The Hanging

10.

A crowd has gathered in the early morn. I can see their faces even in the dim lighting, illuminated only by the moon shining overhead. Stars are still scattered across the sky- watching, just as the mob does. They've all gathered here for me. For the end of my show. My brilliant act of life, finally to be snuffed out. I can't say I didn't expect it. 

9.

I raise my eyes to the heavens- a place I will never be. The rope around my neck is tight, a constant pressure, heavy around my neck like an ornate necklace. Oh, how I long for my golden jewelry and satin silks, so much prettier than the drab rags that wrap my frame now. A shame that this would be how the world sees me at my end. A broken, beaten monster in nothing more than tattered clothes and a noose for a necklace.

8.

It's nearly overwhelming. The chill of the cold December air, the scratchy material pressed against my neck. I can feel everything, and yet somehow, it still is not enough to satiate my hunger for what I still wish to see in the world. I can hear them all talking, but the words are nothing but noise. The lilt of the persecutors voice, the chatter of the crowd. I can't understand it, and honestly, I find no reason to try. Who cares what they say about me? They can all go to hell. I'll be waiting for them there anyway.

7. 

My eyes lower from the sky to look out into the sea of people once more. Most of them are foreign to me, commoners that despised me even before my downfall. I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for not trying to get to know them better. Maybe if had, I wouldn't have gotten my way into this mess. Maybe they would believe my innocence. I search, desperately, for the members of my families faces. I know they are not there, deep down. There was no surviving the damage of the fire. The fire my own hands had started, that engulfed my life and burnt up everything I once loved. I do not find them, and yet my gaze falters as it falls upon the familiar faces. Ones I once considered my friends. 

6. 

John, with his stone hard gaze and dirty blonde hair. Even from afar I can see the clench of his jaw, his solid brown eyes staring directly at me, his brows furrowed. He looks serious now, just as he always does. If he is upset, I have no way of knowing. He never was one to share his emotions, never was one to truly let me in. I know this for certain, though - he will not cry for me.

5.

Emily. Sweet, loving Emily. My stare softens as it gets to her. I meet her blurry eyes, trying to smile, only for my heart to sink at the sight of the tears staining her cheeks. Her bottom lip trembles as she looks at me, clutching onto John's arm so tight I could see the wrinkles forming on his dress shirt. Her long red hair is down, so much different than her usual meticulously planned style. She's already wearing black. Mourning me before I'm even dead.

4. 

Lilith stands beside her, a comforting hand resting upon her back. Her dark brows are knit together in worry, but I know that her concern is not for me. She has always valued her little sister more than anything in her life. She was her whole world, the only family she had left . Being best friends with her meant being close to Lilith. Even if we were friendly, it was never much more than niceties exchanged when we were alone. She worries for how her sister will take this loss. I do not blame her.

3.

And then there is William. The boy with dark brown hair and stunning blue eyes who is not dressed like the rest of my friends, instead wearing a ragged shirt, stained with dirt. The boy of my dreams, and the face I know will be the last one I wish to see. I can't help but feel a pang of sorrow for all the time we will lose. All the tender touches in the night I'll never get to feel. I can see the glisten of tears in his eyes, but he is trying to stay strong, I can tell. Does he believe what they say about me? I hope not. Let that lie remain in his heart for the rest of time, let his thoughts about me remain pure and bright.

2.

It's almost time. My neck already aches at the very thought of what's to come. If I wanted to, I could burn the rope right now. I could feel the magic rise to my palms at the thought, a burning heat that shoots up my arm. I could free myself, right now, and flee off into the night, never to be seen again. I could live out the rest of my life on the run, perhaps start a new life somewhere far away from here. The urge within me is strong, but instead I let the magic die out, fizzling away into the cold night air. That would betray the ones who mean the most to me. It would be admitting to what I am, what I had done. They see me as a monster, but I'm just a kid. I have nowhere else to turn, so really, what is the point? What more can I do in this tedious life?

1.

It's time. Despite my previous reservation about giving in, my eyes widen, panic clutching my chest. I don't want to die. Not like this, not when I have so much life left to give. But it's too late. Before my hands can even reach up to clutch at my throat...

0.

A bright flash of light blinds me. There is screaming from the crowd. The world around me fades to black, but somehow, something seems wrong. I'm out before I even have time to question what, the world fading into black.