A French Execution

It was dawn when they woke me up. Not the dawn with the cream-coloured sky and candy floss clouds. Not the fairy-tale dawn caressed by the mellow custard sunshine, nor the bright crisp chirping of exotic birds. The sky, painted khaki and flecked with dullness, seemed to have been the perfect setting for an apocalyptic period. Well, then again, I was in an apocalyptic situation. After all, the entire country wanted me dead, simply for having lived life to the fullest.

I suppose I was living idyllically, unaware of the changing times. Unaware of the blood boiling in the veins of the country. People wanted change and I suppose I did hinder this change. But how can I be blamed? I was forced into an uncomfortable, awkward and lonely position that I had to make something of it. I had to brighten up my days, have fun, invite guests and create my own social revolution. I did bring change, but not the change the people wanted. Whereas I created my own social revolution and transformed the world of delicacies and fashion, the people constructed theirs only to kill me. I am innocent. I only wanted happiness in this world in which I succumbed to expectations. However, I made myself happy by using my power and wealth, but I suppose a woman is is alsways to blame in this world. Whose fault was it that I was married off? Mine. Whose fault was it that my husband was too awkward to sleep with me? Mine. Whose fault was it that consequently I could not have a child? Mine. No matter what I did, do and will do, it is my fault because I am a woman. A woman who must be responsible for all the wrong in the world and carry men's burden because they do not want to carry it themselves.

They say I murdered the country. They say I murdered men, women and children. They say I murdered everything they owned. Why? Why am I to blame, to be executed, when the responsibility also lies upon my husband, my friends, my entourage, my society? Why, out of all of us nobles, am I considered devilish and sinful? If anything, I am the victim. I am a victim because I was stricken with so much burden, hate and disrespect. I am a victim because despite this, the world hates me, and despite this, I am responsible. I suppose it will be centuries before people feel empathy and love the underdog.

After they awoke me, stripped of dignity, wealth and power, the trial began. Whereas they had the world supporting them, I had my lawyers who were given a day to plead my case. They had decided my case before the trial, convinced I must be executed.

Then, shoved around, they ordered me to prepare myself for my execution. If only they could kill me now. The unfairness of this world is too much to bear. The unfairness of being a woman is too much to bear. I was forced to change in front of my guards. Humiliated and naked, I was just a pale broken thing. With a plain white dress, they sheared my hair, stripped me of beauty and femininity. Hands bound behind my back, I became an empty vessel. I wasn't the devil, I wasn't unkind, I treated others with respect. I was a sweet person who, although lacking foresight, only wanted good.

Unlike my husband, the culprit and coward, was given a carriage to ride in to his execution. Me? A simple open cart, under an ominous sky, where everyone could chant and humiliate me. Calling me names, I maintained my grace nonetheless, silent and poised. They may have stripped me of all my wealth, but I am, until the end, royalty.

Kind and loving, misunderstood and alone, my very last words were: "Monsieur, je vous demande excuse, je ne l’ai pas fait exprès."

Forever a Queen, forever myself, forever, Marie Antoinette.

irlescapism

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“Don't eat before the prayer Ryan”, mother exclaimed at me. I dropped the spoonful of mashed potatoes back onto my plate, as everyone bowed their heads and I stared blankly at my plate and waited for dad to finish the rambling prayer, while my stomach grumbled for mum's infamous mashed potatoes. “ (mumble) … and in the same of jesus christ, amen”. I wolfed down a mouthful of the potatoey goodness while my my two younger sisters bickered over some trivial issue. “ Ryan are you packed for the camp”, I sheepishly stuffed another mouthful while I looked at my dad in silence.“ Well son I packed you a bag so be ready to leave at 7” dad said adamantly. “Fine” I begrudgingly accepted. “I know you don't really get on with many of the other young men but Andrew will be going”. My growing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach subsided , “Okay” I said as I tried to hide the blushing redness, that crept up my cheeks. I sprang up and brought my plate into the kitchen, nearly dropping twice with my sweaty hands. “I know you two are good friends” he shouted to me in the kitchen, frankly still oblivious to my reaction. I turned on the tap, stuck in my earphones and put on blue neighbourhood while I methodically washed the plates while my parents chatted at the dining table. “You know they just passed the same-sex marriage bill today” my mother said intriguingly. “Really? They just keep shoving their agenda down our throats, marriage is between a man and a woman, just as the Lord intended. Just what has the world become?” I stacked the last plate on the drying rack and headed up to my room.

I laid on my bed, staring at my phone as the clock slowly counted up to 07:00, my mind wondered, why did I have to grow up in this family? Yes I got on with them but there was a sense of something left unsaid. That I just played along with everything out of a necessity to coexist. “Ryan lets go!” a dry and slightly aggravated voice ghosted up the stairs for obviously the seventh time. So I plodded down the stars and got in the car.

The car pulled to a stop as the trees cast a welcomed shadow over the scorched grass, a few yards a head the rest of the group, huddled together round the mangled remnants of a tent . I swung the door open and with my bag flailing behind me ran over to Andrew while a welcoming face smiled back at me. “Its great to see you Ryan”. “You too I responded then instantly regretted the specific tone I used and then racking my brain through a hundred different ways I could have said it, without knowing that I had completely blanked out and was staring at one of the leaders. Who awkwardly waved back at me with a deeply confused look on his face, who was probably thinking who is this child and why is he giving me a death stare. I cringed at those thoughts while we all headed over to the campfire.

The sun started to set over the jagged spires poking into the the few clouds that spotted the sky overhead, filled with a pinkish hue, as I tried my best to salvage the chard remains of a marshmallow I had purposely allowed to catch fire. The trees overhead contrasted the pastel sky as we talked, for hours and hours bathed in the warm glow of the fire. As its flames licked the star lit sky, people started to leave and head to bed until it was just me and Ryan left. The sparks drifted upwards through the pine branches that spotted my view my view of the sky overhead. I moved my back up the tree a little, as I was a little stiff and looked at his face, partially lit by the glow of the fire. He looked at me and we stared at each other for a couple of seconds, I bet even in that lighting he could tell I was blushing. He leading in and kissed me on the lips, my mind started racing at a hundred miles a beat, I leaned in a bit more. A blinding light shone at us. “ WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!”, dazed and confused I leaned back, trying to block what little light I could, that blinded me.” Are you too bloody fags”, the man blinding us bellowed while I in a baffled and confused state tried to get a grasp on what was going on. Then I felt a bulking hand grasp my shirt, and drag me away a few yards, the pin me against a tree. My shirt my tattered and legs emended with dirt and grazes, I struggled, a useless move against someone who had me helpless. “How could you do that, especially with your upbringing, its unthinkable”. I tried my best to produce a sound, when I caught a glimpse of his fist launching towards me , then I fell unconscious.

A jolt woke me up, my head pounding as I looked out the window to seethe street lights passing by. I caught a glimpse of a sign as it whizzed by.”60 miles to SALT LAKE CITY”, almost home. I looked over to see dad at the steering wheel. “Allen told me what happened at the camp, son” , he calmly spoke, almost like he was speaking under his breath. “He said that you got into a fight because you were... kissing Andrew”. I failed to make a sound, my mind went into overdrive and shock at the same time. The sky was blacker than black, and the only source of light was the street lights that flashed by as a silence drew over the car. “Da...”. “How could you do that, after how me and your mother raised you! You know it wrong. God said, between a man and a woman. Not bloody Adam and Steve. How could you? How could...” he knocked my response out of the air. I could make out the disappointment in his face, silent and internal. “Dad it's part of me” my speech stumbled. “How come you always, state how loving the church and doctrine is, but yet it and you hate me, that I am immoral and evil, that what I am is from the devil himself apparently. Your disgusted by who I am because I don't believe the same things as you, that I'm gay, that I don't fit in your plans. That I don't fit into the community, that I'm in the way of you having the perfect Mormon family”.”SHUT IT”, I fell silent. “ I never said that I didn't love you” his voice took a calmer tone, “ I will always love you no matter what. If your gay. Or atheist. Or anything... I honestly care about you”.”but how can you earnestly believe” I questioned. “that doesn't matter, I will always care about you”.