| Dearly Executed Her hooded frock shunned the light, her face filled with shaddows. Her eyes once sparkled now were dark, on the platform of the gallows. Both her hands gripped the rope, as the blade slowly rose. He flinched and trembled at her touch, awaiting the final blow. The crowd was hushed and silent, not a whisper from the breeze. They watched the scheduled execution of the man on his knees. A stir from behind the crowded group, sentries sent the alarms. All heads turned to see the comotion as a guard waved his arms. A gasp like murmer from the crowd as hoofbeats hit the stone. Their was no rider in the saddle, just the steed all alone. An open path appeared in panic as the people all stepped clear. The stallions muscles rippled as he raced with lowered ears. The scream heard from the steps as she flung the black caped hood. Her weapon sliced the air along with splinters from the wood. The slanted blade whistled as it sliced down the rails. Heartbeats and chills ran rampant as the blade peg broke and failed. The stallion reared and blocked the view as the blade sounded home. The calm was deathly silent as some pushed ahead alone. The warrioress took her lovers bundle wrapped in cloth for the corpse. She placed it across her saddle and then led the horse through the court. Many made the signed cross as she passed them one by one. The gate soldiers looked away as she saw how they shunned. The clop clop of steady hooves upon the wooden bridge. Across the open field she rode heading for the ridge. By now the crowd and soldiers went to view the mess. A bucket of soap and water for the cleanup that was left. A cry went out and a garrison left the town. For after examination, there was no blood there to be found. The Masked Writer <o.-> <-.-> oh well hehehe (C) 2001 T Lovett |