NOTE to reader(s): this is unedited so STFU about all my
errors.Okay, just enjoy it… chill. Read! Zach walked with his head
held high, jaw straight, shoulders squared. This was going to be
difficult. He was walking to his death and this time he wasn't sure
he'd find a way out. Zach was going to be hung for his thievery. In
all his life he had never been caught picking a pocket, that's why
he had his title. He was known to all as slick fingers, people
mostly called him slick. They were lead in groups of five, each on
chained to the next. "Ay, old slick is getting' what 'e diserves."
A voice said, he turned and saw the people cheer and clap in
agreement. "Ay, yull be next, bloke." He retorted in his snide
cockney accent. The girl in front of him looked back, her head was
lowered. Maybe you can save 'er. Duncha think you can? Sh'up. He
told himself. The were all brought onto the large wooden platform,
nooses were secured to their necks and their chains taken off. The
girl ended up standing next to him. "Ay, miss, wuts yer name?" He
asked quietly. She didn't look at him or offer an answer to his
question. "Bloody… Well, I 'pose yer name dun matter ta me. But I
wanna 'elp ya. 'right?" He put a hand on the nape of her neck, he
smiled inwardly when her skin became goose flesh under his hand.
Well bloke, ya still got yer charms. Gi'ls hatecha. Dun want ol'
slick fingers touching them. Bloody 'ell yer a pervert, ya know
that? He began to work at the knot, unslipping it painfully slowly.
The crowd watching the hanging laughed. "What's this? Slick'll be
fondling girls 'till the day he dies." The laughed, " I'll get it
w'ere I can." He grinned. He finally got the knot loose, it would
slip right off when the trap floor beneath them opened. "Can a
swim?" He asked, leaning conspiratorially close. "No," "By God, she
speaks!" he was so glad to hear he speak he didn't notice what she
said. The person operating the lever for the floor was yelling to
the crowd. Slick looked up as the man pulled the lever. "Shit…" He
grabbed for the sharp knife he carried in a sheath on his wrist. He
couldn't breath, he heard himself making loud gagging noises. The
girl fell, she screamed but her rope opened, she splashed into the
water. He brought the knife up to his neck. He saw the withering
feet of the man in front of him kick in frustration as he slowly
suffocated. Ya dun want that to happen, bloke. Better hurry. He cut
upward, the rope fraying and letting him go. He was freefalling. It
was a lucky thing the held the hangings over the pier, they figured
if the ropes snapped they would drown and be carried away with the
current. He as just thinking to hold his breath as he went under,
the waves were strong, forcing him down. He saw her, floating
limply nearby. He swam to her and tried to break the surface, her
clothes were water-logged, he couldn't do it. He cut her skirt and
blouse to shreads and finally got to the top. He held her head
above the foaming water with one hand. Jeeze ya moron, she ain't
even breathin' no more. Ya went and killed her. He saw the small
sailing boar of his friend, they were scouting the water for him.
"Ove' 'ere ya knuckle heads! Ya late' that usual." They came to him
and helped him in, along with the girl. "I thought you couldn't
afford a p'ostitute." He said, "Shut ya face, mich." "Or, are the
hangings nude now?" 'She ain't…" He looked at her, coughing weakly,
her eyes were closed as she gripped the coarse wood railing. She
was a pale naked form. "That was my fault. Why ya late" (note from
author, bsdies these words that I'm currently typing. Wat is above
amounted to 666 words, interesting, eh?) "There's something about
seeing you all wet like a drown rat that makes it worth waiting.
Besides, yer cuter when yer mad." "Hearin' t'at from ya should make
a lad nervous, Mitch." Slick said. "Ay, I wonder if she's pure."
"That's really none of our business." "C'mon ya telling me you
saved her from her imminent doom because you're all moral now? Ya
0gone soft, Slick. Quit thieving if yer gonna insult us." "I ain't
gone soft." He growled. "Then why duncha… ya know, use her?"
"You're sick Mitch. She's unconscious and…. What, half my age? Ya
kiddin' me?" "Ay, then let a real man show ya how." Mitch
approached her, his hand moving to the slight swell of her breast.
"What're ya doin'? "I'm havin' a lil fun." He pulled her up into a
sitting position and stroked her hair. "Mitch…" Slick's voice was
low and calm as always but it had a sharp warning edge to it. Mitch
wasn't listening; he was too caught up in his own fantasy. "Mmmm."
Mitch groaned deeply. The girl's head lulled from side to side with
the gentle rock of the boat. He had slipped his hand between her
legs. Slick stood and was almost instantly beside Mitch. He tore at
Mitch's hair, and offered his neck to his knife. A fat red bead of
blood stood out on Mitch's neck. "Getcha fuckin' 'ands offa 'er. Ya
mangy cur, I'll kill ya." The lusted flush on Mitch's face was
replaced by pale fear. "Okay." He completely released her.
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