A Mother's Loss
by Tito-Mosquito

In the heart of London, England, a young man was kept; a small unfed body of a teenage boy, sitting alone in a dark, muggy, jail cell. He is bare-chested and barefooted, the guards stripped him of his shirt. And he didn't had shoes to begin with. He is wearing just ragged pants. They held him hostage, for three months. The young boy, who is barely sixteen, was plead guilty for stealing. He had a family, a mother and a father, and a girlfriend. His name is Tyler, and he is a prisoner. He is held in this prison cell, away from the entire world, hidden from all civilization, all humans. This world has no love for a starving teenage boy like Tyler.

As he sit in this jail cell, he think of his past. His family, his girlfriend; his life. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. His mother was a tall slender woman, who was always thinking of others. He can remember the day that they crucified his father like it was yesterday. They had taken him from the streets, and he was alone. One of the took him by surprised, grabbed him and dragged him into a dark alley. He screamed and yelled, kicked and punched; but it was no good. It was like the other shoppers didn't know that he was there. No once called for help. No one heard.

One of them took him and shook her as he held him hostage in the dark. He was draped in a long black cloak, and had covered his face in case his father was to live and tell the authorities. His teeth show in the small rays of sunlight that snuck through the small cracks in the cover, over head. They were long, sharp and glistening in the sunlight. His father made his last effort to run and escape, but it was no use. That creature killed his father in the five seconds that he had left in the market place. The authorities found his body, laying on the alley by the market place square. He was no more, his blood was spilled and he wasn't going to let this happen to anyone else of his family.

Tyler, the teenage boy that he is, made a promise when he saw the remains of his father. His promise was to place the most deadly revenge on this creature and make sure it hurt him just as much as it hurt him and his family. He traveled around the country, in search for his father's killer. There were obvious tracks that it had left behind it. Like severed heads, limbs, and split blood. He took up the skill of tracing, and tracking. He traced the blood spills, and tracking footprints with ease and ended up here.

He had gotten himself into more trouble than he had bargained for. Jail. This is not the first place he thought he would end up. Everyday the creatures, talk outside of his jail cell. They talked about how they were going to kill him. But they didn't know that he was ready to fight them. His father's death would be avenged. But he was weak; he had lost all his strength, when they had whipped him. Day in day out they attempted to kill every cell in his body.

He listened avidly to the shrieks from the tortured prisoners filling the hall. They always started with begging. Some moved to outright threats, vowing to hurt the men when they got out. But they always screamed in the end. Most men have heavy screams, unbearable during the night. The women always pierced the air with pure notes, quivering in terror. One woman had a rather musical scream, and she loved it when the men played with her.

Today, the enemy walked into his jail cell and tied his hands together. His wrists are bound with rough restraints behind his back. He was being moved. Two large guards grabbed him by the arms. He struggled against their pull and force. They led him through the door and took him to the courtyard where a crowd of people has gathered. The guards pushed and pulled him towards the meeting place scaffolding.

His eyes are partially hiding behind his messy light brown hair. His chest is tingling by the cold breeze. His nipples are getting hard.

The roar of the crowd began to fill his ears. They call him a sinner. They mock with glee. The peasants hate him. They now rule the nobles. The people in the square cry out for his blood.

His bare feet padded on the stone-covered ground as he march to his death. His feet splashed the cold puddles of water. The soles of his feet hurt. His toes are so cold he could barely feel them.

They stop him just ahead of the device, parading the boy before the hundreds of bloodthirsty onlookers.

"Good people!" the judge began. "Today, you have come to witness the death of the young boy, who has committed an insidious crime - murder! In conclusion, this boy will be beheaded so he will be banned to the fires of Hell!"

"Have you anything to say in your defense?"

He tried so hard to get out. They beat him, they laid him down. Knees against wet boarding. The executioner aggressively placed the boy's head upon the wooden block until the guards tied him up, neck against the splintered wood. Tyler began to cry, the tears came flowing forth. The judge was satisfied.

Tyler looked up, as high as the ropes would allow, at the axe-man, his blade stained with blood.

"Everyone! Please listen to me!" the boy shouted. They didn't. "Listen to me! I just wanted to buy food for me and my-" he got cut off by the "boos" of the people.

"Kill him!"

"Kill the boy!"

"Send him to Hell!"

"Make him suffer!"

He looked down on the floor, can't bear to look at the people in front of him. He lay there, closing his eyes, sobbing and sniffing.

"I swear to God, I didn't do it! Please I just want my mother!"

That's when he looked up and he could see his mother in the crowd. On the edge of the crowd, a woman dressed in rags covering her mouth with her hands and teary eyes. She is also barefoot, which is numb from the cold. In her hands was her cross necklace. She prays to God, begging Him to save her son. She is poor and widowed. There is nothing she could do but watch her son, her only child. Her son is all she have. And now she is about to lose the only thing that's important to her.

Tyler is afraid of death. He began to frantically struggle and tugged at the leather straps. He started to scream, "God I don't want to die!"

"Oh Lord please have mercy", prayed the mother, but Satan had claimed.

The executioner swings his axe down. Tyler closes his eyes as he felt tears released once more, dripping down his face.

"MAAAAAMAAAA-!" That word was his final cry before he felt the axe sever his head from his body and the sound of a WHACK! echoes the square. The mother jumped at the sound. His head is cut off swiftly and is fully aware of its fate as it rolls roll into the whicker. In one flash, he twitched with pain. His life had reached its end. He had fought for what he believed in, and he had failed. This was the end of his road. The people cheered in excitement upon his death.

The cheering rise up when the executioner lifted the boy's fresh severed head for all to see. The head opened and closed its mouth several times, taking on an expression of shock or confusion, then of terror or grief; its eyes moved to the mother - direct eye contact, then hazy, then abstract and death. The boy's severed head blinks three times before everything began to fade away, until all he could see was black.

The jubilant town-folk rang out the church bell. They'd convicted the killer and sent him to Hell. One of the guards stick the boy's head in a pike on the castle wall. Soon everyone leaves but one person, who just stood here staring at that lifeless head of an innocent - his mother.

Her son's expression freeze in shock and terror - slack jaw and gawking eyes. She falls to her knees and puts her hands on her face, crying her heart out. The people walked away, showing no compassion for the mother of a pledged criminal.

"My boy… my precious boy…" she cried.

"Don't cry for your son, you wench. He will now burn in Hell." said an unruly bystander walking away, leaving the sorrowful mother who lost her only son.