The Randomness of Life Chapter 17~ for A Little Drabble Do Ya

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Prompted by: Spleen (IV) ~Charles Baudelaire, originally written in French
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Quand la terre est changée en un cachot humide,
(When the earth is changed into a damp cell,)


They had me and leave it to Thrush to want to use la guillotine.

I’ve waited patiently for my American partner to rescue me, but it seems that time is now running out and there is no sign of him at all.  

I think I am going to die.
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D'une vaste prison imite les barreaux,
(In a large grim prison bars,)

I watched through my prison window today as they assembled the means of my execution.

Each board nailed carefully, put precisely into place... all this work for something that
would take just a split second to be over.  I wondered how badly would it hurt?

I would know soon enough.
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Ainsi que des esprits errants et sans patrie
(And wandering spirits and homeless)

“Where would I go once I was dead...would I cease to exist as if I had never walked this earth?  

I do not believe in heaven; the cruelties of life drove that out of me when I was a child.”

“Bozhe moy, I have to go somewhere?”

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Sur mon crâne incliné plante son drapeau noir.
(On my bowed skull plants her black flag.)

“I knelt down resting my head in the stock; they placed a black cloth over me, though I protested.I did not want my last sight on this earth being that.”

There were shots from a silenced gun, and several thuds.

“Hey tovarisch, cavalry’s here.”   

I smiled, knowing that voice.