The bell tolled. Every pitiful moan, desperate cry and aching scream ceased for the tolling of the bell as it escorted a wretched soul to its fate. Once the bell fell silent, a rousing cheer echoed through the walls, down every passage, through every cell to where Jack lay on a bed of straw, not moving other than his chest heaving slowly as he stared up at the stone ceiling.
His shackled feet were bloody from sores that were left untreated; dried up, crusty blood covered the chains and the floor which made a tasty treat for the rats that scurried around freely without fear, even nibbling at Jack’s toes before he violently kicked them away. Other than that he was still, counting the tolls, imagining the drop as the rope tightened around his neck, wondering how long he would swing before he was no more.
But, he had no one else to blame. It was his fault entirely that he lay inside the four walls of the prison without seeing the blue sky since his arrival, which he guessed was seventeen days ago going by the meagre lump of rock hard, stale mouldy bread he was given once a day.
But was it worth it? A wry smile crept over Jack’s dirty, handsome face, remembering how he was most feared, most talked about and most admired. The bounty on his head had never been seen before. That was cause for celebration, not commiseration.
He was the famous highwayman. He would live on, long after the tolling bell. With that thought, Jack spent his last night sleeping peacefully.
Flash!Friday and this week is all a matter of perspective from Rebekah Postupak where you can visit for more tales and different perspectives on the picture. xx