I promised the different point of view... Morgan's view of what happens to her...
A different point of view…
Morgan McPherson was arrested for trespassing, sunbathing naked, smoking, and drinking on the private beach of the high cleric. She is to face trial for her crimes…
I am stripped of my clothing and an older gentleman prepares me for my trial. The preparation is simple. An iron collar is locked around my neck, shackles are fastened around my ankles, and my wrists are cuffed together. Heavy chains join them together.
“Don’t I get to talk to a lawyer” I ask.
“Not in this court, Miss McPherson. You are pretty much guilty of what you have been charged” he explains. “If I were you I would plead guilty of all charges and beg the mercy of the court. With a little luck you will get off with a large fine and a generous donation to the cleric’s church.”
“And if I am not lucky” I ask as he locks the handcuffs.
“Pray that you are lucky” he sighs. “There, you are all set for court!”
“But I am naked” I protest.
“You are wearing what you will in court. Remember, be humble, Miss McPherson.”
Be humble? Naked and in chains in court? I’ve never been in a courtroom before. My attorneys always take care of everything. This ‘court’ is beyond my imagination! First I am brought in naked except for the irons and chains I wear. The judge- and I guess the sole jury member- slouches in some kind of a throne. He wears a cowboy hat with Viking horns sticking out of the sides. Standing by him is a musclebound freak who is introduced as Prosecutor Jollyrei. Seated next to the throne is a young woman wearing less than I but at least she is not bound in chains. They call her Kathrine. I’ve no idea what does besides look good.
The judge hacks and clears his throat before addressing me. Sternly he says “Morgan McPherson, you have been charged with trespassing, lewd disrobing, and forbidden smoking and drinking on the high cleric’s estate. How do you plead?”
I remember the words of the man who placed me in these irons and humbly say “It was my error. I thought I was on the public beach. Had I known where I was I would have never behaved as I did. I beg the court’s mercy.”
Jollyrei seems unconvinced noting “McPherson, you walked past a sign that noted you were entering private land and yet you ignored it.”
“Sir, I remember seeing the sign but I neither speak nor read the language it was written in” I reply.
The judge sighs and says “I am tempted to sentence you to a year in the dungeon to perform as a sex slave to the guards.”
A shiver runs through me but then Jollyrei says “The high cleric would be less than pleased to know you offered such kindness to this foreign whore. I recommend she is taken to square and hanged by her neck as the wonton wench deserves!”
“She would look fantastic thrashing from her noose as she slowly strangles” Kathrine notes with a raised eyebrow.
“WHAT” I cry out. “You can’t hang me for a mistake of where I was!”
“Miss Morgan McPherson, for your immorality and abuse of the respect for the high cleric, I find you guilty and sentence you to be taken to the square next market day where you will be hanged by your neck until you are dead. Your body will remain displayed for the rest of the day. You have no right to protest” the judge says in a cold harsh voice.
I am hustled away and locked in a cell to await my execution. I am constantly in irons and chains or my wrists are cuffed behind her back. This is done not to punish me but to insure I cannot hurt or kill myself before I am hanged in the market square. I am sure this is horrible joke, but I am not amused by it.
Over the following days I have several visitors that I have never met before and would not have minded never meeting at all. The first is a man named ‘Spike’ Sharp from the Crux Chronicle, a publication I have never heard of. He photographs me then interviews me. The guards have warned me to cooperate or my last days could be hell before I am hanged.
He questions what I feels that I, a privileged wealthy woman, will soon be brought to the gallows and be hanged to death before a crowd of commoners.
I defiantly say “I’m not going to hang. My friends will get me out of this sick joke. Do you really think they are going to hang me before a crowd of peasants?”
‘Spike’ takes a picture of me with my legs spread and breasts exposed.
In a cold voice Sharp says “You are holding onto a false hope. I don’t know of anyone who has had their execution commuted. I’ll be there when you are hanged. I can’t wait to your tits shaking and bouncing and your legs kicking while you strangle in the noose.”
“If they do hang me when is this ‘market day’ I ask.
“You have three days alive. Then it is to the gallows for you” he says as turns to leave.
‘What an asshole’ I think as ‘Spike’ Sharp walks away.
My last visitor shows up several days later. The day before I am to be sentenced to be hanged I is brought to the visitor’s cell. Except for the irons locking my wrists and the shackles I am naked.
Outside the cell a woman in a black dress looks me over with a smirk on her face and says “Look at you! You don’t look like a jetsetting rich woman. How do you feel about being hanged tomorrow?”
“I am not going to hang! My lawyers will get me out of this” I hiss. “They won’t hang me!”
“That’s optimistic, Morgan. About the only place you are less likely to be saved would be in Cruxtonia” the woman replies.
“Who the hell are you to say that” I growl.
“I am Professor Moore from the University of the Virgin Martyr. I am here as an official witness to your hanging. I’ve never seen a ‘woman of privilege’ hanged” Barbara Moore replies.
“They won’t hang me! They don’t hang people like me” I say. I hope she doesn’t notice the quiver in my voice.
“Morgan, you may have lived a luxurious life but you hang like any other woman with the noose slowly closing around your neck until you choke to death. You will not look a damn bit different than any other woman hanged” Barbara says.
“They can’t do this to me” I insist.
“They can and they will” Barbara assures me. “I’ll be in the front row. Look for me.”
I feel panic knot in my gut…
-Morgan McPherson
A different point of view…
Morgan McPherson was arrested for trespassing, sunbathing naked, smoking, and drinking on the private beach of the high cleric. She is to face trial for her crimes…
I am stripped of my clothing and an older gentleman prepares me for my trial. The preparation is simple. An iron collar is locked around my neck, shackles are fastened around my ankles, and my wrists are cuffed together. Heavy chains join them together.
“Don’t I get to talk to a lawyer” I ask.
“Not in this court, Miss McPherson. You are pretty much guilty of what you have been charged” he explains. “If I were you I would plead guilty of all charges and beg the mercy of the court. With a little luck you will get off with a large fine and a generous donation to the cleric’s church.”
“And if I am not lucky” I ask as he locks the handcuffs.
“Pray that you are lucky” he sighs. “There, you are all set for court!”
“But I am naked” I protest.
“You are wearing what you will in court. Remember, be humble, Miss McPherson.”
Be humble? Naked and in chains in court? I’ve never been in a courtroom before. My attorneys always take care of everything. This ‘court’ is beyond my imagination! First I am brought in naked except for the irons and chains I wear. The judge- and I guess the sole jury member- slouches in some kind of a throne. He wears a cowboy hat with Viking horns sticking out of the sides. Standing by him is a musclebound freak who is introduced as Prosecutor Jollyrei. Seated next to the throne is a young woman wearing less than I but at least she is not bound in chains. They call her Kathrine. I’ve no idea what does besides look good.
The judge hacks and clears his throat before addressing me. Sternly he says “Morgan McPherson, you have been charged with trespassing, lewd disrobing, and forbidden smoking and drinking on the high cleric’s estate. How do you plead?”
I remember the words of the man who placed me in these irons and humbly say “It was my error. I thought I was on the public beach. Had I known where I was I would have never behaved as I did. I beg the court’s mercy.”
Jollyrei seems unconvinced noting “McPherson, you walked past a sign that noted you were entering private land and yet you ignored it.”
“Sir, I remember seeing the sign but I neither speak nor read the language it was written in” I reply.
The judge sighs and says “I am tempted to sentence you to a year in the dungeon to perform as a sex slave to the guards.”
A shiver runs through me but then Jollyrei says “The high cleric would be less than pleased to know you offered such kindness to this foreign whore. I recommend she is taken to square and hanged by her neck as the wonton wench deserves!”
“She would look fantastic thrashing from her noose as she slowly strangles” Kathrine notes with a raised eyebrow.
“WHAT” I cry out. “You can’t hang me for a mistake of where I was!”
“Miss Morgan McPherson, for your immorality and abuse of the respect for the high cleric, I find you guilty and sentence you to be taken to the square next market day where you will be hanged by your neck until you are dead. Your body will remain displayed for the rest of the day. You have no right to protest” the judge says in a cold harsh voice.
I am hustled away and locked in a cell to await my execution. I am constantly in irons and chains or my wrists are cuffed behind her back. This is done not to punish me but to insure I cannot hurt or kill myself before I am hanged in the market square. I am sure this is horrible joke, but I am not amused by it.
Over the following days I have several visitors that I have never met before and would not have minded never meeting at all. The first is a man named ‘Spike’ Sharp from the Crux Chronicle, a publication I have never heard of. He photographs me then interviews me. The guards have warned me to cooperate or my last days could be hell before I am hanged.
He questions what I feels that I, a privileged wealthy woman, will soon be brought to the gallows and be hanged to death before a crowd of commoners.
I defiantly say “I’m not going to hang. My friends will get me out of this sick joke. Do you really think they are going to hang me before a crowd of peasants?”
‘Spike’ takes a picture of me with my legs spread and breasts exposed.
In a cold voice Sharp says “You are holding onto a false hope. I don’t know of anyone who has had their execution commuted. I’ll be there when you are hanged. I can’t wait to your tits shaking and bouncing and your legs kicking while you strangle in the noose.”
“If they do hang me when is this ‘market day’ I ask.
“You have three days alive. Then it is to the gallows for you” he says as turns to leave.
‘What an asshole’ I think as ‘Spike’ Sharp walks away.
My last visitor shows up several days later. The day before I am to be sentenced to be hanged I is brought to the visitor’s cell. Except for the irons locking my wrists and the shackles I am naked.
Outside the cell a woman in a black dress looks me over with a smirk on her face and says “Look at you! You don’t look like a jetsetting rich woman. How do you feel about being hanged tomorrow?”
“I am not going to hang! My lawyers will get me out of this” I hiss. “They won’t hang me!”
“That’s optimistic, Morgan. About the only place you are less likely to be saved would be in Cruxtonia” the woman replies.
“Who the hell are you to say that” I growl.
“I am Professor Moore from the University of the Virgin Martyr. I am here as an official witness to your hanging. I’ve never seen a ‘woman of privilege’ hanged” Barbara Moore replies.
“They won’t hang me! They don’t hang people like me” I say. I hope she doesn’t notice the quiver in my voice.
“Morgan, you may have lived a luxurious life but you hang like any other woman with the noose slowly closing around your neck until you choke to death. You will not look a damn bit different than any other woman hanged” Barbara says.
“They can’t do this to me” I insist.
“They can and they will” Barbara assures me. “I’ll be in the front row. Look for me.”
I feel panic knot in my gut…
-Morgan McPherson
