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The Guillotine And My Death

Short story By: UnknownWolfGirl
Other



A man who is sentenced to death.


Submitted:Oct 22, 2011    Reads: 130    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   


Dawn broke. I felt waves of hopelessness crash over me as I remembered what day it was. April 17th. The day of my death. My vile hay bed lay crumpled and filled with rat droppings as I threw my head in my hands.

Crumpled and tear-stained, a letter from my sweetheart Mary lay beside me. I had read it more than 100 times the night before, my death day looming. I heard heavy, clanging footsteps sound down the jail hallway, keys jingling together as the Guard walked. He reached my cell.

"Time to die, murderer." He muttered digustingly under his breath. I simply growled and lifted myself of the floor before he could haul me up like a misbehaving dog. Without letting me eat or wash, or even wake up properly, he grabbed hold of my arms and tied them behind me. He dragged me down the hall. I was the first man to be executed today. The king had a tight schedule.

As I walked down the hallway, I saw men and women lash out at me, mad with despair. I recognised dirty beggars and nasty lords, unfaithful ladies and vile murderes, like myself. I haven't killed though, no, no, NO! I didn't kill anyone, it wasn't me! I didn't do it! Those women, men, children...I didn't kill them. There bodies weren't disformed, I hadn't mutilated them, it was Billy. He...he made me. No, he did it. He had the knife, it was dark, and we needed money, I didn't want to. He forced the knife into my hands, he made me, so it wasn't me. The police officers wouldn't listen, there wasn't blood on my hands, and I didn't kill those innocent, easy people!

I shook violently as we reached the hug wooden gates. The rope binding my wrists was burning and I could feel blood drip warmly into my curled palms. My hair matted and messy got torn by the wind as the Guard tugged open the heavy door.

The crowd let out a tremendous scream, like an animal waiting to catch it's prey. They bawled and cheered rauciously as I stepped my way up the short pathto the monster named The Guillotine. They threw rotten apples and vegetables and stinking tomatoes at me. My face was covered in muck, and I couldn't so anything about it. My dignity was in tatters.

I was shaken with fear as the Guard pushed me up the wooden steps, and I tumbled. My forehead hit the step in fron of me as I collapsed to the ground. A young boy standing near laughed like his father, and threw his dogs waste at me. It flew all over me, and I felt it slime drip down my back. The guard shoved the boy, shouting above the noise that he wasn't allowed to interfere with the prisoner.

Turning away from the boy and to me, the Guard harshly grabbed me from the floor and pushed me up the remaining steps. I stumbled onto the stage and up to the Guillotine. The man with the balck hood conceleaning face followed me as I half walked/half tripped. A priest standing near by simply stated the lords prayer and blessed me, then stepped away, done with the dead. I was destined for hell anyway.

The hooded man asked,

"Anything you would like to say?"

I quickly muttered a small prayer to myself, then turning round and swallowing, my face burning despite myself, I shouted:

"Mary!"

I saw her beautiful face pop up up through the many heads, the only person in the world who actually still loved me.

"I love you, my sweetheart!"

Her face was streaked with tears, and all she could do was smile sadly and shakily through them, and mouthe at me,

'I will always love you.'

Holding back my tears, I stepped back to the Guillotine. The hooded man glared at me, before shoving my neck down on the wooden block and holding the rope that would let the huge blade chop down on my feeble neck.

The last thing I heard was Mary's strangled scream.

Blackness.





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