Ta Voix

Thus comes the day I am to die.

I squat in my cold, stone prison, my numb hands cupped over my knees. My unkempt beard begins to itch. I reach my skeletal fingers in amongst the wiry hairs and search. I pull out a large, round and hardened creature. It has a strong shell for a body and a long, protruding appendage jutting out from its disproportionately minute head. The creature silently squirms between my fingers. It is in pain, I know that much, but its

biological disadvantages prevent it from making any noise that would indicate such discomfort. I close my eyes and imagine the creature shrieking at the top of its lungs, screaming in agony as it convulses in my hand. I open my eyes again and stare intently at it. The creature writhes as I hold it tightly between forefinger and thumb, but remains silent. I drop it onto the ground and it scuttles away into the shadows. I doubt I will see it again.

Why am I here? Do you want to know? I won’t tell you. I dislike lingering on the past. The only thing that matters now is that I’m here, and will be dead soon anyway. Soon I shall be publicly beheaded as punishment for my perceived crimes. Soon I will cross over to the other side. I do not fear it; I am ready. I have made my peace with God. My imprisonment has left me with ample time for prayer. I have confessed my many sins to the Almighty in the hope that I will be absolved and join Him in Heaven. I will walk with Him, side by side, through the gates of His Kingdom and I will at last know contentment. I will be truly free.

I glance dejectedly over to my so-called bed. A dirty, moth-eaten blanket, stained by the previous user, lies crumpled on a thin pile of straw. I look away; I have no desire to sleep now. Through the bars of my prison cell I see an empty gaol. There is not a single soul occupying any of the other cells. Even the broad-chested gaoler waits outside in the courtyard. I am alone, thank God. I do not want to spend my final moments surrounded by criminals and drunkards. All I want is peace; peace and acceptance from my Lord.

From behind the thick wooden door that separates the prison and the outside world, I hear a heavy bolt slide, and the sound of a key turning in a rusted lock. It is time. The door lies open with a crash and the gaoler stands in the frame, his muscular body strong as the walls of my cell. He stomps over to me and leers, his rough hands gripping the prison bars tightly. A quiet cough echoes through the room and he turns.

A gentleman gazes at us from the open door. Dressed in the finest clothing, the man wears a white wig and a self-important smirk.

‘Are we ready to commence?’ he asks with a high-pitched, nasally voice. The gaoler’s intimidating attitude turns automatically into one of grovelling.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ the gaoler snivels, unlocking my cell. He throws the door wide open and it hits the wall with a spectacular clang.

‘Come here,’ he commands, his finger gesturing to the space just in front of him.

I limp towards him and he binds my wrists with a thick, coarse rope that scratches my skin. His hand on my shoulder, he leads me out of the door. The gentleman follows close behind, undoubtedly regarding me with contempt.

We are outside now. The sudden sunlight startles me and I instinctively thrust my bound hands upwards to cover my eyes from the pain. The gaoler tugs them back down and shoots me a glare. I should not have done that.

We trudge along a muddy track, my feet sinking further and further with every step. We reach a square courtyard, a raised platform standing in the centre. Atop, a man with an axe awaits, his face contorted with terrifying glee. Cobbled walls stand imposingly all around me and the entire place is filled with angry spectators, who watch me with eyes full of hate. A clear sky has opened up – no doubt getting ready to accept me to that heavenly realm. The crowd jeers at me as I ascend the steps to the chopping block.

I should be afraid, but all I can focus on is that sky. There is not a cloud in sight. A bright blue canvas gazes down upon me as I take my first tentative steps towards the block. The sun warms my pale face as I lay my head onto the splintered wood and a quiet sense of joy fills my feeble body. I can hear the axe rise above my head. I shut my eyes tight and a wide smile fixes itself onto my face. My time here is over. All the suffering will end and I will join my gracious Lord. I am ready. I hear the blade slice the air as the axe falls.

My God. It isn’t possible. It can’t be. Still here. I am still here.

I remain tethered to this mortal coil! It can’t be so! My eyelids part and I stare at the bright blue sky once again. It hasn’t changed. It remains as blue as ever. My eyes fill with tears that drip down my cold cheeks. I feel nothing. Nothing. I feel nothing below my chin. I force my eyes to move and I see the chopping block. It is higher than before and stained scarlet. I see the bloodied stump of my neck gaze back at me.

Why?

Why am I still here? Did it not work? Have I offended my Lord? What could I have done to deserve this?

Flash.

A flash of light. I sense it. It is…

I am accepted!

I will be next to Him. My Lord. I will be beside Him! His

But, no! The light is gone. I am not there. I am here. I am still here.

Then it happens. The once blue sky fills with the blackest of clouds, massive and dark. Not a speck of blue is visible. Rain pours down and strikes me, though I can barely feel it now. All the warmth drains from me. I close my eyes once again in some desperate hope that I might be accepted. It must be a mistake; it must! God can’t have disowned me! As the lids of my eyes meet once again, I see nothing but blackness. It is a black darker than I could have ever

imagined. Then, as the rain batters my face ferociously, the blackness morphs into a deep dark red. It is the red of blood; the red of blood. As the sound of the rain fades from my ears and the rest of the world goes silent…

I hear a quiet cackle welcoming me with glee.