Part 1
I’ve been perched on a wobbly bench with my hand bound behind my back and a thick, itchy noose around my neck. My only option is not one I want to take. From a distance a bell begins to toll. Tree calls up and says “When the bell stops, your hanging begins.”
I jerk my head towards him and yell “You can’t me!”
But the bell falls silent and he kicks the stool from beneath my feet!
I am hanged! The noose is less than comfortable as my neck is meant only to hold my head up, not have the weight of my body hanging from it. Overall, this hanging hurts, but I can still breathe. I hang with my feet searching for footing they can’t find.
For a while, I hang pretty limp from the noose around my neck. I guess that doesn’t please the crowd too much. My ears are ringing already and I can’t make out what is being yelled at me, but there’s twice the women’s voices hollering lewd comments than there are men.
But there is new problem. The noose is tightening around my throat! I can still gasp for breaths of air but it is becoming work. My legs start to thrash trying to find ground they can’t reach.
I have consciousness about me other than the noose closing around my neck, my feet still search for footing they don’t find, and the fucking rope is shredding my wrists but its hold is firm!
The crowd might call it my last dance, but it is pure panic as I try to escape the closing noose.
It is a cruel fact that my body wants to escape being hanged by the rope.
My legs flay wildly beneath me while my hands struggle to escape the rope binding them.
What are they doing? I think they are cheering!
You bastards, I am dying up here!
-Deedra
I’ve been perched on a wobbly bench with my hand bound behind my back and a thick, itchy noose around my neck. My only option is not one I want to take. From a distance a bell begins to toll. Tree calls up and says “When the bell stops, your hanging begins.”
I jerk my head towards him and yell “You can’t me!”
But the bell falls silent and he kicks the stool from beneath my feet!
I am hanged! The noose is less than comfortable as my neck is meant only to hold my head up, not have the weight of my body hanging from it. Overall, this hanging hurts, but I can still breathe. I hang with my feet searching for footing they can’t find.
For a while, I hang pretty limp from the noose around my neck. I guess that doesn’t please the crowd too much. My ears are ringing already and I can’t make out what is being yelled at me, but there’s twice the women’s voices hollering lewd comments than there are men.
But there is new problem. The noose is tightening around my throat! I can still gasp for breaths of air but it is becoming work. My legs start to thrash trying to find ground they can’t reach.
I have consciousness about me other than the noose closing around my neck, my feet still search for footing they don’t find, and the fucking rope is shredding my wrists but its hold is firm!
The crowd might call it my last dance, but it is pure panic as I try to escape the closing noose.
It is a cruel fact that my body wants to escape being hanged by the rope.
My legs flay wildly beneath me while my hands struggle to escape the rope binding them.
What are they doing? I think they are cheering!
You bastards, I am dying up here!
-Deedra
