Standing, hiding behind his father, she could see his small face staring in bewilderment.

How hideous, she thought, that they should bring a child to my death.

Here she was, about to meet her demise, in a way not even suited for a pig. She glared at the man, as he shielded his son, and mouthed something to him. The woman standing next to him gasped. In an instant, they were gone from the crowd, and the young boy with them. Jocelyne sneered. This was far from over, for even from the depths of her grave, she would return to claim what she decided, on her death day, was rightfully hers. With her final living thought, sealed in her hardened heart, she felt the blade slice through her, again and again, until she felt no more.

to be continued….

Part One

Part Two

©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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