May I Speak My Truth?

• Eve McDonald, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

“Might I speak my truth, if I am not killed for it?”

The unsteadiness on the rickety scaffold and cold, soaked ends of my skirts chilled me all the way to my guilty core. The faces of many people, all different ages and sizes watch as I prepare my statement. They’re thinking I’m going to prove my innocence. My truth will be my innocence. I could never be innocent. But I can give a fantastically morbid show that can hang more people than just myself.

“Speak while you can, these are your last words.” My executor says sternly.

I smile and turn to the crowd, “Welcome friends!” There is silence from the audience.

“Won’t you welcome your entertainment for the morning? I know it’s a bit early for a murder but we might as well enjoy it, don’t you think Sir?” I gesture to a bigger, hairy man who looks as if he’s come straight from his butcher shop with blood up his sleeves and on his shoes. Looks as if he smells like a butcher shop too, no one is standing directly near him. Other than a little boy in his arms, maybe six, he looks small.

“Show us under your skirt when you dangle from the ropes, Lovely!” Butcher Man states with gusto. The men laugh, their wives try to look pleased for their husbands.

“Well, you’ll get the view, good Sir. But for you to get the view, I must see your boy in the same place! I’m sure he’d find the hanging bit quite enjoyable!” I yell back, with twice as much enthusiasm.

The boy starts laughing, he doesn’t understand what I have said. Butcher Man however took the boy and ran. He began sobbing into the boy’s hair, yelling at him to stop laughing, it’s not funny, she wants to hurt you. It’s not working, the boy laughs still, unknown to the fact his protector is sobbing over his safety and little frame.

“Good riddance, Sir! Does anyone else have anything to say?” They stay silent in fear and shock and disgust.

“Now then, who else wants to see me dangle? I know you do, Mr Executioner!” The Executioner was nervous when I called upon him. He was afraid of me. It’s not like everyone else wasn’t.

“I’d like it if you let me do my job, Miss.” The executioner muttered apprehensively.

“Well, if seeing me dangle is your job, you should do it Mister.” He put the noose around my neck, tightening it just enough to stop my head from going back out the rope.
I stood on the trapdoor of my impending doom and looked at the attentive faces of my audience.

“Good day to you all. I hope you know you’re hanging an eccentric and not a psychopath. And my truth is I-” I fell through the trap door with a tightening rope around my neck. A collar too tight, a floor too far and a truth unspoken.