The End of Summer

Tic by monotonous tic they accumulated. Seconds became minutes and tic by tic, minutes became hours. After one day, nine hours, and forty-two minutes of dark, dank, and rat-infested confinement, Carl Summer’s life was steadily running out of tics.

Summer was guilty of bestiality with the mayor’s pet ewe, Sweet Pea, for which he would experience one of two punishments: burned at the stake or beheading. The mayor, exercising compassion, opted for the less painful and more expedient method.

When the scheduled time arrived, Summer was taken to the village square where, before a multitude of riled up vengeance seekers, he awaited a fateful embrace by the merciless Madame La Guillotine.

Summer was strapped prone to a wooden plank in such a way his head overhung its edge. Caution was taken to insure he would not suffer injury as his head was secured in place with a pillory.

The sheep-shagger’s last words were directed to the mayor. “Please, kind sir, find it in your heart to forgive what I did with Sweet Pea. I meant no harm.”

A deafening cry from the multitude made it clear forgiveness was not an option; they came to see blood. A solemn nod from the mayor signaled to the executioner there would be no pardons. The blade release lever was disengaged.

Effortlessly, Madame’s heavy steel blade began its speedy free-fall journey. Summer heard a split-instant crescendoing echo as the blade neared; his eyes bulged in fearful anticipation. Performing the deed for which it was painstakingly honed, the blade struck the back of Summer’s neck and sliced through it with ease. Cheering erupted. Madame La Guillotine did not disappoint.

As Summer’s head fell into a whicker basket, he proceeded to die. But he would not die completely until the oxygen in his brain was exhausted (possibly as long as several seconds). In those fleeting seconds his sight and hearing waned to blind silence. It is possible, in those briefest of seconds, he might have seen the basket’s tightly woven straps of blood-stained rattan and, as well, he might have heard the bloodthirsty crowd cheering wildly their grotesque approval. To excite further, the executioner held Summer’s head at arm’s length for all to goggle. His act was met with loud impromptu chanting and roars.

Ultimately, Summer was stripped naked of the one piece tunic he wore. As flies buzzed about and upon his severed head and bloody neck-stump, he was carted off to a pigsty where a team of hungry oinkers heartily feasted. In the interim, standing alone within a fenced pasture, Sweet Pea wept.

WC: 430