The Town Square
I turned the corner and walked into the town square cluttered with people. The street seemed colder, more mournful with the event that was about to take place. The people were filled with anger and hatred although I’m not sure they even knew why. I felt sorry and so helpless when I saw the tied up man quivering with fear while still trying to look brave and proud to keep his dignity.
There was nothing I could do…I’m no hero…I couldn’t be courageous if my own life depended on it let alone someone else’s. If I was able to stop the sharp, glistening blade of the guillotine and save the poor man’s soul…I would surely be its next bloody victim, once again being helpless. I stood watching… Wondering… what had been his crime? He looked young, handsome and so innocent, but I guess looks can be deceiving.
I walked over to another by stander, he looked different from the others…the others who were shouting out words of anger. The man looked puzzled much like I did and also looked sad and helpless. I asked him what had the man’s crime been. As he answered me his voice started to quiver and tears came to his eyes. “That man is my brother” he replied. “He did no harm!” his eyes turned red and tears streamed down his face…I suddenly felt so guilty as if I had done something that I hadn’t. He said, “My brother merely questioned the government…you know how it is. They never listen to the people. We’re like pebbles under their feet that they can’t bother with.” I felt sorry for the man…and I too felt tears coming to my eyes in sympathy of the man and his soon dead brother.
I left the man, as he looked like he didn’t want company in this situation, and walked deeper into the crowd of people as if they were at a carnival. Everyone shouted at the prisoner and the man with a black mask who held him with such strength. The air felt so warm and smelled sweaty with all the clutter of people around, I wished I hadn’t come so deep into the crowd, because there was little hope I’d make it out soon. I guess I may as well stay for the event then.
People pushed and shoved to get closer…but why? Are they that fascinated with death? It made me feel a little sick; I almost wish I had never come here.
Suddenly the crowd got louder. I raised my head and looked to the platform to see the man in the black mask pulling on the rope, raising the blade…slowly, up it rose…up to the sun…glistening in it’s light. “Do you have any last words before you die?” the masked man asked. The tied up man bravely and loudly said “Yes I do. I was standing up for you people…for your rights…for your freedom…I was trying to make our lives better and easier, yet all you can do is rage like animals in the event my death? It sickens me to hear your shouts…it shames me to be trying to stand up for you. I bid you good bye cruel world… ”
Then the crowd was almost silent…nobody yelled their anger, merely silenced their sorrow. Nevertheless he still had to be killed. He crouched down placing his head in the crevice at the bottom of the guillotine and took one last deep breath. The rope was released and the blade fell. In what seemed seconds the blade hit the mans neck cutting deep into his delicate skin, and his head fell heavily to the basket which lay below…the crowd no longer shout with anger…merely stayed silent and mourned his death.
As I walked away from the town square I saw the man’s brother once again…he had tears streaming down his face. I walked over to him and said, “Your brother was courageous, and he didn’t deserve to die…” I tried to comfort him, but it didn’t seem to help. I then walked away from the man, the crowd, and the square as I too started to cry.

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