Go figure.
So have fun reading what I came up with in about three hours and keep posted for the next short story I've taken three days to write for English Class!
I was walking down the main street
in Paris when I saw a death cart bumping alone with its prisoner tense in the
back. I looked on, trying to ignore it, but then I heard laughter. I looked at
the passenger and to my surprise it was Marie Antoinette. Others laughed at her
while I could not even move. I understood where she was going, and how it would
affect the world around us. She caught my eye and weakly smiled, and I knew
that she understood too.
When she was gone, I continued on
my way, trying to put it out of mind that she was going to the guillotine. I
didn’t blame the people for wanting her dead, but I couldn’t stand the fact
that people were decapitated every other day. I was shaking my head when I
walked into my house that I shared with ten other people.
“Gabriel’s home,” I heard a little
girl yell and five other voices cheered. My mother walked through the only
doorway wiping her hands on her skirts.
“I brought the bread you wanted me
to bring,” I said, handing her the small loaf that cost me a week’s wages.
“Thank you, Gabriel. This Reign of
Terror is hard on everyone.” She took the loaf and left me alone in the front
room. I followed her into the other room to find it was empty, and all the
other kids were outside playing.
“Mother, Marie Antoinette was taken
to the guillotine today.”
She flipped around and smiled. “At
least that problem is taken care of, the only person left is Robespierre.” She
went back to pulling small pieces off the loaf and called the kids in from the
yard out back. Greedily, they took their small bites and savored them.
“How could you say such a thing?” I
asked once the children were gone and back to playing outside. “They’re going
to die, and that’s not right!”
“I say that because they are the
one’s responsible for our situation. I have eleven children, eight of them orphans,
to take care of and only your salary to live off of. You don’t get it do you?”
“Yes, I do, it’s just that people
should not have their heads chopped off because they did something wrong.”
“It’s not worth fighting me for
your opinion. You have work to do so get to it.”
I sighed and left the house to get
back to my low paying job: Cleaning the execution grounds for the next
beheading victim.
Someone had left a list of people
who were going to be next: Georges Danton was going to be killed next for his
challenge of the Terror. People began showing up as I began cleaning the raised
platform where the guillotine stood. Marie’s blood was still on the blade and
my heart dropped.
Months went by, and my small family
had been reduced to five, the other children dying from starvation. I was on my
way home from a long day of work (this time digging holes to place bodies in)
when I was handed a piece of paper.
It was the decree for my mother’s
death and the deaths of the two oldest of the children.
“No,” I whispered and ran home as
fast as I could.
I arrived just as they were being
taken to the cart and Aline was already bound and sitting in the cart. Mother
was the last one in, and I could swear she had a defiant look in her eye. The
last three children, all under the age of nine, were clustered at the doorway
with tears in their eyes.
One of the soldiers walked up to
me, all in his shiny new uniform. “Are you Gabrielle’s son?” I nodded and he
saluted me. “You are to report back to the execution grounds right away.”
I felt my heart drop into my
stomach. “Right away?”
“Right at this moment,” he said and
turned away from me.
I saw Aline wave goodbye to me, and
my mother shook her head. I didn’t know what to do- I couldn’t leave the others
at home alone, but I couldn’t ignore the summons. The kids looked to me for
help and I tried to smile. “William,” I said to the oldest. “You’re in charge
until I get back. Don’t go outside until I return.”
Paul, the smallest began to protest
that it was May now, and that it was fun to play outside now, but I cut him
off. “No, you are going to stay inside. Don’t open the doors, don’t let
anything in through the windows, and don’t talk to anyone.” I locked the door
as I went out, worried that they wouldn’t listen to me- though my hopes were
centered on little Marilyn keeping them in check.
When I got back to the platform to
report in, Mother was the up first. Aline and Vincent were standing at the base
of the stair, waiting for their turn. Mother had her chin high, as if she had
something to be proud of. She was placed on the guillotine, her arms and legs
bound. Then, a swish though the air and the blade came down on her neck. People
cheered and clapped, while Aline and Vincent flinched. Aline was the next one,
since she was sixteen now- a whole two years younger than me. I began to cry
for my sister when I saw her head fall off. Vincent was pushed up the stairs
roughly and he pushed away, going up the stairs himself. He was always the one with so much pride, I thought. Fifteen years is too young to have your head
chopped off. The end came quickly, and the giant crowd dispersed just as
fast. Someone came and told me that I had to clean everything up, and I nodded.
It was almost dark when I managed
to leave, and I got home to find that while I was gone, Paul had left. Marilyn
was crying, clutching to my pants, telling me she was sorry for not keeping him
inside. “All is well, Marilyn; it’s only William, you, and me left; we can hang
in there.” She nodded, wiping her eyes on the hem of her thread-bare sleeve.
June came around, and the tensions
rose even higher. William had been taken by now, and I had to put Marilyn in a
home where she could be watched more. I was all alone in the tiny house, with
nothing to eat and nothing to do except work.
Then, my final day came: The last
day I would be working.
The paper was pushed through the
broken window and it fluttered down into my hands. It told me that Robespierre
was going to be executed today, but it had a long list of names that I only
scanned until I found one that looked all too familiar:
My own name.
I knew I couldn’t do anything about
it, so I waited until the death cart showed up to get me. I knew I should have
felt afraid, but for some reason I didn’t.
I felt relived. I wouldn’t be stuck
starving to death, watching all of my family disappear before me. I sat in my only
chair, just waiting, until a knock came.
I answered it, and it was the same
shiny soldier from when he came to take my brother, sister, and mother. He
nodded solemnly and I held out my hands in defeat.
The ride to the platform was long, as
we had to pick up many other people who had been called to die. When we got
there, Robespierre was the first to die, and in my heart, I knew the Reign of
Terror was over. Third to go was the beautiful Princess of Monaco, her beauty
giving a new light to the horrible capital of this corrupt country.
I was the tenth out of thirty, and
I marched up the steps proudly, just as my mother had, and I was going to take
this with my head held high- metaphorically speaking.
Thank
you for this, I thought right before the blade sliced through my neck.
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