Sort of a prologue to a story I've been thinking of. I guess you can tie it into my character, but I'd rather not seeing how there are too many bridges to work with right now.
Anywho, there are four parts, each called a quartet, to the entire story, this is merely a opening to such.
Without further to do, I give you (eventually) 100 Years.
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Opening Symphony - Twilight
Drums in the sunlight…the glare of it all passed into his eyes, making them quiver with fear, as they were only let out of the dark with his body a few moments ago.
Dressed in rags and shackles, nothing one would expect of a Russian warlord and prince, yet there he was – broken and lost to decay. Sores dotted his flesh from the tortures the British inflicted upon him as blood seeped from the wounds of the whip they kept open with fresh lashes.
He tried to block the hated, and loved, sun from his eyes with a hand, but a man in red slapped his arm down with the butt of a pistol, his other hand firm on the prince’s shoulder.
A person read why he was being called out here, it was then that he realized where he was – a crowd lay cheering around him, throwing decayed plants upon him. He was kneeling on a platform being rolled upon wheels, carted by an ox. Three British soldiers were near at hand – two with pistols, beside him, and one with a rifle, behind.
The ox was led by a fourth, who carried no weapon, to a grand table set in the center of this mob – one with an arm protruding from it – one with a rope dangling from the fingers of that arm – one with a noose hanging patiently.
Demitri knew this to be his fate, gruesome execution. For the pleasure of those around him he would die, drowned in self-loathing and hatred, like he had always been known to do – shoot himself down at the height of his pride and self-gratification. He thought back to three years prior to this atrocity, three years before he would die again, this time not for anyone’s pity.
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