could have anytime. What would he happen if he got off now and proved himself worthy to the world? He'd be mocked for his many, many years he'd spent uselessly and foolishly on the cross. If he stayed, he could complete his deterioration and none would be the wiser.

Like biting snakes, lies of each of the three kept them in constant agony, having given up on the truth as savior. By trying to keep their lives they had lost them.