10) TORPOR - Abscission
I'm in the middle of a green pasture lit by torches and moonlight. There are men on either side of me, their strong arms hooked under my shoulders. I am being dragged through a crowd of people all yelling and spitting and carrying on. A man wearing a black hood is standing on a platform 20 paces in front of me. He walks to an iron brazier, brightly lit with fire. Aggressive contours of the hooded man's face are revealed in the relief of glowing yellow reflection and shadow. With each step I try to find words in the cacophony, but I can't find the beginning or end of any syllable, it's a guttural smear of speech. Closer, closer, I'm not fighting the direction of momentum. I'm pressed against a pine wood pole, my arms pulled backward with enough force to tear the muscle in my chest. Course, splintering rope is wrapped around my wrists behind the pole and I am spread open, heart exposed to waves of flowing hatred. I am blindfolded, the noise is louder. There is heat on my heels, for a moment comforting on the briskly cool night. Then pain as the fabric against my skin is consumed by hungry flame. Moments, moments, the fire licks up my body, cooking skin, melting fat. The sound is now coming from me, louder and stronger than the mob, but it again has no words. It is simply a noise transforming my lifesblood into wet heat and air.
I feel nothing now. I have learned nothing.
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