Among the mindless puppets

Among the mindless Puppets
Limestone presses into my back, I sit peacefully, savouring my last breaths. Cold winds flow down from the barred window opposite me, whipping at my face, it feels like early June. They will come for me today. As time progresses the fact of my inevitable painful death sinks in, and questions rush through my mind, like river rapids. 'What if I had the other horse, could I have made it to the gate in time? What if I could escape? What if I have not place next to God in death?' I block out the 'what ifs' threatening to consume me, for these creatures feed off fear, and I refuse to be their next meal.

A loud creak moans throughout the room as the door opens. Disguised as an angel, it prowls towards me, with every step black silk ripples behind it. As it draws closer, I find myself inhaling a putrid odour, it is the stench of sin that encircles it. I recognise the demon, Lancastrian, the puppeteer of the war raging between humanity and hell. Speechless, it glowers down at me as its emotions trickle into me. A volcanic outburst of anger rattles my teeth, a hurricane of greed twists my mind, and fear suffocates me. Fear of the hope I brought humanity, through freeing Orleans from the Underworld's grasp. It loathes me, with a vengeance, lusting for my blood and tears, craving for the smell of my roasting flesh. I shove its immortal storm from my mortal soul and glare into its hollow eyes. Scowling at the serenity of my mind, it spins on its heels and strides out the door, seconds later its henchmen arrive and drag me off, like a pig to slaughter.

As I'm hauled off to the old market place of Rouen, I pass a sea of faces. Emotionless eyes, once filled with souls, now black and haunted, human bodies inhabited by creatures that crawled out of Hell. A little girl with ribbons in her hair, two boys resembling my brothers and a baker. Each one had a life, filled with love and laughter, now they are just puppets.

They run the rope around my body, looping it, once, twice, and so on, until they are satisfied it will hold. The wood at my back is jagged, stabbing into parts of my exposed flesh. I don't mind, the pain will dull once smoke rises. I stare straight ahead. Lancastrian lounges on his throne of human remains, he wears an expression of boredom. Beneath the puppeteer its puppets sway in the quiet breeze, waiting for the festivities to start. Lancastrian's right-hand man stands, it's starting.
"Jeanne la Pucelle," his tone is venomous, "you have been found guilty of consulting with Christ, as punishment for your treason you shall burn at the stake."
Lancastrian leans forwards, sneering he rubs his fingers together.

A fist of smoke encloses around me, my eyes start to water and smoke fills my lungs. I burst into a coughing fit, it feels like the smoke is melting my insides, but still, I do not scream out in agony. Keeping my wits about me I murmur, "Jus, Jus, Jus..." The pain from the smoke is too much, squeezing my eyes shut I succumb to the flames. My screams intensify as the flames lick the tips of my toes. Slowly I fade out of this cruel reality.

A glistening white light penetrates the darkness and fills the empty void. I am no longer afraid or in pain, I am with him.