Condemned - short story

Cold, dark silence. The smell of damp infected everything. Weary, alone, scared. A warm ray of light entered the room through a small window. Three beams cast their glow across the floor, divided by the iron bars that framed them. Dawn was here. Today is the day I’m condemned to die. An innocent woman accused of a crime I did not commit.

I sat there on the floor, staring at my hands. Thin, cracked and bleeding, my wrists ached from the weight of the iron clad shackles I have worn for the past year. How have I survived this long in this hellish place? Why can’t I die here in this room, away from the shame of the procession? The final walk to my death. Why can’t I be spared that horrible fate?

The waiting had been maddening. Alone with my thoughts, my biggest critic, my only friend. Everyone who cares about me have been powerless to halt my impending doom. Perhaps I deserve this. At least it’ll be over, and I’ll be with her again. I have clung to my grief over losing you, craving the pain of emptiness because I fear I will never feel again without it. At least we will be reunited again, away from all the hate and fear we lived in for those few months we were together. Why this judgement? Why this pain? All we ever did was love one other, and all he ever did was take you away from me. The jealous fool. Here I am, accused of his crime. I’ll find him in the crowd today and stare into his eyes when I die, and I will curse him into the pits of hell.

The heavy clank of a key snaps me out of my thoughts. The time has come for me to begin my final journey. I weakly stand, ready to be taken down to the street below, where I can hear the hungry screams of those waiting for their entertainment. It's not every day you get to see a noblewoman hanged. Yes, what joy for them. No doubt they’ll talk and laugh about it tonight as they drink their warm, watered-down ale from a dirty tankard. I clench my fists in silent rage. I close my eyes to calm my thoughts. They burn from the pain of crying all night. I am scared and alone, but no more tears now. It is time I face this fate of mine emotionless. I cannot allow him to see my grief and humiliation.

I walk down the narrow stone stairs, behind the guard. He leads me towards a wooden door and turns to look at me. He frowns. “I’m sorry ma’am.” He opens the door, the light blinds me, forcing me to shield my eyes as I gingerly step out. My hands are quickly tugged away from my face, as I am pulled forward by my shackles onto my knees. I am consumed by the crowd.

My walk has begun.