Final Thirteen Seconds
By R. W. Hampton
The young man’s heart raced as the guards walked him up the platform. Slowly he ascended the stairs, the chains between his feet jangling.
He stared forlornly at the crowd gathered to watch his death as his jailors opened the head block and shoved him into it, slamming and locking the wooden restraint.
His heart hammered in his chest as the priest and executioner approached. He took a deep steadying breath as the holy man read him his last rights.
The black hooded man stepped forward, the taut rope held tightly in his hands as he taunted cruelly, “Told you, you’d wind up here.”
The man of the cloth stepped back after he finished with, “May God have mercy on your soul.”
The gallows master announced his crime and punishment to the masses, “This young man has committed the crime of murder! The murder of his own master!” At this the crowd booed harshly, “A crime punishable by death!” A cheer rose from the people.
The young killer scowled at them. The wretched people didn’t even care why he did it! He let out an angry huff as his death turned to him and released the rope.
It was quick, and hardly hurt at all for which he was thankful.
A quiet came over the gathering as they stared at the headless body. But, before they could start cheering they heard something. . .a song emanating from the guillotine’s basket.
“Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are week but he is strong. . .”
FINN
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