Drum Roll

 My head throbbed from the repeating rattle of the snares that echoed across the courtyard. Never in my life had I heard so many noises jumbled up and shoved into my ear at once. People were chatting in all directions, along with the faint squawking of seagulls somewhere in the distance.

Suddenly, the rattling sustained into a crescendo until it stopped altogether. The only sound was of the slightly melodic jingling of chains that swung limply from side to side.

I averted my eyes away from the scene that I had witnessed over and over again and onto my hands in front of me. My wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from the iron shackles that continuously caused my skin to blister under its tight grip. Small traces of red emerged from beneath the iron and dripped down my arms.

But I ignored the pain.

Soon enough, it wouldn’t even matter. The line was growing alarmingly shorter by the minute, and my number would be up. I felt the sharp pain of a bayonet poke me in the side, and we shuffled forward, our chains clinking along to the drumbeat.  

“The following are convicted of felonies that will result in capital punishment in the name of his Majesty the King…”

I didn’t really know how to stomach the whole concept of inevitable death. How do you deal with it, exactly? Does your life flash before your eyes like most people say it does? It didn’t seem like that to me. Several people ahead of me felt the need to weep pathetically amongst themselves; trembling and begging to God for mercy as if they were any less damned than the rest of us. Is that how most people dealt with it?

But then again, I’m not like most people. At first, denial swept me away from my comprehension of my unfortunate situation more rapidly than any other emotion. But the closer I got to the rotting stench of flesh, the deeper the rusty knife of truth dug into my gut. The whole world around me seemed to darken as if it painted in red ink. To my surprise, a familiar emotion started to boil deep within my blood.

Fury.

I was angry. Like, abnormally angry. I gritted my teeth as one of the on looking civilians threw a stone forcefully into my side. Indignation boiled in my chest as I stood there, fuming in my shackles. Sure, I was only a fifteen year old who spent the last six years of his life committed to thievery and crime. Sure, I was forced to grow up at the age of nine because my parents didn’t even bother to take care of me. But that gave those heartless bastards no right to torment me in my last hours of despair. Still, I clenched my jaw and glared down at my dirty, bare feet. My heart solidified until it hung like a stone in my chest. I was just one out of the hundreds awaiting their doom. I had no right to complain.

Again, the drums ceased to an eerie silence. The pattern repeated until eventually, it seemed to blend noiselessly into the background. I closed my eyes. Unintentionally, my mind wandered back to a few days before…

 __________________________________________________________

“Keep up! They’re getting closer!” I yelled over my shoulder, briefly spotting a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. The weight of the sack slowed me down, but I pressed on complacently.

My companion at the time, Fidget, followed close behind at my heels. The tall, skinny redhead definitely lived up to his name. He had nervous, shifty eyes that zoomed left and right, and fingers that fiddled with anything within range. In other words, he was a perfect lookout.

We dodged trees, fences, and boulders until we came to a dead end. A high ledge circumscribed the slope where we had just come from. Fidget easily hauled himself up the ledge, but when I leaped after him, my hands couldn’t reach the foothold. Frantically, I threw the sack above me onto the outcrop, hoping to make my jump easier. But the soldiers were approaching rapidly, so I reached my hand up expectantly.

“Quick! Pull me up!” I ordered desperately.

Fidget glanced at the sack, then back at me. To my horror, he swung the bag over his shoulder and stood up.

“Sorry boss. I can’t go to prison.” He shook the bag full of coins in satisfaction. “I’ve got a life full of luxury ahead of me.” And he was up a tree before I could even object.

I made a hopeless effort of pulling myself over the ledge, but was sharply discontinued halfway through a mid-climb from a rough kick to the hand. My grip slipped and I fell to the ground, only to be completely surrounded by dozens of bayonets pointed towards my skull.

“Thought you could get away, didn’t you.” One of the soldiers prodded me in the head from above contemptuously. “I guess you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

The man who addressed me stepped forward and secured a pair of shackles onto my wrists. The last thing I needed was another vituperation, so I tried a different approach.

“…sorry.” I grumbled.

The soldier frowned at my anomaly, and then stood up. “Hah. You don’t look very sorry.”

I couldn’t help but let the corner of my mouth curl up in a devilish grin.”You’re right, I’m not.”

The soldier swung his head defiantly in my direction. “You watch your mouth, boy. You’re in no position to fool around.” Strong hands gripped my chains as if on cue. “So tell me, thief. Are you alone or is some other godforsaken street rat in on this plan as well?”

I scowled up at the tree where Fidget was hiding. I might’ve been hallucinating, but I’m pretty sure I caught a glimpse of a musket aimed right towards me.

I gritted my teeth furiously. “No.”

The soldier sneered in delight. “Of course not. You lowlifes must be so repugnant that you couldn’t even find another companion if you tried.” The he bent down until he was inches away from my glaring face. “Perhaps that’s why your parents never took the time to raise you properly.”

At that point, my bellicose attitude got the best of me. Without thinking, I hacked up a wad into the back of my throat, and spit into the soldier’s face. The man staggered back in surprise, then wiped the saliva off his face, disgusted.

“Why you little-” And he smacked me so hard across the face, I felt my brains joggle inside my skull. Furious, I launched myself at the man, only to be held back by ten other soldiers. I let out a frustrated scream, and struggled against their grasp. Suddenly, I heard the crack of wood against bone, and my vision went black before I could even process what happened.

The last thing I remembered was waking up in a stone cold cell the following morning.

 ________________________________________________________

Now here I was, facing the veracity of anyone’s worst nightmare. I rubbed the back of my head at the memory, still bruised as though it were a reminder that I was awake and among reality. My shackles clinked as I did so, and I quickly dropped them to avoid attention.

The drums started to sound again, so we moved forward single file. The sequence continued until finally, my chained feet dragged themselves across the panels of the wooden staircase and on top of the trap door. As the legal decree was recited, I felt cold, rough hands force the noose over my head and around my neck. I swallowed hard, taking in an apprehensive breath. I knew I had to face my fate someday; I just… didn’t expect it to be this soon. The realization made me tremble violently.

“Do you have any regrets?”

It wasn’t until then did I realize a girl about my age standing over the trap door next to me. At least, I thought she was my age. I guess baneful situations like these added an absurd amount of aging to your appearance. Aside from the filth caking her cheeks, two tear trails exposed soft pale skin underneath. Sad, tired, blue eyes mirrored mine, only openly expressive.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I said, do you have any regrets?” She confirmed, her voice shaking.

The snares sped up.

I lifted my chin towards the glaring afternoon sun, and narrowed my eyebrows angrily.

“…May God have mercy on your souls.” The reciter concluded.

“No.” I answered firmly.

And all was silent.