J
Juan1234
Guest
All - I'm a little reluctant to start this, because the idea deserves to be long, and I have a horrible track record with long stories. And I haven't finished my Aleko story, which isn't even going to be long. But here goes. I'll probably make this one much shorter than it should be in the hope of being able to finish it, and I still intend to finish Aleko as well. If I end up falling short of these good intentions, I can only apologize. If I didn't write like this, I'd never write at all. And lucky for my readers (and critics), I work for free. 
So here's another yet another story start. Don't crucify me.
"Svetlana Evgenova, please rise to hear your sentence," the deep voice boomed through the courtroom.
"I'll sit, thank you," replied the richly appareled prisoner with polite disdain. In addition to her classy designer dress and kid gloves, an expensive-looking hat perched to the side of her head.
There was less of a murmur at her impudence than might be imagined. The judge's tongue seemed to be fishing for something in his closed mouth, but the large audience hardly stirred. There may have been a few suppressed snickers or giggles.
"Svetlana Evgenova," the judge finally accepted a tactical defeat and went ahead with his business, albeit with a red face and a furrowed brow, gray eyebrows glowering over his eyes like thunderclouds as he spoke, "I hereby sentence you... to DEATH!" He paused. The courtroom remained silent. Then he finished: "by CRUCIFIXION!" and he rolled the 'r' with all the grandiloquence of his lofty office. There was no tumult or even buzz - all eyes turned toward young Svetlana.
"Crucifixion, indeed?" she almost laughed. "Going a bit overboard, aren't we, old man?" The judge's face lowered into a deep rage as he tried to glare some fear of the law into her.
"Take her away," he growled, finally. And at last the courtroom began to buzz.
"Is Her Highness ready?" one of her male attendants bent before her. She slowly gathered her things in her handbag, looking up at intervals to the judge, trying to flash him a condescending smile, but in the event finding herself too upset to do it properly. Finally she gave up trying and rose violently to her feet, indignant at her own discomfiture.
Cameras flashed and clicked as she swept by the spectators, ignoring their pleas to touch her hand, or even for autographs. Out into the sun she strode, surrounded by her entourage, and then into the waiting limousine, surrounded by it's own entourage of motorcycles and other black vehicles. Then she was off, and the people on the steps of the Palace of Justice were left with only their photographs.
Svetlana, the only child of Evgeny III of Smarkovy, had arrived two weeks before in the Grand Duchy of Olansk to meet her cousin, Lady Olga, sister of the Grand Duke himself. Svetlana and Olga had met to plan joint humanitarian programs to protect the children displaced by the ongoing war between Smarkovy and Olansk. But then Svetlana had been denounced as a spy and detained. Now she had been given a show trial and sentenced to death.
Svetlana had grown up with Piotr - she knew how he operated. From the moment she had been arrested she had known a death sentence was coming, and that she would thenceforward be a pawn in Piotr's political and military game against her father, very likely until the war ended.
All of which was terribly annoying, but not very frightening. Of course her father would never let anything happen to her, and even without her father's influence, Piotr was smart enough to weigh the international diplomatic consequences of executing his cousin and childhood playmate without cause. At her sentencing hearing, there had been no date set for her impending execution, because of course it was not meant to ever take place.
This is not to say that the idea of crucifixion hadn't been a bit of a shock anyway. But for now, she was headed, in the comfort of her chauffeured limousine, to Vlanova House, a country estate provided by a profusely apologetic Lady Olga. There she would do her best to continue her humanitarian work from house arrest.
TBC
So here's another yet another story start. Don't crucify me."Svetlana Evgenova, please rise to hear your sentence," the deep voice boomed through the courtroom.
"I'll sit, thank you," replied the richly appareled prisoner with polite disdain. In addition to her classy designer dress and kid gloves, an expensive-looking hat perched to the side of her head.
There was less of a murmur at her impudence than might be imagined. The judge's tongue seemed to be fishing for something in his closed mouth, but the large audience hardly stirred. There may have been a few suppressed snickers or giggles.
"Svetlana Evgenova," the judge finally accepted a tactical defeat and went ahead with his business, albeit with a red face and a furrowed brow, gray eyebrows glowering over his eyes like thunderclouds as he spoke, "I hereby sentence you... to DEATH!" He paused. The courtroom remained silent. Then he finished: "by CRUCIFIXION!" and he rolled the 'r' with all the grandiloquence of his lofty office. There was no tumult or even buzz - all eyes turned toward young Svetlana.
"Crucifixion, indeed?" she almost laughed. "Going a bit overboard, aren't we, old man?" The judge's face lowered into a deep rage as he tried to glare some fear of the law into her.
"Take her away," he growled, finally. And at last the courtroom began to buzz.
"Is Her Highness ready?" one of her male attendants bent before her. She slowly gathered her things in her handbag, looking up at intervals to the judge, trying to flash him a condescending smile, but in the event finding herself too upset to do it properly. Finally she gave up trying and rose violently to her feet, indignant at her own discomfiture.
Cameras flashed and clicked as she swept by the spectators, ignoring their pleas to touch her hand, or even for autographs. Out into the sun she strode, surrounded by her entourage, and then into the waiting limousine, surrounded by it's own entourage of motorcycles and other black vehicles. Then she was off, and the people on the steps of the Palace of Justice were left with only their photographs.
Svetlana, the only child of Evgeny III of Smarkovy, had arrived two weeks before in the Grand Duchy of Olansk to meet her cousin, Lady Olga, sister of the Grand Duke himself. Svetlana and Olga had met to plan joint humanitarian programs to protect the children displaced by the ongoing war between Smarkovy and Olansk. But then Svetlana had been denounced as a spy and detained. Now she had been given a show trial and sentenced to death.
Svetlana had grown up with Piotr - she knew how he operated. From the moment she had been arrested she had known a death sentence was coming, and that she would thenceforward be a pawn in Piotr's political and military game against her father, very likely until the war ended.
All of which was terribly annoying, but not very frightening. Of course her father would never let anything happen to her, and even without her father's influence, Piotr was smart enough to weigh the international diplomatic consequences of executing his cousin and childhood playmate without cause. At her sentencing hearing, there had been no date set for her impending execution, because of course it was not meant to ever take place.
This is not to say that the idea of crucifixion hadn't been a bit of a shock anyway. But for now, she was headed, in the comfort of her chauffeured limousine, to Vlanova House, a country estate provided by a profusely apologetic Lady Olga. There she would do her best to continue her humanitarian work from house arrest.
TBC
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