Rays of Dread

Un

The amount of people filling the town square reminded me of bees defending their honey comb on a fresh Spring day.

Only difference.

Instead of succulent honey, they loved to see a head roll in the basket. It was a new trend going around. I always wondered what happened to the body after the head was decapitated. Would it flail around until it could process it’s missing piece? Or would it drop dead like the speed of the blade falling on its target?

“Off with their heads!” resonated all of France, as if a prayer. People were shoving each other, trying to reach the blood shed. They could pass off as vampires and those eerie creatures didn’t exist.  

“Do it, Monsieur de Paris!” I glanced towards the little boy. The quality of his clothes mimicked mine.

Used to their pleas, I looked away and stared at the blade.  

I stood behind them, my eyes not leaving it. The people were rabid, starving for the next batch of criminals to have a taste of their own maker. This was the only time the rich and poor would unite. It was a guilty pleasure, no matter the class. Anyone could spot out who ate scraps or chocolate for dinner.

Curious, I stepped an inch or two. The blade called out to me, my fingers itching to glide on it.

The Royal Executioner of France raised his hands up, attempting to calm the townspeople, but they weren’t having none of it. The more time he wasted, they became restless and were beyond reason. Sweat was prominent around his face.

He was nervous, the terror in his eyes wasn’t fooling anyone. The raging townspeople  would move to the wooden stage, banging on it with their bare hands.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from getting near the commotion. I turned around, curious at the interrupter.

Andrien.

The oldest sibling between the two of us. His brown hair matted on his forehead, like a dirty rag placed on his scalp.

Amber eyes met my own, I pointed at the blade, it’s sparkle hiding.

“I know, Emma, but you mustn't be so hasty,” His head moved towards the blade, analyzing it.

I clenched my skirts, the material thin and barely providing warmth. I tucked a loose strand behind my long hair as if attempting to fix my appearance.

I heard a gasp.

“Let’s go home, we have no business here,” he quickly reached for my hand, but I backed away.

“No, Andy! I want to stay and watch it fall down,” It was my first execution and I wouldn’t miss it, again.

“We can make it to another execution, but we aren’t going to stay for this one.”

“Why?” Something was wrong, I curled my bare toes onto the dirt floor.

“Because our parents are up there.”

The sounds of a head rolling in a basket claimed the air.

 

**************

 

The day my parents were killed felt like a rush. I was too young to know anything back then. I would question Andrien everyday. I knew what happened, but I didn’t want to accept the reality for a long time.

My parents died.

All because I asked for a piece of chocolate for my birthday.

A peasant having chocolate was a needle in a haystack. It didn’t happen.