The amount of people filling the town square reminded me of bees defending their honey comb on a fresh Spring day.

Only difference.

Instead of succulent honey, they loved to see a head roll in the basket. It was a new trend going around. I always wondered what happened to the body after the head was decapitated. Would it flail around until it could process it’s missing piece? Or would it drop dead like the speed of the blade falling on its target?

“Off with their heads!” resonated all of France, as if a prayer. People were shoving each other, trying to reach the blood shed. They could pass off as vampires and those eerie creatures didn’t exist.  

“Do it, Monsieur de Paris!” I glanced towards the little boy. The quality of his clothes mimicked mine.

Used to their pleas, I looked away and stared at the blade.  

I stood behind them, my eyes not leaving it. The people were rabid, starving for the next batch of criminals to have a taste of their own maker. This was the only time the rich and poor would unite. It was a guilty pleasure, no matter the class. Anyone could spot out who ate scraps or chocolate for dinner.

Curious, I stepped an inch or two. The blade called out to me, my fingers itching to glide on it.

The Royal Executioner of France raised his hands up, attempting to calm the townspeople, but they weren’t having none of it. The more time he wasted, they became restless and were beyond reason. Sweat was prominent around his face.

He was nervous, the terror in his eyes wasn’t fooling anyone. The raging townspeople  would move to the wooden stage, banging on it with their bare hands.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from getting near the commotion. I turned around, curious at the interrupter.

Andrien.

The oldest sibling between the two of us. His brown hair matted on his forehead, like a dirty rag placed on his scalp.

Amber eyes met my own, I pointed at the blade, it’s sparkle hiding.

“I know, Emma, but you mustn't be so hasty,” His head moved towards the blade, analyzing it.

I clenched my skirts, the material thin and barely providing warmth. I tucked a loose strand behind my long hair as if attempting to fix my appearance.

I heard a gasp.

“Let’s go home, we have no business here,” he quickly reached for my hand, but I backed away.

“No, Andy! I want to stay and watch it fall down,” It was my first execution and I wouldn’t miss it, again.

“We can make it to another execution, but we aren’t going to stay for this one.”

“Why?” Something was wrong, I curled my bare toes onto the dirt floor.

“Because our parents are up there.”

The sounds of a head rolling in a basket claimed the air.

**************

The day my parents were killed felt like a rush. I was too young to know anything back then. I would question Andrien everyday. I knew what happened, but I didn’t want to accept the reality for a long time.

My parents died.

All because I asked for a piece of chocolate for my birthday.

A peasant having chocolate was a needle in a haystack. It didn’t happen.

At all.

I closed my eyes, steadying my breathing, bringing my hands to my temples. I tried to cage in the panic settling.

In…

Out…

In…

Out…

This happened often after my first execution. It never really went away no matter how much I practiced on how to calm myself. It never worked with this situation.

I attended all of them. Every single execution after my first. It was a reminder of what we lost.

We were poor from the start, but without the help of my father, we were useless. My brother had to take on the roll of a man at the age of 12. Something happened to him on that day. The lad changed from boy to man the moment the blade fell on our mother’s neck.

It went clean off.

That moment haunted us the most.

The old days came to mind, I remember every detail. My mom washing our clothes, reciting stories to us when we could never afford books, and kissing us good night.

I curled myself into a ball. The amount of blood that poured out of my mother’s neck wasn’t normal. My father lucked out. He chose slavery before family, before dying with his one true love. I could see the smug grin on him now.

The bastard was dead to me now.

His voice spoke up, “Em, are you thinking, again?” His steps stopped at the entrance of our lot, he braced an arm on the side of the door. At six feet two, he was a beast.

I shook my head, opening my eyes, “No, it’s nothing,” I smiled, “How was it?”

I never said work. We took whatever we could.

Andrien picked up lots of jobs. Who knew what my brother got himself into time and time again.Some of them I knew because he told me, but others, he preferred to keep his little sister in the dark. I think I liked it that way, but a part of me wanted to protect him from everything.

“It went alright, you should’ve seen Jacques today,” my brother chuckled, settling himself on a wooden chair that had seen better days, “First day on the job and the poor lad was a mess.”  

I grinned, getting up from that mat on the ground. I dusted myself off, the thin material of the dress dirty anyway “Oh? And, you weren’t like that 9 years ago?”

“Shut it,” he ran his hand through his long face.

“Long day?” I brought him a cup of water.

He took it and chugged it down, “Aye,” He paused and looked into my eyes,  “It’ll get better soon, Em. I promise.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say whenever he got this way.

************

“I’m going shopping! Don’t wait up,” I yelled on my way out.

Like always, Andrien said nothing, but two words.

“Be safe.”

I checked the string around my trousers under my dress, making sure it wouldn’t slip off my hips.

These were Andrien’s and they were loose on me.  The holes on them weren’t huge, so they’re good to go shopping in.

I put on his cap on my head. I cut the length of my hair, it helped and made me look more...insignificant. I made sure my pocket knife was on my

I walked to the market. This time of the evening was still bustling with people trying to sell their merchandise. Times didn’t get better. I remember all these merchants. Once, they were merry folk, but now, the hope in the atmosphere deteriorated. They had aged a millenium.

The quality of the food, forgotten just like the peasants of France.

I made my way around three times.I kept my head down, grabbing anything in sight. I felt different textures. From the flesh of various rotten fruits and vegetables to the stench of fish.

I could feel the weight of my trousers pulling me down. It was enough to last us a couple of days if we were cautious with the food.

I took a different route to my lot every time, just to be on the safe side.

If someone found out about what I was doing, then I would die. No questions asked. Stealing was against the law, but I didn’t care.

Andrien and I would do everything to survive and finally leave this place.

***********

“Andy, I’m home!”

An unsettling silence greeted me.

Odd.

He was always here to welcome me back.

I shrugged it off, he must have to went out for some fresh air. It got pretty stuffy.

I took off my trousers, knelt down to collect all the goods I harvested, then got started on supper.

Andrien would be hungry by the time he came back.

***********

I waited for awhile and no sign of him.

Now, my panic was rushing in like a tidal wave.

My fingers drummed on the floor. I set supper up on the chair. We sat and slept on the floor. We couldn’t afford a table or another chair.

“Urgh!” I abruptly got up, made sure my knife was still there and went out to find him.

It had started to drizzle, but the way the skies were looking, it might turn into something worse soon.

My cap kept the rain from getting into my eyes.

I checked everywhere for the bastard. His job places, to the harlots he would hook up with. I debated becoming a woman of the night to help, but knowing Andrien, he would kill any guy who looked at me funny.

I rubbed my temples, my mind running through many scenarios.

My brother could be dead for all I knew. Then, it hit me.

I forgot to check one more place.

The graveyard.

It was a few miles away from here, but I could make the walk.

I ran.

***************

And, I was right.

I heaved, catching my breath.

I saw a form from where I was standing, he faced me, he sat, his back on mama’s grave, his knees brought to his torso.

His hands were on his head, caging in years worth of frustration.

Besides the death of my mother, this was one of the most tragic scenes I’ve seen in my life.

Andrien crying pained me.

It was seldom when he cried, but I knew this time he must have done something foolish if he came to her grave.

I slowly walked towards him, seeing if he would look at me. But, he kept his head between his knees never once looking up.

I saw the orphan boy who thought he lost everything.

A mother and father to come home to.

But, he forgot one thing.

He had me. I was his ally and I would never abandon or betray him like our family did. We were out on our own, barely surviving.

I held him close, my head resting on top of his. I was on my knees and he still towered over me.

He would always hug me until I sobbed my eyes out. It was only right I would return it.

We were all we had left.

I waited to ask until he finished. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I already knew what he was going to say next.

“I’m sorry.”

I giggled, “This isn’t going to get us anywhere, Andy.”

He took a deep breath, calming the after effects of his sobbing, “I’m just sorry, okay?”

I sighed. From our childhood days, he would do this. He would apologize over and over, but not letting me in on what had happened. I knew my brother saw a lot of the grimy side of Paris. It made me sad he didn’t want to share his pain a little.

I pushed him. “Get up!”

“Ouch! What did you do that for, Em?” He rubbed his arm a little.

“Let’s go home, I’m tired and supper is still left on the chair.

He got up then held his hand out.

I took it and used him as leverage to get back on my feet.

We walked and talked the way whole home. The rain let up a while ago, so the sunset was glaring at us.

That was the last time I would see my brother for a long time.

**************

We were sleeping when they came.

The French Police invaded our home and took my brother from me.

I sat there watching him, I wanted to get my knife and stab them in the neck. I didn’t want him to die. What did he do? What was he not telling me?

“Lass, Andrien Amblour is a criminal. He will die and you will have the front row seat just like the rest of them.”

I turned my attention towards Charles Henri-Sanson, the Royal Executioner who administered my parent’s execution.

“Don’t listen to them, Emma! They just wan--”

I gripped the handle, ready to kill him, but my brother shook his head. They were gagging him, keeping him from telling me anything.

They left quickly.

I had so many questions.

It seems like I would have to get those answers myself and I didn’t have much time. I had to clear my brother’s name.

Panic entered me.

His life was in my hands.