Death Draws Nigh

~Wake up feeling convicted~ Brooke Fraser - Lifeline

The river Styx must be in flood, for death creeps nearer every second. The magistrate's eyes lit up when he passed my sentence. Anything for a few minutes of bloody entertainment. Even a life.

The shadows on the stone wall grow longer and deeper all the time, sometimes I fear that I'll fall into that abyss of nothingness, until one of my cell-mates shifts or calls out in their sleep.

Then I wake up and remember my fate. Or lack of it.

There- the wall is growing lighter. A savior from the Gods perhaps? I wonder as I look on squinting through the glare of the zodiacal light.

Nay, the sun is rising, blood red to suit the day ahead.

The guards turn up soon enough to hustle us away, unnaturally silent, contemplating our immediate futures.

We drag our feet along the dank passageway, and then we are struck, mercilessly by the blinding sunlight and roaring crowd.

They've all come it seems, the whole of Rome, to see my blood spill across the sand and congeal into a slick crust.

As luck would have it, I'm first. The guard hisses at me maliciously as I trudge past dragging a sword to heavy for my arms to lift.

"Denn die Toten reiten Schnell" (A)

As I turn my head to look at him he translates.

"The dead travel fast"

Then grins and cackles his head off, displaying his almost toothless mouth.

How encouraging. I walk on and reach the center of the stadium.

The crowd seems to quiet as my opponent, attired in black leather and spines that take after that of a porcupine, approaches me melodramatically for the pleasure of the people.

It's all a show, I realize. They are killing me for a simple, pathetic, soon-to-be forgotten show.

The man in the leather grins broadly at me before raising his sword in readiness.

He expects a fight. Well, they will be disappointed won't they?

The cold blade shivers through the air like lightening.

I hope I'll travel fast.

Fin

A/N:

Written in history class last year. Ancient Rome inspires me I suppose.

Oh, and (A) is from Dracula and therefore belongs to Bram Stoker.

No, I don't know why this Roman dude can speak Romanian (from Romania, not Rome!) perhaps he can time travel?.