The Execution
I've posted this before but this one is an edited version. Not much differences though.
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The Execution
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The Cardinal
I put into place the small red item of clothing that covers a small part of my bald head. My shiny black carriage pulls to a halt and my coachman opens the door for me.
I step down with my long red robe flowing freely, like the banner of the Church I represent. I have a large smile, waving, greeting, and blessing the people that are pushing their way up the front just to see me. I majestically climb the steps of a large platform that has a few seats.
Each special seat is for a very special person, a chosen person. Powerful, rich, or simply those of high rank. I am one of those persons that have a seat in that platform. My seat is at the center.
From that bird’s view on where I am seated, I see hundreds of people cramped up in this small square or plaza. They are all surrounding the center stage. It’s another platform of the same level as the platform I am seated at, except that it was much smaller.
To consider the whole point of all these, it seems ironic how I, representing a Church that offers salvation, bless this gathering and declare it a ‘lawful slaying’.
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Prisoner
The last thing that I am to do in my life is to entertain.
They say that I had violated women and I had exploited their feminism but in my defense, women were created to service our manhood, weren’t they? But none of that matters now.
None of the things that happened before matters, what matters is what I am doing at the moment.
With my dirty torn clothes, the putrid smell of the disgusting prison cell that stuck to my skin, and the chains that tethered both my hands to each other, as well as my feet, I walk to the center stage.
The people diverge to make a path just for me. To think that they made a path when they were already cramped up in this small plaza with their bodies touching each other’s bodies, unable to move because of crowdedness, like sardines in a can, was very flattering.
I walk towards the high-rise platform. The large man that was already standing at the platform before I even arrived hit my knees such that I was forced to kneel down. He takes both my hands, removes the chains only to be replaced by another that attached me to the wooden floor.
The large man whom I joined in the center stage raises both his hands that are holding a large axe.
Yes, I am about to provide entertainment.
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Executioner
This is the… sorry, I don’t really know whether this man is the twentieth or whatever this month I’m executing. Exaggeration, but sometimes it feels that way.
At first it was a bit awkward to bring down an axe on a man’s neck.
Although, it wasn’t hard, just awkward. It wasn’t hard for I got to practice on objects. Plus, I have a good aim.
It was just awkward for I’m not really a theatre person to present something to hundreds of people. Then, add the fact that these hundreds of people are looking at me.
It’s as if the organs in my stomach are turning to goo.
Anyways, so, without further ado, he kneels down before everyone in the square and I take my place beside him raising my axe to great heights feeling like a hero.
He looks at me.
I hate it when they do that. They look at you; stare at your eyes with those teary eyes of theirs. What are they trying to say, this is wrong? First of all, it’s not as if I’m detaching the heads of angelic people. They’re here before me because they don’t deserve to enjoy the remaining time left of their lives after the horrid things they did.
If he dares look at me like the others do, seriously, this whole thing is going to be bloody and messy.
But he didn’t. Instead, he looks at me and beams, as if to greet me a ‘good day’.
For a fraction of a second, I didn’t want to bring the axe down, but I had to.
“Travel well.” I say kindly to him. His smile becomes larger.
I hear the crunch of the bones that connected his skull to his torso. Then, I hear the thump of the head hitting the ground. I hear the squirting of blood from the neck that once had a head. I see the red fluid spurting in different directions. I see the flesh, or shall I say fats, that surrounded his neck bone, which was also visible.
I see the head roll slowly leaving a trail of blood. His mouth a bit open, hinting some choking. The eyes are widely opened, pupil dilated, still looking at me.
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The Execution
-
The Cardinal
I put into place the small red item of clothing that covers a small part of my bald head. My shiny black carriage pulls to a halt and my coachman opens the door for me.
I step down with my long red robe flowing freely, like the banner of the Church I represent. I have a large smile, waving, greeting, and blessing the people that are pushing their way up the front just to see me. I majestically climb the steps of a large platform that has a few seats.
Each special seat is for a very special person, a chosen person. Powerful, rich, or simply those of high rank. I am one of those persons that have a seat in that platform. My seat is at the center.
From that bird’s view on where I am seated, I see hundreds of people cramped up in this small square or plaza. They are all surrounding the center stage. It’s another platform of the same level as the platform I am seated at, except that it was much smaller.
To consider the whole point of all these, it seems ironic how I, representing a Church that offers salvation, bless this gathering and declare it a ‘lawful slaying’.
-
Prisoner
The last thing that I am to do in my life is to entertain.
They say that I had violated women and I had exploited their feminism but in my defense, women were created to service our manhood, weren’t they? But none of that matters now.
None of the things that happened before matters, what matters is what I am doing at the moment.
With my dirty torn clothes, the putrid smell of the disgusting prison cell that stuck to my skin, and the chains that tethered both my hands to each other, as well as my feet, I walk to the center stage.
The people diverge to make a path just for me. To think that they made a path when they were already cramped up in this small plaza with their bodies touching each other’s bodies, unable to move because of crowdedness, like sardines in a can, was very flattering.
I walk towards the high-rise platform. The large man that was already standing at the platform before I even arrived hit my knees such that I was forced to kneel down. He takes both my hands, removes the chains only to be replaced by another that attached me to the wooden floor.
The large man whom I joined in the center stage raises both his hands that are holding a large axe.
Yes, I am about to provide entertainment.
-
Executioner
This is the… sorry, I don’t really know whether this man is the twentieth or whatever this month I’m executing. Exaggeration, but sometimes it feels that way.
At first it was a bit awkward to bring down an axe on a man’s neck.
Although, it wasn’t hard, just awkward. It wasn’t hard for I got to practice on objects. Plus, I have a good aim.
It was just awkward for I’m not really a theatre person to present something to hundreds of people. Then, add the fact that these hundreds of people are looking at me.
It’s as if the organs in my stomach are turning to goo.
Anyways, so, without further ado, he kneels down before everyone in the square and I take my place beside him raising my axe to great heights feeling like a hero.
He looks at me.
I hate it when they do that. They look at you; stare at your eyes with those teary eyes of theirs. What are they trying to say, this is wrong? First of all, it’s not as if I’m detaching the heads of angelic people. They’re here before me because they don’t deserve to enjoy the remaining time left of their lives after the horrid things they did.
If he dares look at me like the others do, seriously, this whole thing is going to be bloody and messy.
But he didn’t. Instead, he looks at me and beams, as if to greet me a ‘good day’.
For a fraction of a second, I didn’t want to bring the axe down, but I had to.
“Travel well.” I say kindly to him. His smile becomes larger.
I hear the crunch of the bones that connected his skull to his torso. Then, I hear the thump of the head hitting the ground. I hear the squirting of blood from the neck that once had a head. I see the red fluid spurting in different directions. I see the flesh, or shall I say fats, that surrounded his neck bone, which was also visible.
I see the head roll slowly leaving a trail of blood. His mouth a bit open, hinting some choking. The eyes are widely opened, pupil dilated, still looking at me.
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