Title: The Alchemist and Apothecary
The crowds of what appeared to be street urchins and ragamuffins and the like roared on in a manifesto of jeers, cheers, and excited anticipation of the celebration death of display. The latest way of death was the Guillotine more elaborate than the old execution of death by hanging. This particular execution was proclaimed big, because it was ordered from the king himself. For the wanted and charged with said crimes against the innocent and gullible (in his own mind.)
Apothecary Alexdander Ash. Just his name alone enforced more uproar and commotion. He himself in his dark and dirty dungeon. Clapped wildly and madly very content indeed. While all his inmates thought him to be perfectly insane from all the chemicals and potions he used. They were spooked by the witch doctor.
That brought a gleam to the dear doctors eye. A joy and amusement he, to himself thought he was but a man of science. But to the insolent and narrow-minded he was made up to be a murderer, and killer of souls. Collecting them supposedly for misdeeds. A Grim Reaper with a human mask and from the devils handiwork. But that was all superstition and speculation illogical notions.
He listened on whist they proclaimed his day of death and sentence. That his medicine was the cause for his injustice experiments and actions. He twirled a piece of his snow colored hair dirtying the tips from his ink soiled fingers. His luminescent eyes glittering with delight. At the mention of his now deceased clients dropping away effortlessly. He recounted their uses of his medicine. While everywhere he was dubbed a charlatan.
He cringed hating the very meaning of that word. He cleaned up his tangled mess of hair smoothing his now soot covered outfit. The dress of the time was a costume of wealth and rank. He found it simply humorous. His sun-bleached skin was now ghostly ivory. His hollowed cheeks contorting in the most haunting way. His appearance was slightly dead-like. He sighed deeply to himself humming a flute players tune.
Then the guards with their armor and serious expressions came and roughly dragged him chains in all towards the outside performance. Where the crowd exploded with fist rising. How morbidly curious Alexander thought to himself. Even they were entrained with a little death lingering. He waved and grinned like a war hero coming home from victory.
His adoring audience quickly adjusting to the warm sun. His spotlight, he glanced to see his beloved and merciless ruler and king looking quite refined and disgusted. While his Queen disguised her face with a fan. He giggled drunkenly with delight. Instead of shuddering at the proposition before him. He loved the ambiance, it was a theater of tragedy and curiosity. How wicked and medieval.
He almost wanted to burst out with a lyric of a poet. Soon he was shackled free from his prison all better for this moment. Then the Priest read the prayers and waiting for the last words. He shook his head in disgrace as the guards forced Alexander to kneel before God and his people. He looked with enjoyment smiling a goofy grin from ear-to-ear. Only for the dismay of the people they're curses but a faint echo of his insanity and madness.
But soon everyone fell hushed, silent once the machine was in motion and place. He looked benevolently at the wooded bucket where his head was presumed to roll. Then being piked for all to see. But Alexander was not quite finished. Last words were important of course. He was a trickster merely with enough tricks to make his own kingdom to rule. He felt the stares and cries of former lovers but none pierced him. Before the blade made its finale swift blow. Before it could slice and meet his neck with a quick end. He swirled gracefully his fingers in a little swaying motion. Stopping the blade entirely. Then he glanced up whispering to everyone. A secret shared excitedly.
"Dears, haven't you heard, a ending is just the beginning."
And he laughs madly to himself vanishing in a single puff of smoke. Shocking everyone into silence. The blade only manging to caught but a lock of his curly bright white hair. His laughter haunting in the aftermath loudly ricocheting through the town.
Then End of part 1
Author's Notes: Thank you to anyone reading and hopefully enjoying this! Hopefully you'll come back for part 2! Good day and good bye for now dear readers, writers and the like. Side art is by: yooani