Qu’ils Mangent de la Brioche
Chains dragging her back, darkness and a blood stained fabric yanking her back further into the dark.
When her eyes flutter open, she can hear scissors closing and opening next to her ear, retreating back and another snipping sound behind her head. A weight is lifted off of her shoulders, her brown locks of hair fall onto the floor. The fabric she smelled earlier is tied to keep her mouth shut, the heavy scent of rust fills her senses and she can only smell that in the room, other than the dirt and waste. She doesn’t move much, her movements are slow, dull. With a pair of scissors near her neck, she doesn’t turn around to see the person who’s snipping away at her hair. Her previously long and beautiful strands of hair being torn apart hastily by a pair of rusty scissors. Once the final bundle of hair falls and air envelops her neck in a cold embrace, her vision is blocked out with a bag tossed over her head.
Chiasa’s protests are muffled, and she is forced to stand and a pair of rough hands drag her out of the room. Her wrists are tied behind her, all of her senses are shut out to the world and she can only hear a distant uproar of a crowd, an “Upupu..” behind her. The crowd’s yelling grows louder, she can hear what they’re yelling at her.
Off with her head. Murderer.
Straight to the guillotine. Murderer.
She’s forcibly stopped, and she stumbles forward a little to feel something hard hit her cheek. A rock. Chiasa is pulled back roughly before she can fall and the bag is pulled off, hair flying upwards and her eyes flutter to adjust to the sudden light. The wind is crisp, causing her to shudder and she looks around her. People with hatred in their eyes, their faces mixed up in several emotions of rage, sympathy and disbelief. Her laughter and voice are muffled by the fabric, and before she can do anything else, she’s shoved into an open carriage.
Grimy hands reach for her feet before she’s fully in, scratching at her ankles and bone. The carriage door shuts and she looks before her to see streets filled with people. The horses start their stride towards her death and the more she looks, the more she sees the figures had things in their hands. Fruit, vegetables, rocks, eggs and glass shards. Before she can take it in, they start swinging their arms. The rocks hit her face, causing small bruises to blossom onto her pale cheeks, the shards of glass scratch at her dress fabric and causes her blood to shed, an exhilarated roar goes throughout the crowd. Different objects splatter her, some missing and hitting the carriage instead, but most of them land on her.
With blood running down her face, tomato stains, and fresh bruises, she’s assisted off of the carriage and dragged once more. She resists with all of her might, alas she is tossed onto a wooden stage. Before her, stands the guillotine. The blade ready to meet her neck, the executioner, Monobear, standing next to her. Before she can get up and run off of the stage, she is yanked back by someone pulling on her hair. She is held up, like a prize to the crowd. Another cheer resounds and she is pulled over to the guillotine.
Before she is rested onto the frame, the blood stained fabric pulls away from her mouth. The corners of her mouth twitch up and she grins.
“You’ll all pay for this.” Her mouth curls up into a sneer, and she is finally hauled onto the frame of the guillotine. Her neck is locked into place, she can only gaze at the sky before closing her eyes. The blade drops, all she can hear is the crowd yelling once more in excitement and Monobear laughing.
Her head drops into the basket, a placid and calm expression remains on her pale face. Blood runs down the stage and onto the dirt covered streets.
Chiasa Matsushita is dead.
