100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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At the first pub between the jail and the gallows the crowd was still bubbling with angry murmurs. The condemned, however, was a very wealthy man who bought the entire bar at every stop along the way. After the third tavern the masses carried him, anger forgotten, as was customary. He found his legs at the wooden steps and, standing before the crowd on that ancient stage, the pickpockets and vendors beaming, he could speak again: “My people,” he cried, The hangman, unfortunately, was easily bored, “that chicken was begging for it...” he said, as the trapdoor opened.
All the answers lay in her cold, dead fist. No one thought to look there before the burial.