an execution is about to happen, i am told by the tanned, wiry man pressed up to me, a public execution.  the glint of lunacy in his squinting eyes puts on display the excitement he feels – the excitement everyone here feels, differentiated only by the extent.  after all, the treasonous trash which will be dragged onto the makeshift platform, chained and painted over in dull red, is not them, not someone held close to their hearts beating with trepidation. 

where we exist, individuals do not love each other, anyway.  it is written in the law, we know.

to the dense crowd each jostling for a clearer view, the public execution is a curiosity.  and of course, an exhibition that grants them several hours at least of relief off working in the fields or factories, for which they are all privately thankful.  no one expresses their true sentiments, because if we do, we will be the next reason for a break in routine.  everyone stoically maintains a pretense of ignorance.  at least, that is the way i see the silent acceptance and foolish commentary sounding out around me; these people may be peasants, but they did not descend from generations of survivors for nothing.  his only mistake was to have opinions against the government, rings out the droll observation bred by jittery defiance.  his only mistake was to let these opinions leave his mouth is my voiceless cry of rebuke.

the truck bearing the brave idiot pushes through the crowd, sluggish pace hindered by the sheer numbers of spectators.  soldiers flank his corpse-like body up the crushed steps to his deathbed; regimental austerity juxtaposes lifeless surrender.  a beaten up, broken down creature is indistinguishable from another, reduced to components of ripped skin and clotted hair and twisted bones.

and red: that which symbolizes our collective fervor for a lost cause.

a brief pause.

he is erected for us to witness, a message and reminder; in between the lines marring the guilty man’s sallow skin (once the pale of an intellect), this is what i dutifully read: for a better tomorrow, freedom must be sacrificed.

we inhale – a single gun shot vibrates the air particles – and exhale.