Tied to rough wood, your back becomes scratched through the thin material of your shirt as you squirm. People around you stare, their eyes accusing and angry. The rope that binds you hand rubs against your skin and without looking, you know that your skin is already turning an angry red. Slowly at a dauntingly slow pace, workers pile dry timber around you, their faces emotionless. Time drags on and ignoring the hushed whispers in the crowd you look up at the sky once more, watching the light white clouds float by.
Finally, a voice drifts into your ears and it booms. The smooth and blunt words are muted and panic strikes your body again. Along with the voice, the crowd slowly grows louder, their voices accusing as their eyes were. A grim feeling settles over you, the same one that drowned you while you were held the stony prison earlier. There is nothing that you can do, nothing else that you can say, as you watch a man approach. This man's face is grim but the victorious glint in his eyes send shivers down your back.
With every step the man takes, his golden cross glitters in the sun. The sun that you will never see again. The sun that will never warm your skin in the cold mornings. Every step sounds echoed as his feet pound against the dirt ground. Lifting your head to meet the man's eyes, you hold back a flinch as the torch hits the pile of wood that surrounds you.
At first, the fire sputtered. A small flutter of hope rises in your throat but it drops violently as the flame begins to devour the timber. Heat creeps towards you and slowly, your eyelids slide close and you wait. There is nothing that you can do, nothing else you can say.
Cheers are drowned out by the crackling of the fire and fear petrifies you. The thudding of more wood landing in the fire is one of the few things you can even understand. Frozen, both in mind and body, you do not flail as the fire begins to lick at your clothes. You do not flinch as the fire begins to burn your skin, sending burning pain. But a piercing cry jolts you and your eyes fly open.
Choking on the thick haze of smoke and blinking rapidly, you spot the outline of someone crying. Your mind cannot even think and wonder who is crying, only why that person was crying. The wailing fills the air as is slowly smoothes into a sad song. Closing your eyes and ignoring the stinging, you silently thank the voice for the distraction as the fire reaches higher and higher.
Eventually, you lose the feeling in your legs and you know that they are burnt off. The burning feeling in your body is already numbing. Your smoked filled eyes open but droop close and your throat is sore and a burning sensation lights up as the heat creeps closer. The last wisp of oxygen is devoured by the fire and you know you are close to death. The world burns and you slowly turn to ash.
