botanyray
Condemned
Part I
It was a warm evening, with a mild breeze from West, a typical end-of-Summer evening of the Lamarc region. The weather was what she liked most of that place, Anjia thought, nor the people – which for the most were boorish farmers too much devoted to their stupid work during the day and to the beer after the sunset – nor the place itself – which was nothing else than a sequence of fields and insignificant towns.
While these thoughts were running through her mind, she was crossing the Baloon bridge, taking the leftmost of the three roads branching off from the Ashtalon Junction. She really hated that place and, every time she passed through the Junction, she tried to force herself not to look at what was erected on the right side of the rightmost crossing road. But as always her eyes did not follow what her mind was ordering and she looked, once again.
On a platform made out from a huge stone block, two huge metal spikes appeared and of top of them an inscription casted out from marble, reading: “This is the retribution for criminals”. Now, the wooden gallow platform which once was erected on top of the stone had been long gone, but Anjia knew how that place appeared 30 or 40 years before, since she once saw a drawing of it while she was searching old numbers of the Lamarc Gazzette in the town library, for a school research work. And from the day she saw that drawing, her brain was immediately interpolating between her senses and her memories or imagination when she dared to look at the Junction scaffold, or the Justice Ostensory as it was called by the old people. In the old good times, two oak blocks were mounted on the platform and on those blocks the justice of Lamarc triumphed, so many times that nobody could have said.
A quick but dreadful scene showed up in Anjia’s mind, two convicted criminals, two women kneeling in front of blocks, their would-be executioners on their sides, each of them with a huge, shining axe in his hands: one of the criminals waiting the kiss of the justice was in her fourties, she had long brown hair, now in a single braid down on her shoulders; she was still amazingly beautiful, though her face was now contorted in a crying, sobbing and furious despair. The other one was much younger, eighteen or nineteen, a slim blonde with short hair, she was also crying but the look of inconsolable desperation and terror was mixed on her face with shame and, particularly, a shocked desbilief. For both, however, those were the last moments on Earth, since their executioners were already forcing their necks down to the blocks, as from tradition, pulling their hair so to force them lying in position for the death to come in the form of an abominious, sharp blade. For the older, the pulling operation was facilitated by the long braid and the useless opposion of the screaming creature was rapidly reduced under control, and completely subdue by a gentle touch of the blade on the exposed neck: this made clear for the condemned that she was doomed, the time of the words had come to an end, no more illusion for mercy, no more time to live and pray, now the time of the blade had come, the time for sheding her blood, the time for her to loose her head and life in pain.
Despite visibly damning those fucking short blonde hair, the experienced second executioner managed to collect the blonde hair of the younger condemned all on his left hand, but the mix of the more cumbersome hair logistic and the more furious reaction of the young would-be carcass made her path towards acceptance of her fate more difficult. The executioner, after a couple of attempts to make her stand still, forced her head up and exposing her throat to the blade exclaimed: “Fucking cow, just obey and die otherwise I’m going to slit your fucking throat, slowly like a pig!! Do you understand?”. The young dying cow, visibly terrified by that vision, nodded. But the executioner again shouted:”What?? Fucking answer yes or no, use your fucking voice one last time cow!!”. The doomed girl thus replied “Yes, Sir. I’m going to die now, cut my head off quickly I beg you, please do not cut my throat slowly opened, like for a pig, I beg you, sir! “. And the executioner “Fuck lie you neck on the block, no!.. Not like this, fucking slut, you chin passed the block, there you go! Look directly at the ground and wait for the blade to dispose of you."
While all this happened the older woman’s sobbing and moaning progressively became once again a loud begging prayer, such as the few minutes waiting had triggered a vain but still persistent hope or better illusion for possible mercy in what remained of the soul of the to-be corpse with brown braided hair: “Please, Milord, have mercy on me, spare me this death, spare me your blade, I beg you, I implore for mercy! Have some mercy, oh my Goddes, don’t kill me, don’t butcher this begging cow!! Oh my Lord…! “. The moaning of such disgusting begger was however roughly interrupted when her executioner noticed that his colleague was ready with her victim securely pushed down the block sumissively waiting for the death to come. Noticing this the man in charge of killing the older cow roughly pressed again his axe’s blade on her victim’s neck, already cutting her tender flesh but only superficially, a blood gush immediately erupted from the wound. Thence, the now executing slut erupted first a disturbing sound, like a scream but more, cacophonous, loud but at the same time hoarse : “Gaspahhh ahieee.. “ and then tried to articulate a sentence “noooh ahhhh Pleas.. Noo ahhh… gut”, her words were already almost non human, more spectral, no human hope or feeling were left in them, just agony, misery and an incumbent death spell. And death finally came for her, when at the final “gut” which nobody will ever know how to translate in the language of the living, her head was severed from the once body now already a corpse. The head rolled back while her lips were still moving and creating an abominious jerk of warm blood, fell into the basked in front of the execution block.
The second executioner heard the sound of the axe falling and her victim, despite not able to watch the horrendous scene, could feel the air moving from the quick release of the axe power and was then hit by a blood squirt released by her companion’s head. At the beginning she did not realize it was blood but then she understood what indeed was, she though in a moment “What the hell, what’s this?!? It’s hot, a bit sweet, what’s?!?... Oh my goodness, it’s blood! My Mother’s blood in my mouth, her head… my Mom has gone… my Goddes! “
But then this flow of thoughts was cut short by what she heard : “Die fucking slut, I will fuck your head afterwards! “ and it came.
The blade came, descending through her neck, slicing it apart and she fell a spurt of her own blood coming up from her throat to her mouth, some blood indeed erupted from her mouth but the rest had no time to reach the original opening destination, since the geometry of her body changed while completing the transition to the its new carcass state. Her neck was in fact cut in half, the axe blade now in between the larger part of her carcass and the head. The axe is now deep in the wooden block, while her head is flying in the air, her eyes rolling upwards, the pupils pushed to the back, her blonde hair now stained in blood- as soon as they were released from the her conqueror's hand they in fact fell down where originally her neck was and where they were now welcomed by the massive blood release from the dying brain’s vessels. And the dying cow was finally dead meat.
After having collected the respective heads from the baskets and having shown them to the cheering crowd, each executioner spiked his head, the metal spike entering from the severed neck up inside the brain meat of the dead criminal.
Blood quickly adorned the spike falling from the top which now hosted the heads down to its base. The crowd following the usual spell then exclaimed :
“Thanks good executioners for collecting these criminals' head, for ending their ignoble lifes, for bringing justice to this Land. Now and always this is and will be the retribution for criminals! May those two cows be already languishing in Hell!! “
This is was Anjia’s brain assembled together in a matter of seconds, before she quickly looked away taking the road to Chateaux, the insignificant town where she has been living for the last 6 moths, the final destination of a long escape run, escape from the past, escape from Justice, she thought for a moment. But quickly this and other stressful thoughts were pushed back to the non conscious part of her soul, an exercise she was now very good at after a long practice.
It was a warm evening, with a mild breeze from West, a typical end-of-Summer evening of the Lamarc region. The weather was what she liked most of that place, Anjia thought, nor the people – which for the most were boorish farmers too much devoted to their stupid work during the day and to the beer after the sunset – nor the place itself – which was nothing else than a sequence of fields and insignificant towns.
While these thoughts were running through her mind, she was crossing the Baloon bridge, taking the leftmost of the three roads branching off from the Ashtalon Junction. She really hated that place and, every time she passed through the Junction, she tried to force herself not to look at what was erected on the right side of the rightmost crossing road. But as always her eyes did not follow what her mind was ordering and she looked, once again.
On a platform made out from a huge stone block, two huge metal spikes appeared and of top of them an inscription casted out from marble, reading: “This is the retribution for criminals”. Now, the wooden gallow platform which once was erected on top of the stone had been long gone, but Anjia knew how that place appeared 30 or 40 years before, since she once saw a drawing of it while she was searching old numbers of the Lamarc Gazzette in the town library, for a school research work. And from the day she saw that drawing, her brain was immediately interpolating between her senses and her memories or imagination when she dared to look at the Junction scaffold, or the Justice Ostensory as it was called by the old people. In the old good times, two oak blocks were mounted on the platform and on those blocks the justice of Lamarc triumphed, so many times that nobody could have said.
A quick but dreadful scene showed up in Anjia’s mind, two convicted criminals, two women kneeling in front of blocks, their would-be executioners on their sides, each of them with a huge, shining axe in his hands: one of the criminals waiting the kiss of the justice was in her fourties, she had long brown hair, now in a single braid down on her shoulders; she was still amazingly beautiful, though her face was now contorted in a crying, sobbing and furious despair. The other one was much younger, eighteen or nineteen, a slim blonde with short hair, she was also crying but the look of inconsolable desperation and terror was mixed on her face with shame and, particularly, a shocked desbilief. For both, however, those were the last moments on Earth, since their executioners were already forcing their necks down to the blocks, as from tradition, pulling their hair so to force them lying in position for the death to come in the form of an abominious, sharp blade. For the older, the pulling operation was facilitated by the long braid and the useless opposion of the screaming creature was rapidly reduced under control, and completely subdue by a gentle touch of the blade on the exposed neck: this made clear for the condemned that she was doomed, the time of the words had come to an end, no more illusion for mercy, no more time to live and pray, now the time of the blade had come, the time for sheding her blood, the time for her to loose her head and life in pain.
Despite visibly damning those fucking short blonde hair, the experienced second executioner managed to collect the blonde hair of the younger condemned all on his left hand, but the mix of the more cumbersome hair logistic and the more furious reaction of the young would-be carcass made her path towards acceptance of her fate more difficult. The executioner, after a couple of attempts to make her stand still, forced her head up and exposing her throat to the blade exclaimed: “Fucking cow, just obey and die otherwise I’m going to slit your fucking throat, slowly like a pig!! Do you understand?”. The young dying cow, visibly terrified by that vision, nodded. But the executioner again shouted:”What?? Fucking answer yes or no, use your fucking voice one last time cow!!”. The doomed girl thus replied “Yes, Sir. I’m going to die now, cut my head off quickly I beg you, please do not cut my throat slowly opened, like for a pig, I beg you, sir! “. And the executioner “Fuck lie you neck on the block, no!.. Not like this, fucking slut, you chin passed the block, there you go! Look directly at the ground and wait for the blade to dispose of you."
While all this happened the older woman’s sobbing and moaning progressively became once again a loud begging prayer, such as the few minutes waiting had triggered a vain but still persistent hope or better illusion for possible mercy in what remained of the soul of the to-be corpse with brown braided hair: “Please, Milord, have mercy on me, spare me this death, spare me your blade, I beg you, I implore for mercy! Have some mercy, oh my Goddes, don’t kill me, don’t butcher this begging cow!! Oh my Lord…! “. The moaning of such disgusting begger was however roughly interrupted when her executioner noticed that his colleague was ready with her victim securely pushed down the block sumissively waiting for the death to come. Noticing this the man in charge of killing the older cow roughly pressed again his axe’s blade on her victim’s neck, already cutting her tender flesh but only superficially, a blood gush immediately erupted from the wound. Thence, the now executing slut erupted first a disturbing sound, like a scream but more, cacophonous, loud but at the same time hoarse : “Gaspahhh ahieee.. “ and then tried to articulate a sentence “noooh ahhhh Pleas.. Noo ahhh… gut”, her words were already almost non human, more spectral, no human hope or feeling were left in them, just agony, misery and an incumbent death spell. And death finally came for her, when at the final “gut” which nobody will ever know how to translate in the language of the living, her head was severed from the once body now already a corpse. The head rolled back while her lips were still moving and creating an abominious jerk of warm blood, fell into the basked in front of the execution block.
The second executioner heard the sound of the axe falling and her victim, despite not able to watch the horrendous scene, could feel the air moving from the quick release of the axe power and was then hit by a blood squirt released by her companion’s head. At the beginning she did not realize it was blood but then she understood what indeed was, she though in a moment “What the hell, what’s this?!? It’s hot, a bit sweet, what’s?!?... Oh my goodness, it’s blood! My Mother’s blood in my mouth, her head… my Mom has gone… my Goddes! “
But then this flow of thoughts was cut short by what she heard : “Die fucking slut, I will fuck your head afterwards! “ and it came.
The blade came, descending through her neck, slicing it apart and she fell a spurt of her own blood coming up from her throat to her mouth, some blood indeed erupted from her mouth but the rest had no time to reach the original opening destination, since the geometry of her body changed while completing the transition to the its new carcass state. Her neck was in fact cut in half, the axe blade now in between the larger part of her carcass and the head. The axe is now deep in the wooden block, while her head is flying in the air, her eyes rolling upwards, the pupils pushed to the back, her blonde hair now stained in blood- as soon as they were released from the her conqueror's hand they in fact fell down where originally her neck was and where they were now welcomed by the massive blood release from the dying brain’s vessels. And the dying cow was finally dead meat.
After having collected the respective heads from the baskets and having shown them to the cheering crowd, each executioner spiked his head, the metal spike entering from the severed neck up inside the brain meat of the dead criminal.
Blood quickly adorned the spike falling from the top which now hosted the heads down to its base. The crowd following the usual spell then exclaimed :
“Thanks good executioners for collecting these criminals' head, for ending their ignoble lifes, for bringing justice to this Land. Now and always this is and will be the retribution for criminals! May those two cows be already languishing in Hell!! “
This is was Anjia’s brain assembled together in a matter of seconds, before she quickly looked away taking the road to Chateaux, the insignificant town where she has been living for the last 6 moths, the final destination of a long escape run, escape from the past, escape from Justice, she thought for a moment. But quickly this and other stressful thoughts were pushed back to the non conscious part of her soul, an exercise she was now very good at after a long practice.
Last edited:
) I have the evolution of the story clear, at least overall. I hope to have time soon!
