The only sound he made was a startled shout when the door opened up beneath him. It was quickly cut short when his neck broke. I gazed up at the twitching figure swinging back and forth a few feet in the air. He was slowly turning too, to the right and then the left, so that at times his back was to me and at times his face, the eyes bulging, the mouth hanging open.
In a little while, they would cut him down, cover him in dirt, and leave no marker for his grave.
What an end, I thought.
Tale Told 