When they brought him and his companions in, up to the scaffold, there was six of them, but it seemed they wanted to stretch the entertainment, there was only one noose.

When they grabbed the first one, they did the usual, tied his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the whole thing start and put him on the chair to read out his sentence.

Though, with the rate the whole business was going, he considered, there would be about five minutes till they got to him. Five minutes, it suddenly felt like the greatest wealth of time, an unspeakable wealth that had to still melt away before his passing.

In the first minute, he decided to divide his time, what would be left. Two minutes to give his last farewells to his comrades: some stoic nods, some reassuring mumbles, a half a minute of silence for those that already departed. The next minute, he left for himself: he thought back on all that he did, on what could have gone better, what could have gone worse and thankfully didn't. Unfortunately, his mind had become possessed, unable to comprehend how HE, a living, breathing, thinking man would be no more in just a couple more minutes, wasting his time on pointless anxiety, something he cursed himself for.

He stood at the platform, another one of his comrades nodding and trudging up the wooden stairs, as he himself observed his surroundings. One of the nearby windows had reflected the morning sunlight into his eyes, and so he looked back at it, unable to look away, utterly sure that soon, just in a few more moments, his very being would be that light. It must have been true, he thought, of course, it all makes sense now, this is where it culminates.

"Find you guilty of..."

His head hurt like mad, if he did not wish to live so much, he would have probably already told them to get on with it. Even with the migraine, he suddenly felt like he could remember every detail, life had rushed in with a terrible clarity into his lungs, into his heart, into his mind. The rope cut into his wrists, granting only more discomfort.

One of the executioners, a man with a very sad face, waved to him. He was the final one. He was unsure if this made it better or worse, being the last, no one to follow in after you, yet the one with the most time. As he stepped up, he shrugged off the blindfold offered by the melancholic executioner. He would rather see it happen, felt right.

The rope was around his neck and the other executioner flipped one of the pages with the verdicts, but he could not bear to listen, his mind drifting off into that nightmarish state of clarity and yet dream-like wonder.

"Counter-revolutionary activity..."

Ah, of course, that little thing, he expected that to ring out for sure. They always threw that one around a lot. Good way to make you sound like the enemy, really good. Top-notch stuff, he thought to himself bitterly.

"You are sentenced..."

Funny, he considered. Funny that you sentence me with a rope around my neck as if this was not predetermined.

"-final words?"

He looked at the people, searing this image into his retinas before closing his eyes. He thought back again, thought what would give it all some meaning, in the end, give him some closure.

"For Lugnic-"

WHOOSH

snap