We walked upon the river banks. Muddy, soft, from water that had crested before. Weeds high. Dead catfish lay upon earth. Water moccasins slither. A frog croaks.

I carry a rope in one hand, a pistol in the other. He follows behind, tripping over his bare feet, hands in shackles, clothes torn, muttering the words, I’m sorry. I want do it again.

He was a member of my flock. Another sinner like the rest of them. Some sins can’t be forgiven. They just float downstream with the one that is evil. He trips and falls.

Get up, I say. Get on up. I tug on the rope a little tighter. The noose chokes him till he turns blue. Are you sorry? Truly sorry for your sin? I ask. He nods and shakes. What are you sorry for? He cries. I pull tighter. Say it.

I’m sorry for adultery with your wife. His head lowers. But, I’ll pay for those sins, he states. Just forgive her, he pleads.

Fair enough. And with that, the gun was placed to his head. Sweating, mumbling, crying to me to please forgive him. I stand cold. Stiff hand. And shoot. One man. One bullet.

I untie him and send his body down river and his soul to God. May he have mercy.