Red Misery

He stood on the scaffold in the bright morning sunlight. He was no more than seventeen- still only a lad, but well built and handsome. She liked it when they were. Long, dark locks met strong shoulders and a wide-set chest. The terror that showed upon his face excited her, as it excited the large crowd that gathered in the parade ground. Everyone was here; peasant, slave and noble, ignoring class and rank for the spirited occasion. Even the young children were present, and could be heard squealing and laughing, weaving through the legs of the crowd.

Besides Amy stood a woman, attending to her small daughter’s pleads for attention. The child was angelic. She sucked her thumb and gazed at her mother with wide, innocent eyes.

The mother smiled as she noticed Amy’s stare. ‘It’s her first execution,’ she explained. ‘She doesn’t like crowds, you see. All the people make her nervous.’

The prisoner’s wrists were shackled with iron rings, and from where Amy stood, she could see the raw, abused skin on the boy’s ankles. She allowed herself to imagine his pain for a fleeting moment, and the blonde hairs on her delicate arms stood on edge.

The magistrate’s voice distracted her from her thoughts as he stepped forward. ‘Now, hear the verdict of the colony of Good Fortune and the power vested in me by Law, Land and Monarchy.’

‘Get to the action, already,’ someone in the crowd shouted, and another followed suit.

‘It is hereby decreed that, Paulus Maravick , having been found guilty of murder…’

‘I was there, you know,’ Amy said. ‘I saw the whole thing. And I testified in court, I did, too!’

‘How did it happen,’ the woman asked, clearly impressed. ‘The murder, I mean.’

Amy sighed, glad have power, even in such a small amount. She remembered the night clearly, and how the two sailors had fought, overcome by liquor and testosterone.

‘A cloth, would you believe it? Right down the bastard’s throat, it was. He squirmed and splashed like a damned fish, he did too! That is, until he stopped moving, and then the watch came- damned sailors.’

‘Ooh, sailors, you say! The rats of the sea,’ the mother said, smiling secretly at her use of words, which she had remembered from another’s mouth. ‘Can’t trust the lot of them as far as I could throw my own turd.’

‘It’s the lot of them, my love. Not just sailors- all men are the same!’

‘God’s testament,’ she agreed sagely.

The speaker reached the end of his ceremonious proclamation, and so the two switched their attention eagerly. ‘Therefore, the said, Paulus Maravick, is condemned to death by hanging.’

The crowd began to rustle with anticipated. The mother lifted her child by the armpits and placed her snugly on her shoulders. ‘There you go, princess. Best view in the bleeding colony!’

The magistrate stepped aside, revealing the executioner. Amy’s heart began to pound. There he was- the manifestation of Godliness. He wore all black and his head was covered in a cotton hood- but she did not need to see his face to know he was the man for her. They were destined by Fate. His eyes ran slowly over the crowd from the holes in the cloth, and he pierced Amy’s soul like hot rods as their eyes met.

There had always something lacking at the executions, when the prisoner’s head was covered. Besides from the ballooning of the hood which showed the person’s heavy breathing, there was nothing to enjoy. As the noose was slipped around the prisoner’s neck and was placed snugly under his left ear, Amy began to feel the expected, warm sensation between her thighs- hoods were never used with Charlie.

‘I love this part,” she said giddily as the boy began to panic- his eyes becoming pleading and his breathing ragged.

‘For the love of God, have mercy!’ the prisoner pleaded, but he was met by jeers and laughter.

‘You don’t have no God!’

‘Snap his neck, Charlie!’

The executioner moved slowly to the opposite end of the scaffold and picked up a huge, wooden mallet. The prisoner looked about him with quick, watering eyes, seeking for some evidence of aid. His eyes fixed upon Amy’s, and a pleasure welled up inside her so strongly that she thought she might scream. Never before had she seen the fear so clearly. The prisoner’s eyes distracted her from the executioner’s movements, and his stroke at the wedge that held closed the trap-door startled her.

Charlie had calculated everything perfectly. Unlike the clumsy executioner before him, who often snapped the vertebrae of the prisoner and ruined the sport, the boy began to choke. The fall had slammed his chin high and stretched his neck awkwardly. The choking gargle that followed tickled her ears like a soft wind.

‘Dance for us!’

‘That’s the spirit!’

‘A merry jig, if I’ve ever seen one!’

The crowd’s taunts annoyed Amy deeply. Distracted from the boy, she looked up at the child who sat high upon her mother’s shoulders. Her eyes were fixed upon the show and her smile beamed beautifully.

The boy kicked, and clawed at the rope and he mouthed a prayer through suffocation and his eyes met Amy’s again. Her palms began to sweat and moisten, and the rest of her body follower suit. She adjusted her footing, enjoying the moment with every muscle in her body tensed.

When finally the body stopped struggling, and the spasmodic twitches had subsided, the people began to depart, talking with loud, jovial voices until only Amy remained. She stood, unmoving, watching the body turn ever so slightly in the soft breeze.

When the lowering sun cast beautiful reds and oranges onto the still corpse, she turned and left slowly, not wanted to see the masterpiece destroyed by the crows that began to gather in multitudes.


Okay, erm. Yea. That's it, heh. What do you think? Don't be too harsh, but be harsh. I mean, constructive criticisms only, please! Thanks to Fantasy for helping me with this before I posted. *mwah*

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You are harmless and noiseless as any of these old chair; in short, I never feel so private as when I know you are here

Min Min Light

My first thought: you write well. The words flowed seamlessly into a story an into my mind. I'd have to go out of my way to find errors in it, and I could only find three:

Beside Amy stood a woman

crowd began to rustle with anticipation

Amy sighed, glad to have power

There could be a few improvements in wording, such as:

She remembered the night clearly: how the two sailors had fought, overcome by liquor and testosterone.

Other than the ballooning of the hood

This sentence has an odd combination of commas and 'and's. It could be 'The boy kicked, clawed at the rope, and mouthed a prayer through suffocation. His eyes met Amy’s again.'

'When, finally, the body stopped struggling,' OR 'When the spasmodic twitches had subsided,'
Both of these clauses say basically the same thing.

As for my impressions of the story... It wasn't happy. Except in very rare cases, I like happy endings. That's just me though. I'll try not to be biased from that.
It was certainly original. You don't see many stories about executions, especially given this sort of treatment. Our protagonist Amy's quite the sadist, but then, the whole lot of the audience seems to be.

The story says 'Europe in the Middle Ages' to me, but I could be off. IMO, you should have described the setting a bit more. Maybe the streets are squalid and the people are barefoot, maybe the woman besides Amy is missing her front teeth smells rancid, or maybe the sky is clear and sunny, perfect weather for an execution. These details aren't necessary, but I'd like a few of them.

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MML: Too smart for the dumb people, too dumb for the smart people. Too lame for the cool people--so what am I doing here?

Chris Miller

The strength in this story is in the development of the gril's character. You develop a wonderfully evil, yet very human and believable, person here. you manage to make some strong statements about humanity. I enjoyed it.

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the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

Red Misery

Wow thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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You are harmless and noiseless as any of these old chair; in short, I never feel so private as when I know you are here

Emerson Darkness

that's a pretty famous title

rydenthorne

You gotta change the title to this short story, bud. "A Feast for Crows" is a novel by George R.R. Martin...

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Chapter 7: A Woven Blade
Chapter 16: Battle of Whitehorse Ridge

Mungye

It was well written. Exactly portraying Paris in the Terror to my mind. The women knitted while the high born were dragged to the guillotine.I felt incredibly sad at such cruelty to another human being or any living thing really. You are a good writer.

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Once upon a time in a place far far away..........

Changeling

Hi Red. I liked this, very macabre and funny too.
Min Min has pointed out the little typo's, easily fixed.
I liked the crowd's one liners, I love the slang and utter lack of compassion they have. It is hilarious how cruel they are, how much pleasure she takes in it all - and at the same time it is disturbing enough to make one reflect on how true to life these people are. It raises the question of who is most evil the judge, the killer, the spectators, and reminds that hanging is still common around the world.
The only thing I'd change was the line describing the murder, you say "testosterone" - scientifically accurate but i'm not sure it fits with the time setting. maybe use a simpler word , e.g. drunken antics, twisted male pride etc...these suck, but you know what i mean.

In brief, a good story with a good balance of humour and lurking horror on multiple levels. keep it up

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We are all in the gutter, but some of us are gazing at the stars. (Wilde)