Blood Tears (waglington story)

There was nothing but darkness around him, the scratch of the blindfold on his face constant and near painful. Every inch of skin felt rubbed raw. Footsteps echoed off the walls. Someone shoved him, and he stumbled forward. The echoing fell away- now only the cries of people could be hear, they were calling, chanting in words he couldn't understand.

If he could move, he'd drop a star on them.

But the chains around his wrists, binding his arms to his side, binding his ankles, making it hard to walk, and impossible to run. The air around him was hot and dry, the smell of sulfur making him cringe. He was shoved again, onto a wooden platform that wobbled under his feet. Something was slipped around his neck. The crowd silenced. Under him, the platform fell away. A moment of weightlessness. Then nothing. Not even the feeling of choking, even as the rope dug into his neck.

Nothing but darkness. Silence.

Was this his end?