| The Unpreventable Hanging Of Ms. Honoka Watanabe; Closed: Because Piss Babies Rule the World | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 31 2016, 06:42 PM (136 Views) | |
| TWC | Jan 31 2016, 06:42 PM Post #1 |
|
Romans 13:4 - For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to [execute] wrath upon him that doeth evil. THE UNPREVENTABLE HANGING OF MS. HONOKA WATANABE The grounds of the fort were quiet; they were devoid of all life save for the neatly cut grass that made up the parade grounds and the ancient oak trees with red and golden leaves. They all swayed in the wind just as the Confederate flags did high above the walls of the fort and just as the hangman’s rope did from the freshly built oak gallows. The rhythmic crashing of foamy waves against the rocks below the fort and a briny perfume that permeated the air made the macabre scene seem peaceful and serene. Alone, appearing from behind a massive iron door was a man dressed in very little (just what was necessary). The butternut specter walked slowly across the parade grounds, each measured step bringing him closer to the gallows, closer to his grand stage. His feet took him to the top of the gibbet and he smiled. In front of the man were rows of bleachers unfolding around him at the hands of sweating soldiers (their empty seats meant excited eyes watching his defining role— The Hangman in... “Hanged by the neck until dead” — he raised his arms and waved at the bleachers, smiling and bowing as if receiving wild applause), they finished quickly and ambled off the parade grounds, talking and laughing about women and war-time. He turned and stared lovingly at the swaying collar. “My love...” he whispered as he took it in his hands. Only the noise of an approaching crowd took his attention away from the dreadful rope. His feet guided him once again, as if autonomous (this time, however, it was down the steps) and planted him at the foot of the gallows, standing at attention. The crowd appeared from the same iron door he did and they crossed the parade grounds exactly like he did. Most were women and children, hands laden with picnic baskets and rolled blankets. The Hangman preferred women and children; they had softer eyes and innocent faces (not like the hard, jaded looks of a man like himself). There were however, two men hidden within the gossiping crowd of housewives and schoolchildren. Stoic, and severe in looks and dress— definitely Federative. He paid them no mind; they were there for a different kind of show. His eyes shifted from the foreigners and across the crowd as they began to find their seats and open their picnic baskets. A mechanical voice called attention to the iron doors and announced monotonously that the accused had been sentenced and it was to be carried out immediately. “Guilty!” the Hangman exulted, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as the iron doors swung open and let two soldiers escape pulling behind them an Asiatic woman, dressed in clothes that may have once been fashionable but were now unwashed and out of style. She was shackled by her hands and feet, and the awkward shuffle was hurried along by the impatient jerks from the soldiers on the chains that connected them to her. The girl was weeping and her yellow face was puffy and flushed. Anticipating her arrival as soon as she came through the iron doors, the Hangman’s feet took control and sent him running up the steps until he reached the summit and stood next to the lever and knot that meant the end of the woman’s life. The crowd laughed at her as she shuffled by them and they jeered and called her names. She only wept harder as she passed, her head held low (chin against her chest). At the foot of the stairs that led to her end, she and the soldiers chained to her paused. They unhooked and threw the fetter to the side then took each of her arms and dragged her up the steps as she pleaded and begged in a language they didn’t care enough to know. The soldiers reached the top and dropped the woman at the center, in front of the Hangman, who looked offended by their treatment of her (“Careful!” he told them with a smile, “She’s my leading lady.”). He shooed the soldiers away and they quickly disappeared down the steps, across the parade grounds and through the iron doors, evaporating into the hazy gloom of the fort’s interior. “Come here my darling, the floor is unbecoming of a rising star such as you.” He said with a toothy smile and an outstretched hand. The sobbing woman took his hand and stood with him, gripping his shirt sleeve and begging again in her foreign tongue for absolution. ‘Shh... shh! My darling, stop with all that. I’m going to make you a star! Trust in me, I’ve done this all before.” She collapsed and he bent over with her, gripping her around the waist and heaving her onto her feet once again. “Don’t... do... that... again... It’s disrespectful to our audience.” The Hangman pushed her backwards, and grabbed the knot from behind her. (He decided (even with her unwillingness to take on the rigors of her starring role) that the choice in casting her was a spectacular one. She looked remarkably like a common Shinosakan (even if she wasn't) and begged like one would. The Hangman was happy to share the stage, he knew in the end her body would preform what she wouldn't do now soon enough) The girl exploded in loud, high pitched sobbing when she saw the Hangman loosen the knot and fit it around her neck. He shushed her again, over and over again until she only shook stared at him with big eyes full of fear. Happy with the tightness around her neck, the Hangman stepped back and looked at her (up and down) one last time. He then stepped towards the lever next to her and announced to the crowd with a booming voice: “Ms. Honoka Watanabe, you are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead for your crimes of sabotage and illegal surveillance against the Grand Confederacy. Do you have anything to say, in response to these charges?” “Please, no!” she wailed. The crowd gasped and then stood cheering and applauding as the Hangman pushed the lever forward and the trap door beneath the woman fell away and her body crashed down towards the earth summoning a horrific cracking sound as her neck caught the rope and snapped her to the side. She struggled and swung back and forth, gasping and croaking as the bones in her neck snapped and shattered, piercing her throat and decapitating her as she struggled against the rope. All around him there were cheers from happy children and mothers alike. They waved their handkerchiefs and whistled at the Hangman as he turned towards the bleachers and bowed deeply several times (basking in the glory) as if the curtain would fall in front of him and he would no longer feel the warmth of this moment ever again. A mechanical voice cut through the rowdy cheers and silenced the giddy onlookers with a stern message: “This woman’s death is a message to the world, as well as to the imperial nation of Shinosaka. This woman’s death symbolizes the loyalty to our Federative ally abroad in this time of extreme hardship. Many more will follow in her path if necessary. Virginia bless the Confederacy, and Virginia bless our friends in the Federative Union!” Edited by TWC, Feb 2 2016, 08:11 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| Akatsuki | Feb 18 2016, 03:01 AM Post #2 |
![]()
|
* * * In the vast expanse of the Pacifica, where even the most distant Ceroulian isles gave way to uninterrupted waves, an unexpected disturbance broke the monotony of the ocean waves. The fish and the whales knew it first, but on the surface, for a few more seconds at least, there was still nothing to concern whatever ghosts or spirits might have been loitering in that empty patch of ocean. Then a geyser erupted from the surface, hanging suspended in the air for a brief second before letting gravity take hold once more and falling away. The long black cylinder revealed in the midst of the jet of water, however, was not about to tumble back into the depths. Well before the mist had cleared, it was replaced by a monstrous plume of smoke, which nonetheless failed to conceal the nearly-blinding flame that produced it. The cylinder hesitated for a split second, as though having second thoughts about breaking free of gravity’s pull entirely, but then with a roar, it was finally gone. After a moment of further indecision, the smoke finally began to dissipate in the breeze. Whatever curiosity the fish or the spirits might have had about the disturbance dissipated with it, and life in the Pacifica quickly returned to its natural, eternal state. As for the SIS Kuroi Suisei, diving once more to escape the slightest chance of retaliation, it was simply another day at the office. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
![]() ZetaBoards gives you all the tools to create a successful discussion community. Learn More · Sign-up for Free |
|
| « Previous Topic · International Incidents · Next Topic » |








3:23 PM Jul 11