At a small town market square in 1395 A.D. ...
... The atmosphere was warm and tense. Clouds hung low, almost threatening to break when the sun pushed through a few weaker clouds, composing an intriguing dirty yellow light that lay over the small town market square. The air was filled with rage and exitement, as fathers, workmen, women, maids and children had gathered, waiting in anticipation on the small market square in front of a big castle wall, to witness the spectacular mass excecution.
The impressive castle was the pride and glory of every townsman. Frankly, people seemed to be content with the idea that the castle was on the market square, as it always reminded them of the greatness of their castle and its council. So on this day, when the city council had affixed the gallows at the only window in the castle wall that faced the market square. Prisioners would stand at the edge of the window and wait until a guard would place the sling around their necks and push them out the window, gloriously hanged and for every townsman to see. As the first prisioner came through the window and was subsequently executed, one could hear the townspeople's exstatic cheering and enliven from miles away. Everyone was enraged and jumped for excitement in the warm air on the market square, everyone except the prisioners in the dark corridors of the castle, living their last moments.
Over there, the cheers resounding from the market place were swallowed by the captavating structure of the castle. There air was moist and agonizing. The walls were narrow and wet. The stones upon which the prisioners bare feet stood were cold and painful. The atmosphere, tense and full of anxiety and there, among the long lines of prisioners, innocent and young was I. I was a boy, about 7 or 8, wearing a dirty and ripped linen shirt, rolled up by its sleeves and equally dirty beige shorts, no shoes. My hair was long, dirty and unkept and my hazel eyes were lifeless. I could not even understand why I was about to be excecuted and really I did not want to be excecuted. I was filled with anxiety and my angst to die and die alone.
As the line of prisioners shortened, the cheers of the townspeople on the market square could be heard again. The intriguing dirty yellow light shone into the dark corridor, lightening up the a few meters of the window of death. A couple of more people and it was my turn. I could hear my heart beat faster now and I was almost certain that the prisioners and the guard could hear it too as the sound of my heartbeat resounded off the moist walls. It was my turn now.
I took a deep breath, took a step forward and stared the very muscular guard into his eyes. I had to strain my neck, looking up as he was at least 2 meters tall. He dressed in rough black leather shorts, heavy black boots and no shirt. He reminded me of the blacksmith I would walk past on my way to the markets. My fear to die overcame me again. I begged him not to kill me and kill my parents and to either let us live or kills us together, but the guard smirked and shook his massive head as to what looked like slow motion to me. His unfriendly and rugged appearance implied that there was not much hope and I was going to be killed in what seemed the shortest 2 minutes of my life. To my surprise, he lifted his massive arm and stretched out a sausage lookalike of a finger to appoint me to the back of the line and wait there as the last man to be killed. I dropped my head and dragged my feet to the back of the line, passing by a multitude of astounded prisioners.
While I waited in line as the last man standing, a second guard, who looked very similar to the first one, appeared behind me and dragged me away, to my surprise and maybe even against my will. No resistance was possible, as that would have probably had as much of an impact to the guard as a fly on a horses back. He pushed me out into the glistening warm light and told me to run. I was confused, but started moving after just a short while. I had not even realized how cold my hands and feet had become. The warm air caused my fingers and toes to tingle. I was significantly perplexed and did not know where to go, so I followed the acidic smell of dead bodies, coming from the market square. I reached the market square, now looking at the castle wall from the other side. Below the gallows, were dead bodies piling up and with every prisioner that walked out the window and was subsequently hanged, more intestines and more blood stained the market square further. It were those stains that would later only remind of the atrocity that occurred on this day at the small town market square in 1395 A.D.
By: Jasmin
... The atmosphere was warm and tense. Clouds hung low, almost threatening to break when the sun pushed through a few weaker clouds, composing an intriguing dirty yellow light that lay over the small town market square. The air was filled with rage and exitement, as fathers, workmen, women, maids and children had gathered, waiting in anticipation on the small market square in front of a big castle wall, to witness the spectacular mass excecution.
The impressive castle was the pride and glory of every townsman. Frankly, people seemed to be content with the idea that the castle was on the market square, as it always reminded them of the greatness of their castle and its council. So on this day, when the city council had affixed the gallows at the only window in the castle wall that faced the market square. Prisioners would stand at the edge of the window and wait until a guard would place the sling around their necks and push them out the window, gloriously hanged and for every townsman to see. As the first prisioner came through the window and was subsequently executed, one could hear the townspeople's exstatic cheering and enliven from miles away. Everyone was enraged and jumped for excitement in the warm air on the market square, everyone except the prisioners in the dark corridors of the castle, living their last moments.
Over there, the cheers resounding from the market place were swallowed by the captavating structure of the castle. There air was moist and agonizing. The walls were narrow and wet. The stones upon which the prisioners bare feet stood were cold and painful. The atmosphere, tense and full of anxiety and there, among the long lines of prisioners, innocent and young was I. I was a boy, about 7 or 8, wearing a dirty and ripped linen shirt, rolled up by its sleeves and equally dirty beige shorts, no shoes. My hair was long, dirty and unkept and my hazel eyes were lifeless. I could not even understand why I was about to be excecuted and really I did not want to be excecuted. I was filled with anxiety and my angst to die and die alone.
As the line of prisioners shortened, the cheers of the townspeople on the market square could be heard again. The intriguing dirty yellow light shone into the dark corridor, lightening up the a few meters of the window of death. A couple of more people and it was my turn. I could hear my heart beat faster now and I was almost certain that the prisioners and the guard could hear it too as the sound of my heartbeat resounded off the moist walls. It was my turn now.
I took a deep breath, took a step forward and stared the very muscular guard into his eyes. I had to strain my neck, looking up as he was at least 2 meters tall. He dressed in rough black leather shorts, heavy black boots and no shirt. He reminded me of the blacksmith I would walk past on my way to the markets. My fear to die overcame me again. I begged him not to kill me and kill my parents and to either let us live or kills us together, but the guard smirked and shook his massive head as to what looked like slow motion to me. His unfriendly and rugged appearance implied that there was not much hope and I was going to be killed in what seemed the shortest 2 minutes of my life. To my surprise, he lifted his massive arm and stretched out a sausage lookalike of a finger to appoint me to the back of the line and wait there as the last man to be killed. I dropped my head and dragged my feet to the back of the line, passing by a multitude of astounded prisioners.
While I waited in line as the last man standing, a second guard, who looked very similar to the first one, appeared behind me and dragged me away, to my surprise and maybe even against my will. No resistance was possible, as that would have probably had as much of an impact to the guard as a fly on a horses back. He pushed me out into the glistening warm light and told me to run. I was confused, but started moving after just a short while. I had not even realized how cold my hands and feet had become. The warm air caused my fingers and toes to tingle. I was significantly perplexed and did not know where to go, so I followed the acidic smell of dead bodies, coming from the market square. I reached the market square, now looking at the castle wall from the other side. Below the gallows, were dead bodies piling up and with every prisioner that walked out the window and was subsequently hanged, more intestines and more blood stained the market square further. It were those stains that would later only remind of the atrocity that occurred on this day at the small town market square in 1395 A.D.
By: Jasmin
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