Dance
It’s a cruel melody when you are doomed to die. I sing and dance for the entertainment of my tormentors. Their twisted faces leering at me as I twirl and dip, my suggestive skirts swirling around my bare thighs.
The music is drowned out by the banging of crude ale cups and weapon hilts. My step falters in fear, my eyes dart around the savage faces blurring as I spin down to crouch on the sticky table top.
My breath pants against the seer purple material covering my nose and mouth, sweat beads on my forehead and trails down my temples. My heart is hammering against my knee, my limbs shaking with the effort to stay still.
The men around me were quiet, the sound of them slurping their tasteless spirits and eating their burnt meats filling my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on my breathing. My eyes opened a moment later when a loud booming voice bid me to stand.
My knees shook with effort and I rose shakily to my feet, my hands by my sides, my head down as I waited for the verdict of my faith.
His voice boomed over me, causing me to flinch, the men laughed at my expense. I flushed angrily but wisely kept quiet, hiding the sight of my eyes from my tormentors.
I felt a hand on my ankle, I resisted the urge to kick it off me. The feel of the slippery wet skin sliding against me caused me to shudder, a sickness to rise up my throat. I viciously pushed it down and the hand retreated back to its owner.
A loud crash sounded in front of me, I jolted and my head jerked up to see the leader of them approaching me, his weapon held at his side. The blood stained blade captured my attention as he raised the sword above my head. I met his soulless eyes as the blade came down with a shrill whistle, or was that merely my scream?