Read Online Dear Muse (Those Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy Book 1) by Shawn Mackey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shawn Mackey
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19
No matter how accustomed to the prospect of death, I take comfort knowing torture will forever turn my stomach. Judging by the long discussion this morning over who should be the one to flay Finney, I am not alone in my disgust. In the end, the deed was done by the mayor, my uncle, Gerald, Bertram, James, Ned, and Vern. The last three were previously on Finney’s side, taking part to assuage their guilt and show where their allegiances now lie.
Before pronouncing the sentence, the mayor thanked my uncle and Father, especially Father. He went on about his eternal gratitude, how he had made a new lifelong friend, and despite his past, there was no doubt he was a brave individual. There were plenty of nods of agreement and applause. Somebody even pat me on the shoulder.
The entire town was forced to watch, including the children. The girls huddled around me, crying and wiping their tears on my skirt. My sweaty palm clasped tight to Aiden’s hand. If I had let go, I was sure he would have taken part in the gruesome slaughter. Then again, Father promised my uncle he would partake, but silently declined when it was his turn. I could not blame him. At that point, Finney’s howling had become as draining to the soul as the sight of flaps of skin hanging off the rack, amassing hundreds of flies. After the executioner peeled back a layer of flesh, he would swat the meddlesome insects swarming around his sweaty face, buzzing around their prospective meal.
They dragged the corpse to the edge of town, the body a slimy red husk of a human. Since they had taken the ceremony this far, it would have been a waste not to tie its limbs to horses. Most people turned away when the mayor sent the animals running, myself included, though I heard the wet cracking of bones over the whinnying and clattering hooves.
The walk back was solemn for all. The execution succeeded. There was no talk of leaving. On the contrary, a few murmurs were subjected to exploring the caverns before sundown. They spent the day marking trees and checking soil, and by night, according to Aiden, someone had cracked a joke about Finney’s cock being split in two. The laughter dissolved any uncomfortableness, I assume. Tomorrow is business as usual.
Meanwhile, I had a distressed classroom to deal with. To my surprise, the children seemed to comprehend the situation, at least on the surface. The bad man had to die, one of them said. I was spared the task of explaining the ludicrousness of justice; however, the method stirred their fascination. A bit too much. David’s excitement caused poor Phoebe to break into fresh tears.
Hailey talked about the time she pricked her finger, and all the blood that came out, and how badly it hurt. How does it feel across your whole body? I assured her, she would never have to find out as long as she continued to behave. Did Finney go to heaven? What about Gwen? Why did Finney kill Gwen? Why did people think my father killed her? Why did the mayor speak so highly of my father if he tried to kill his wife? Why do their parents hate my father?
I was savagely berated with questions. There was only one way to stop them. I simply told them to go home and walked away. If their parents wanted to know why I gifted them with such bundles of joy so early, they had my weak stomach to thank. The mayor and my uncle had words for me later, but I did not register a single one.
The obnoxious stench has returned, with its tinge of sweetness, like the aroma of decay. Did they bother to bury the body? No doubt the howling wolves will keep me up, fighting over the maggot ridden limbs of Finney. And to think, tomorrow’s dinner is roasted pig on spittle. These rustic fools sure have a bizarre appetite.
Entry 20
Phoebe, still my favorite student, had more questions than usual today. Most of these concerned the island and its history. For violating our prime law, children are given severe beatings instead of executions, having no real
No matter how accustomed to the prospect of death, I take comfort knowing torture will forever turn my stomach. Judging by the long discussion this morning over who should be the one to flay Finney, I am not alone in my disgust. In the end, the deed was done by the mayor, my uncle, Gerald, Bertram, James, Ned, and Vern. The last three were previously on Finney’s side, taking part to assuage their guilt and show where their allegiances now lie.
Before pronouncing the sentence, the mayor thanked my uncle and Father, especially Father. He went on about his eternal gratitude, how he had made a new lifelong friend, and despite his past, there was no doubt he was a brave individual. There were plenty of nods of agreement and applause. Somebody even pat me on the shoulder.
The entire town was forced to watch, including the children. The girls huddled around me, crying and wiping their tears on my skirt. My sweaty palm clasped tight to Aiden’s hand. If I had let go, I was sure he would have taken part in the gruesome slaughter. Then again, Father promised my uncle he would partake, but silently declined when it was his turn. I could not blame him. At that point, Finney’s howling had become as draining to the soul as the sight of flaps of skin hanging off the rack, amassing hundreds of flies. After the executioner peeled back a layer of flesh, he would swat the meddlesome insects swarming around his sweaty face, buzzing around their prospective meal.
They dragged the corpse to the edge of town, the body a slimy red husk of a human. Since they had taken the ceremony this far, it would have been a waste not to tie its limbs to horses. Most people turned away when the mayor sent the animals running, myself included, though I heard the wet cracking of bones over the whinnying and clattering hooves.
The walk back was solemn for all. The execution succeeded. There was no talk of leaving. On the contrary, a few murmurs were subjected to exploring the caverns before sundown. They spent the day marking trees and checking soil, and by night, according to Aiden, someone had cracked a joke about Finney’s cock being split in two. The laughter dissolved any uncomfortableness, I assume. Tomorrow is business as usual.
Meanwhile, I had a distressed classroom to deal with. To my surprise, the children seemed to comprehend the situation, at least on the surface. The bad man had to die, one of them said. I was spared the task of explaining the ludicrousness of justice; however, the method stirred their fascination. A bit too much. David’s excitement caused poor Phoebe to break into fresh tears.
Hailey talked about the time she pricked her finger, and all the blood that came out, and how badly it hurt. How does it feel across your whole body? I assured her, she would never have to find out as long as she continued to behave. Did Finney go to heaven? What about Gwen? Why did Finney kill Gwen? Why did people think my father killed her? Why did the mayor speak so highly of my father if he tried to kill his wife? Why do their parents hate my father?
I was savagely berated with questions. There was only one way to stop them. I simply told them to go home and walked away. If their parents wanted to know why I gifted them with such bundles of joy so early, they had my weak stomach to thank. The mayor and my uncle had words for me later, but I did not register a single one.
The obnoxious stench has returned, with its tinge of sweetness, like the aroma of decay. Did they bother to bury the body? No doubt the howling wolves will keep me up, fighting over the maggot ridden limbs of Finney. And to think, tomorrow’s dinner is roasted pig on spittle. These rustic fools sure have a bizarre appetite.
Entry 20
Phoebe, still my favorite student, had more questions than usual today. Most of these concerned the island and its history. For violating our prime law, children are given severe beatings instead of executions, having no real
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