No Escape

He pounded upon the metal door, his fists burning with pain.  He knew it was true but would not accept it, he was destined to die in the damp and dreary place, destined to never see the sun before his head was parted from his shoulders.  He wondered why, he couldn't understand.  As his entire body became agitated and angry, he could do nothing.  He kicked and bashed against the door bruises and sprains he ignored.  The night passed by slowly as he thought of his family waiting for him in heaven, but if there was a heaven, why would he, such an innocent man of peace and good will be brutaly murdered for a crime that he did not commit.  He had calmed down.  There was no escape, and if he panicked and doubted his God whom he had loved all his life there would be no escape for the rest of eternity, he'd not be able to escape hell's fires and reptiles. 

As the night dragged on, without a wink of sleep he considered what death would be like.  Nightmare characters from his childhood flooded his mind, a hooded black figure crouched over a scythe made of bone, was this really the image of death?  He'd seen his last sunset, and would never again see it rise.  He was due to be excecuted at 6:00, by being beheaded.  He had been convicted of crimes such as theft and murder, yet he was an honest man and was innocent, proven guilty by false evidence.  He was scared, terrorfied at what death would bring him, where his soul would go, who he would meet, would it hurt?  Death he thought, would not solve anything.  Murdering for murder.  He had always been against it being a man of the Church.  The clock church clock chimed five.  That was almost the last time he'd hear those bells, tolling in the tower, startling the ravens and rooks, the house of god. 

Not long after, he heard movement in the corridor.  He held his hands together in prayer, praying and praying, his last attempt to enter his spirit into a world of heaven.  The metal door swung open, and guards came in.  There were three, all armed and all with a sympathetic look.  He knew the guards were on his side, and his excecution was not in their favour.  He stood up, his hands still together and his lips mouthing unheard words to God. 

A raven perched on the gallows, eagerly waiting.  He sighed, drawing in and holding a breath that stayed stale in his lungs.  He let it out slowly as he walked towards the block, trembling and still praying.  There were crowds of murmuring people, wearing black.  Shaking uncontrollably, he stepped up and sank to his knees, looking up at the masked figure.  He tried to smile but his lips were tight with fear. 
"I'll make it quick." the masked man whispered into his ear, with a tone of regret.  Icy fingers touched his soul as the clock began to strike.  The square was quiet, together mourning for his death with silence.  Two, three, four chimes.  Five, six.  It was over.