(Photo copyright: Kent Bonham)
My first time on stage and I’m prepared to deliver my speech.
My lines have been memorized; my body language and facial expressions choreographed to express emotion as my hands are tied behind my back and my ankles bound together.
Sightless behind a blindfold, I hear the boots of men as they line up on the stage before me. I feel the heat of the spot which illuminates my body.
“Freedom!” I shout. “Liberty! Justice for all!”
Curses mix with the rifle shots which end my debut performance. I fall into a pool of my own blood in front of an enemy kangaroo court.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. april 4, 2014.)