DjEtla
Magistrate
The government sent a beautiful, black limousine to pick us up. I didn’t expect that. It was all very exciting. The driver had a nice, crisp uniform. He held a door open for us and we all climbed in the back of the car. I couldn’t help noticing his stern, silent demeanor.
It all started a few months earlier. Jamie was the one who first brought up the idea.
“A school for hangmen?” I asked her. The idea was a shock but I was intrigued.
“Yup,” she said. “They want applicants. Those who pass get a cushy lifetime government job with great pay and short working hours.”
Our friend Allison was with us at the time. She’s always brave and fearless – she scares me sometimes.
She liked the idea right away. “I’m in,” she said without waiting to hear more details.
I wasn’t so sure it was something I wanted to do. “So you mean like we’d have to hang someone?” I asked.
“Well duh,” Jamie said. “Yeah, that’s what a hangman does. I mean how hard can it be – you put a noose around someone’s neck. You pull a lever. Easy peasy!”
We were all about to graduate and needed a job. This was intriguing and when we looked into it some more we learned that the three of us could go through the training class together which sounded great – if I was going to do this I wanted to do it with my friends. In the end I agreed to join in.
We had to take a physical, and fill out some tests, and go for some interviews. They said they want people who are reasonably stable and actually not too fond of death. Those who enjoy it too much have too much attrition. So those folks usually get turned away with a brochure about the procedure to volunteer for a government hanging if that's what they want.
We had fun talking about it and trying to imagine what the job might be like.
“I wonder why they call the person a hangman?” I said. “Is that kind of sexist?”
“It's a gender-neutral term, silly,” Jamie said with a laugh. “A hangman might be a boy. A hangman might be a girl. Either way is okay. Stop being so 'woke' all the time,” she said with a smile.
Maybe she had a good point.
“Anyway,” she said. “If you want girl power what's better than meeting people and then killing them? Seriously – who has more power than that person?”
Again, I felt like she had a good argument.
I guess we all passed all the tests because awhile later we got assigned a date in the fall to start the training. The early training would be a few months, and if we passed that we could start a 5-year apprenticeship to work for our full certification. It sounded good.
They told us to pack no electronics of any kind and very few clothes – just enough for one night. I didn’t know if I could live without my phone. But hey – I figured with the money I’d be making soon I could buy a really good one.
They said right away it was critical to follow instructions exactly so we took this seriously and packed very little.
The limo ride took a couple of hours. The school was in a rural mansion way out in the countryside. In the past it must have been a big country home for a wealthy family. There were many big, elegant rooms and plenty of rooms for servants too.
It was evening when we arrived. One of the staff met us – a young woman about our age in a simple khaki uniform. She said we’d start training the next day and took us to our room.
She had a stern expression. It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk with us. It was like the limo driver – I was starting to notice a pattern.
Our room was on the third floor and small. It had a queen-sized bed, a chair, a footstool, and a dresser with a few drawers. It had a small private bathroom attached, which was nice, with a tub.
The young woman didn’t ask us if we needed anything. She didn’t tell us to have a good night. She just told us to be ready at 7:30 the next morning sharp.
With that she turned away and closed the door.
The next bit was a surprise – I noticed the door had a big, solid brass lock on it. We heard the lock *click* and we quickly figured out that she had just locked us in the room for the night. There was a window with heavy bars outside like a prison. The bathroom window was the same. It was strange but I figured it was part of the process.
Since there was just one bed in the room we realized we were supposed to share it.
Training started the next morning. The first few days and weeks were a whirlwind.
We got our black and white uniforms and were shown how to wear them properly. And we did a lot of in-processing paperwork.
We started taking regular classes, which were a lot tougher than I expected. We had to learn a lot about biology and human anatomy for a good part of the day until I felt like I was overloaded.
We learned that the person who is going to be executed is called the “client.” For some reason that seemed like a humorous term.
In the mid-afternoon we’d change into workout clothes and put in some long hours running on the outdoor track or using the treadmill machines in the school gym. We did some moderate weight lifting, stretching and a few other exercises but running was the main focus. It was exhausting. We could all feel ourselves getting more slim and strong and that was a good feeling.
The staff told us from the start we’re all in this together. If one uniform isn’t right then we all get bad marks for the day. If one person does poorly on an exam then we’ve all done poorly. It put a lot of pressure on us to work together closely to make sure we can all get an “A.”
We had a variety of teachers and coaches and they all kept the same attitude – not exactly hostile but never saying anything pleasant. They talked to us very little – usually just to give commands to tell us what to do. It was all very strange. I was glad I had my friends to talk with. We all supported each other. And it made us feel closer.
In the evening we were always locked in our room. We had few distractions – no magazines, no phones, no books other than our textbooks. We used the time to get cleaned up, study our lessons for the day, and talk.
Bedtime was probably the sweetest part of the day. Early on we all challenged each other to sleep bare as much as possible. Sometimes I wasn’t in the mood for that, especially at first. I wanted to wear some panties and maybe a t-shirt. But the others seemed to like it and I didn’t want them to think I was being unfriendly or prudish. So I didn’t say anything and tried to act positive.
When I was in the right mood then it felt really terrific and exciting to get naked and slide into bed. Better yet we liked to leave the windows open to let in the cold, crisp fall air.
When the room was chilly and I was in the right mood it felt fantastic and wonderful and amazing to wiggle out of my clothes and then snuggle up with my friends under the covers.
Jamie really seemed to enjoy this the most. For some reason she seemed to end up in the coveted middle position in the bed more than her share.
Once when we were getting into bed I asked her how she ended up in the middle position so often.
She giggled. She said, “Don't ask silly questions. Get in here and warm me up.”
Well I couldn't really argue with that attitude. I had to smile as I slipped off all my clothes and got under covers.
“Mmmm,” she purred with pleasure as I moved in close.
Sometimes we’d stay awake awhile in bed. We'd talk or do ... whatever. But I think we were usually so tired from our long day of training that sleep came easily.
There were many mysterious things about the school. For example, they never said what happens to someone who doesn’t complete the training. No one ever said, “You need to do really well or we’ll send you home.” Also, I had a sense that we were only seeing part of the overall building. God only knows what was going on in the parts we never saw.
“So,” we all wondered, “what happens to those who don’t do well?” We decided it was better not to ask – the best thing to do was focus on doing great so we wouldn’t have to find out.
By the third week we moved to a new phase of training. The other classes continued and we also got lectures on executions. A lot of it was very gruesome but we all tried to pay close attention – I thought it would be a bad idea to look shocked or squeamish.
With the new phase of training we also learned we could get a pass to the nearby town on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon once in awhile. That was great news – a little freedom from the school sounded terrific. We could do a little shopping. We could also send and receive mail from the local post office and that was a wonderful link to the outside world, even though the things we were allowed to buy were very limited. We all had plenty of money since we were getting paid but had nothing to spend it on.
I couldn’t tell how we were doing in our training. Most of the staff had a grim attitude – it made me worry we weren’t doing well. Wondering about that was stressful for all of us. But it seemed like there was nothing we could do to raise our grades other than just keep trying to do our best.
I think it was Allison who finally had a “Eureka” moment. One day it dawned on her how we could build goodwill with our instructors.
The moment she spoke up I thought, “Of course – why didn’t I think of that?”
I think Jamie had the same reaction.
On our next trip into town we bought some pins, needles, thread and a few other simple supplies. We got back to our dorm room and quickly got busy shortening the hemlines on our regulation skirts and tailoring our regulation blouses to fit more snug. It was a lot of work because we all had four sets of clothing to modify, and we wanted to do it carefully so the work would be high quality. It was all a lot of fun – we laughed and joked about that as we worked.
On Monday morning we were excited to get dressed then report for breakfast and our first class. Our hard work seemed to pay off. I noticed the staff acting a bit more kind. No one at the school was ever friendly with us. But at least they seemed a little less stern.
After that we knew what to do. We got some nice lingerie stockings, shoes with heels, and kept experimenting with shorter and shorter hemlines. As we did so the staff reactions got better and better – especially from the two women who were our primary instructors. We noticed that solid gray or black stockings seemed to get the best reaction, which seemed appropriate for someone who deals in death. Shiny black patent leather shoes also seemed to work best, the higher the heels the better.
We experimented with makeup as well – tastefully done, minimal makeup seemed to get the best reactions although some strong lipstick colors also seemed to work well too. The trial and error was fun, especially as we gradually learned how to get the best reactions.
Not only did we learn that it’s okay to look our best, we learned that there are unwritten rules at the school that we were expected to figure out if we wanted to pass.
As our training continued it didn’t slow down. It seemed to accelerate.
We had lots of lectures on the legal system. We covered traditional crimes that can get someone sentenced to death. I never realized there were so many death-penalty crimes for the military but we covered those too, like disrespect to an officer or missing movement or falling asleep during guard duty. I thought it was amazing that some soldiers complete their service without getting convicted of something. And we covered the new crop of political crimes that also carried the death penalty – like inappropriate posts to social media.
And we went over the procedures for someone who wished to volunteer for execution. It was a lot to learn.
We trained with various types of equipment like Tasers and cattle prods, and even small pistols. After a few weeks of firearms training, when we proved we could handle them safely, we were required to carry one whenever we left the school grounds for reasons that were never quite clear to me.
We worked with handcuffs of steel, leather and nylon. And we practiced the proper techniques with other materials like rope, cotton and silk. We worked with leather arm binders and even with duct tape. (It was a bit of a surprise to learn how effective duct tape could be, especially with both arms folded up behind the back with each had by the opposite elbow.) We talked about the pros and cons of tying the elbows, ankles or knees of the client. Practicing with the restraints on each other was a lot of fun – we all got a lot of laughs out of that. The leather cuffs seemed to be the most popular for recreational wear – they're reasonably comfortable yet quite secure if put on properly. Sometimes one of us would wear them for our afternoon workout sessions. Our coach didn’t seem to find that surprising – when one of us showed up for the afternoon workout wearing handcuffs behind her back she’d lower the required running speed, since it’s hard to run when restrained that way, but she wouldn’t reduce the overall distance, so it was an extra long work out. Allison wanted to experiment with wearing the cuffs at night so she had us to put them on her at bedtime a few times and made us promise not to remove them until morning. She said it was tough to get good sleep that way but the feelings were interesting.
We watched endless hours of execution videos – not just hangings but many different methods. We had to write written reviews of each video explaining the positive and negative aspects about how it was done. We had lengthy lectures on the history of executions and had to study for detailed tests on everything we learned. We learned about antique customs that we don’t do any more, like letting someone choose a last meal or letting them say some last words before they hang, or wear clothing for their execution. That part of the training could be pretty grim but we quickly realized we were expected to keep an upbeat, cheerful attitude when viewing or discussing executions.
The afternoon workouts got more intense too.
As we neared the end of our training I was feeling good – I think we all were. We felt good about our progress and our chance for graduating. It was fun each night to get locked in our room to wash up, study, talk, and get snuggled in together for the night.
As I sensed we were getting near the end of our training everything changed. We got a new instructor, Susan. She explained she’d be in charge of our final testing.
Susan was complex. I had a hard time figuring her out. She was just a few years older than we were. She was a very slim, slight girl who probably didn’t weigh 100 pounds. Her short blond hair was cute.
At first glance her uniform was similar to what we had on – a black skirt with a black leather belt, and a white blouse. But with another quick look I could see it was quite different from what we wore.
Her skirt was beautifully tailored to hug her waist and slim hips. It was short enough to allow just a slight glimpse of skin above the tops of her dark stockings. Her belt was slim and beautifully lustrous black leather – it looked expensive. The biggest difference was her blouse. It was expertly fitted to hug her body. The top button was daringly low, creating deep plunging neckline. Most of all I noticed how sheer it was. She had on a skimpy, lacy little black bra that was clearly visible through the thin white fabric. Underneath her bra I thought I could see a hint she had barbell piercings through her nipples but I could not be sure about that.
Slightly above her left breast she wore the small gold pin that indicated she was a fully vetted, fully qualified executioner. So we knew she must have completed the required five years of apprentice service already.
She didn’t have any visible jewelry except for a pair of beautiful diamond earrings that caught the light and sparkled. I had a hunch that they were a gift from a rich father or a wealthy boyfriend.
On the surface she appeared to be a slim, confident, very pretty twenty-something young woman. But when she spoke she seemed like someone older – someone who had seen too much and done too much and who was weary of the world. I could only imagine the things she had done and seen on a daily basis.
She sat down with us and told us she would help us complete the training and help decide if we pass the course.
She told us there was a room at the school set aside for hangings.
We all nodded.
“You don’t graduate until you prove you can do a hanging,” she said. “You have to prove you can do it very well. We want to see a professional, crisp, well-run event.”
“It’s okay to look good,” she said. “I know you’ve all been having some fun learning to look your best and that’s fine. You all look great.”
“But remember why you’re here,” she continued. “This is not dress-up. It’s not cosplay. We need to know you can take a life for your government when we need you do to it,” she said soberly. “Your looks are just one of your assets to help you get and maintain compliance with your clients.”
We all nodded. At that point I think we were all looking forward to proving what we could do.
“Have any of you taken a human life before?” she asked us.
All three of us shook our heads.
“Are you eager to do it?” she asked.
I had a sense we were being tested. I figured the right thing to do was nod enthusiastically, even though my real emotions were very mixed. The others nodded too. When I thought about actually executing someone I thought the huge feeling of power might be great. But at the same time I was felt worried and scared about doing it.
“Well okay,” she said. “Right now you all think you can do it. But it might not be as easy as you think.”
“Anyway,” she continued. “We’ll soon find out. We’ll let you know tomorrow which one has been selected to be the client.”
It took me a second to realize what she said. “Wait – what?” I thought to myself.
I looked at the others. Jamie seemed surprised too.
Susan looked stern. “What did you think was going to happen?” she asked. “Of course one of you has to hang. It’s how we get to see if the others can do this job.”
Finally she said, “You’d better focus very long and hard on your duties and maybe two of you can graduate. If you don’t pass you don’t get sent home – you’ll stay right here until we’re good and ready, then you’ll meet a noose of your own. So that’s a lot to think about.”
When we were locked in our room late that afternoon I felt kind of stunned.
“Good Lord,” Jamie said.
“Buck up,” Allison said. “We’re at a school for hangmen. What did you think was going to happen? It’s been obvious from the start that they’re going to make it tough for us to graduate. I’m sorry if you two are just figuring this out.”
“This is going to be hard,” I said.
“Well,” Allison said with a devious laugh, “whether it’s hard or easy I guess one of us gets to dangle soon!”
... to be continued.
It all started a few months earlier. Jamie was the one who first brought up the idea.
“A school for hangmen?” I asked her. The idea was a shock but I was intrigued.
“Yup,” she said. “They want applicants. Those who pass get a cushy lifetime government job with great pay and short working hours.”
Our friend Allison was with us at the time. She’s always brave and fearless – she scares me sometimes.
She liked the idea right away. “I’m in,” she said without waiting to hear more details.
I wasn’t so sure it was something I wanted to do. “So you mean like we’d have to hang someone?” I asked.
“Well duh,” Jamie said. “Yeah, that’s what a hangman does. I mean how hard can it be – you put a noose around someone’s neck. You pull a lever. Easy peasy!”
We were all about to graduate and needed a job. This was intriguing and when we looked into it some more we learned that the three of us could go through the training class together which sounded great – if I was going to do this I wanted to do it with my friends. In the end I agreed to join in.
We had to take a physical, and fill out some tests, and go for some interviews. They said they want people who are reasonably stable and actually not too fond of death. Those who enjoy it too much have too much attrition. So those folks usually get turned away with a brochure about the procedure to volunteer for a government hanging if that's what they want.
We had fun talking about it and trying to imagine what the job might be like.
“I wonder why they call the person a hangman?” I said. “Is that kind of sexist?”
“It's a gender-neutral term, silly,” Jamie said with a laugh. “A hangman might be a boy. A hangman might be a girl. Either way is okay. Stop being so 'woke' all the time,” she said with a smile.
Maybe she had a good point.
“Anyway,” she said. “If you want girl power what's better than meeting people and then killing them? Seriously – who has more power than that person?”
Again, I felt like she had a good argument.
I guess we all passed all the tests because awhile later we got assigned a date in the fall to start the training. The early training would be a few months, and if we passed that we could start a 5-year apprenticeship to work for our full certification. It sounded good.
They told us to pack no electronics of any kind and very few clothes – just enough for one night. I didn’t know if I could live without my phone. But hey – I figured with the money I’d be making soon I could buy a really good one.
They said right away it was critical to follow instructions exactly so we took this seriously and packed very little.
The limo ride took a couple of hours. The school was in a rural mansion way out in the countryside. In the past it must have been a big country home for a wealthy family. There were many big, elegant rooms and plenty of rooms for servants too.
It was evening when we arrived. One of the staff met us – a young woman about our age in a simple khaki uniform. She said we’d start training the next day and took us to our room.
She had a stern expression. It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk with us. It was like the limo driver – I was starting to notice a pattern.
Our room was on the third floor and small. It had a queen-sized bed, a chair, a footstool, and a dresser with a few drawers. It had a small private bathroom attached, which was nice, with a tub.
The young woman didn’t ask us if we needed anything. She didn’t tell us to have a good night. She just told us to be ready at 7:30 the next morning sharp.
With that she turned away and closed the door.
The next bit was a surprise – I noticed the door had a big, solid brass lock on it. We heard the lock *click* and we quickly figured out that she had just locked us in the room for the night. There was a window with heavy bars outside like a prison. The bathroom window was the same. It was strange but I figured it was part of the process.
Since there was just one bed in the room we realized we were supposed to share it.
Training started the next morning. The first few days and weeks were a whirlwind.
We got our black and white uniforms and were shown how to wear them properly. And we did a lot of in-processing paperwork.
We started taking regular classes, which were a lot tougher than I expected. We had to learn a lot about biology and human anatomy for a good part of the day until I felt like I was overloaded.
We learned that the person who is going to be executed is called the “client.” For some reason that seemed like a humorous term.
In the mid-afternoon we’d change into workout clothes and put in some long hours running on the outdoor track or using the treadmill machines in the school gym. We did some moderate weight lifting, stretching and a few other exercises but running was the main focus. It was exhausting. We could all feel ourselves getting more slim and strong and that was a good feeling.
The staff told us from the start we’re all in this together. If one uniform isn’t right then we all get bad marks for the day. If one person does poorly on an exam then we’ve all done poorly. It put a lot of pressure on us to work together closely to make sure we can all get an “A.”
We had a variety of teachers and coaches and they all kept the same attitude – not exactly hostile but never saying anything pleasant. They talked to us very little – usually just to give commands to tell us what to do. It was all very strange. I was glad I had my friends to talk with. We all supported each other. And it made us feel closer.
In the evening we were always locked in our room. We had few distractions – no magazines, no phones, no books other than our textbooks. We used the time to get cleaned up, study our lessons for the day, and talk.
Bedtime was probably the sweetest part of the day. Early on we all challenged each other to sleep bare as much as possible. Sometimes I wasn’t in the mood for that, especially at first. I wanted to wear some panties and maybe a t-shirt. But the others seemed to like it and I didn’t want them to think I was being unfriendly or prudish. So I didn’t say anything and tried to act positive.
When I was in the right mood then it felt really terrific and exciting to get naked and slide into bed. Better yet we liked to leave the windows open to let in the cold, crisp fall air.
When the room was chilly and I was in the right mood it felt fantastic and wonderful and amazing to wiggle out of my clothes and then snuggle up with my friends under the covers.
Jamie really seemed to enjoy this the most. For some reason she seemed to end up in the coveted middle position in the bed more than her share.
Once when we were getting into bed I asked her how she ended up in the middle position so often.
She giggled. She said, “Don't ask silly questions. Get in here and warm me up.”
Well I couldn't really argue with that attitude. I had to smile as I slipped off all my clothes and got under covers.
“Mmmm,” she purred with pleasure as I moved in close.
Sometimes we’d stay awake awhile in bed. We'd talk or do ... whatever. But I think we were usually so tired from our long day of training that sleep came easily.
There were many mysterious things about the school. For example, they never said what happens to someone who doesn’t complete the training. No one ever said, “You need to do really well or we’ll send you home.” Also, I had a sense that we were only seeing part of the overall building. God only knows what was going on in the parts we never saw.
“So,” we all wondered, “what happens to those who don’t do well?” We decided it was better not to ask – the best thing to do was focus on doing great so we wouldn’t have to find out.
By the third week we moved to a new phase of training. The other classes continued and we also got lectures on executions. A lot of it was very gruesome but we all tried to pay close attention – I thought it would be a bad idea to look shocked or squeamish.
With the new phase of training we also learned we could get a pass to the nearby town on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon once in awhile. That was great news – a little freedom from the school sounded terrific. We could do a little shopping. We could also send and receive mail from the local post office and that was a wonderful link to the outside world, even though the things we were allowed to buy were very limited. We all had plenty of money since we were getting paid but had nothing to spend it on.
I couldn’t tell how we were doing in our training. Most of the staff had a grim attitude – it made me worry we weren’t doing well. Wondering about that was stressful for all of us. But it seemed like there was nothing we could do to raise our grades other than just keep trying to do our best.
I think it was Allison who finally had a “Eureka” moment. One day it dawned on her how we could build goodwill with our instructors.
The moment she spoke up I thought, “Of course – why didn’t I think of that?”
I think Jamie had the same reaction.
On our next trip into town we bought some pins, needles, thread and a few other simple supplies. We got back to our dorm room and quickly got busy shortening the hemlines on our regulation skirts and tailoring our regulation blouses to fit more snug. It was a lot of work because we all had four sets of clothing to modify, and we wanted to do it carefully so the work would be high quality. It was all a lot of fun – we laughed and joked about that as we worked.
On Monday morning we were excited to get dressed then report for breakfast and our first class. Our hard work seemed to pay off. I noticed the staff acting a bit more kind. No one at the school was ever friendly with us. But at least they seemed a little less stern.
After that we knew what to do. We got some nice lingerie stockings, shoes with heels, and kept experimenting with shorter and shorter hemlines. As we did so the staff reactions got better and better – especially from the two women who were our primary instructors. We noticed that solid gray or black stockings seemed to get the best reaction, which seemed appropriate for someone who deals in death. Shiny black patent leather shoes also seemed to work best, the higher the heels the better.
We experimented with makeup as well – tastefully done, minimal makeup seemed to get the best reactions although some strong lipstick colors also seemed to work well too. The trial and error was fun, especially as we gradually learned how to get the best reactions.
Not only did we learn that it’s okay to look our best, we learned that there are unwritten rules at the school that we were expected to figure out if we wanted to pass.
As our training continued it didn’t slow down. It seemed to accelerate.
We had lots of lectures on the legal system. We covered traditional crimes that can get someone sentenced to death. I never realized there were so many death-penalty crimes for the military but we covered those too, like disrespect to an officer or missing movement or falling asleep during guard duty. I thought it was amazing that some soldiers complete their service without getting convicted of something. And we covered the new crop of political crimes that also carried the death penalty – like inappropriate posts to social media.
And we went over the procedures for someone who wished to volunteer for execution. It was a lot to learn.
We trained with various types of equipment like Tasers and cattle prods, and even small pistols. After a few weeks of firearms training, when we proved we could handle them safely, we were required to carry one whenever we left the school grounds for reasons that were never quite clear to me.
We worked with handcuffs of steel, leather and nylon. And we practiced the proper techniques with other materials like rope, cotton and silk. We worked with leather arm binders and even with duct tape. (It was a bit of a surprise to learn how effective duct tape could be, especially with both arms folded up behind the back with each had by the opposite elbow.) We talked about the pros and cons of tying the elbows, ankles or knees of the client. Practicing with the restraints on each other was a lot of fun – we all got a lot of laughs out of that. The leather cuffs seemed to be the most popular for recreational wear – they're reasonably comfortable yet quite secure if put on properly. Sometimes one of us would wear them for our afternoon workout sessions. Our coach didn’t seem to find that surprising – when one of us showed up for the afternoon workout wearing handcuffs behind her back she’d lower the required running speed, since it’s hard to run when restrained that way, but she wouldn’t reduce the overall distance, so it was an extra long work out. Allison wanted to experiment with wearing the cuffs at night so she had us to put them on her at bedtime a few times and made us promise not to remove them until morning. She said it was tough to get good sleep that way but the feelings were interesting.
We watched endless hours of execution videos – not just hangings but many different methods. We had to write written reviews of each video explaining the positive and negative aspects about how it was done. We had lengthy lectures on the history of executions and had to study for detailed tests on everything we learned. We learned about antique customs that we don’t do any more, like letting someone choose a last meal or letting them say some last words before they hang, or wear clothing for their execution. That part of the training could be pretty grim but we quickly realized we were expected to keep an upbeat, cheerful attitude when viewing or discussing executions.
The afternoon workouts got more intense too.
As we neared the end of our training I was feeling good – I think we all were. We felt good about our progress and our chance for graduating. It was fun each night to get locked in our room to wash up, study, talk, and get snuggled in together for the night.
As I sensed we were getting near the end of our training everything changed. We got a new instructor, Susan. She explained she’d be in charge of our final testing.
Susan was complex. I had a hard time figuring her out. She was just a few years older than we were. She was a very slim, slight girl who probably didn’t weigh 100 pounds. Her short blond hair was cute.
At first glance her uniform was similar to what we had on – a black skirt with a black leather belt, and a white blouse. But with another quick look I could see it was quite different from what we wore.
Her skirt was beautifully tailored to hug her waist and slim hips. It was short enough to allow just a slight glimpse of skin above the tops of her dark stockings. Her belt was slim and beautifully lustrous black leather – it looked expensive. The biggest difference was her blouse. It was expertly fitted to hug her body. The top button was daringly low, creating deep plunging neckline. Most of all I noticed how sheer it was. She had on a skimpy, lacy little black bra that was clearly visible through the thin white fabric. Underneath her bra I thought I could see a hint she had barbell piercings through her nipples but I could not be sure about that.
Slightly above her left breast she wore the small gold pin that indicated she was a fully vetted, fully qualified executioner. So we knew she must have completed the required five years of apprentice service already.
She didn’t have any visible jewelry except for a pair of beautiful diamond earrings that caught the light and sparkled. I had a hunch that they were a gift from a rich father or a wealthy boyfriend.
On the surface she appeared to be a slim, confident, very pretty twenty-something young woman. But when she spoke she seemed like someone older – someone who had seen too much and done too much and who was weary of the world. I could only imagine the things she had done and seen on a daily basis.
She sat down with us and told us she would help us complete the training and help decide if we pass the course.
She told us there was a room at the school set aside for hangings.
We all nodded.
“You don’t graduate until you prove you can do a hanging,” she said. “You have to prove you can do it very well. We want to see a professional, crisp, well-run event.”
“It’s okay to look good,” she said. “I know you’ve all been having some fun learning to look your best and that’s fine. You all look great.”
“But remember why you’re here,” she continued. “This is not dress-up. It’s not cosplay. We need to know you can take a life for your government when we need you do to it,” she said soberly. “Your looks are just one of your assets to help you get and maintain compliance with your clients.”
We all nodded. At that point I think we were all looking forward to proving what we could do.
“Have any of you taken a human life before?” she asked us.
All three of us shook our heads.
“Are you eager to do it?” she asked.
I had a sense we were being tested. I figured the right thing to do was nod enthusiastically, even though my real emotions were very mixed. The others nodded too. When I thought about actually executing someone I thought the huge feeling of power might be great. But at the same time I was felt worried and scared about doing it.
“Well okay,” she said. “Right now you all think you can do it. But it might not be as easy as you think.”
“Anyway,” she continued. “We’ll soon find out. We’ll let you know tomorrow which one has been selected to be the client.”
It took me a second to realize what she said. “Wait – what?” I thought to myself.
I looked at the others. Jamie seemed surprised too.
Susan looked stern. “What did you think was going to happen?” she asked. “Of course one of you has to hang. It’s how we get to see if the others can do this job.”
Finally she said, “You’d better focus very long and hard on your duties and maybe two of you can graduate. If you don’t pass you don’t get sent home – you’ll stay right here until we’re good and ready, then you’ll meet a noose of your own. So that’s a lot to think about.”
When we were locked in our room late that afternoon I felt kind of stunned.
“Good Lord,” Jamie said.
“Buck up,” Allison said. “We’re at a school for hangmen. What did you think was going to happen? It’s been obvious from the start that they’re going to make it tough for us to graduate. I’m sorry if you two are just figuring this out.”
“This is going to be hard,” I said.
“Well,” Allison said with a devious laugh, “whether it’s hard or easy I guess one of us gets to dangle soon!”
... to be continued.
Well written!