The Prince and the Pauper (A Late Gay Pride Story)

Hero

Word count: 2010

The final knot was applied to the bondage that tied the man's skeletal wrists and waist to the wooden stake. The rope is obviously cheap, thick like heavy cloth but with a straw-like texture that made it extremely uncomfortable on his pale wrists and left the white skin transforming to red with irritation as he continued to struggle in his binds like a cornered animal, but it worked well to keep the man from moving an inch. The wooden pole was full of splits and sharp ends that poked painfully at the boy's skinny back and arms like an unpleasant acupuncture. Knees shaking in exhaustion, threatening to give out without a notice and bring the man to the ground in collapse he continues to shift his sore, blistering feet from one to another in fear he will fall in front of the heaving crowd. All eyes were on him, judging his every move.

The crowd below the platform waited in agonising excitement in wait of the stranger lighting up in flames like a human torch, carrying the sound of his screams and the smell of burning flesh and blackened smoke through the town. They would cheer and jeer at him as he was to be burned alive until his pale flesh turned black like charcoal and he finally dies in agonising suffering, the only excuse of the witnesses of his execution is that the man is a 'homo'. The man in question was in fact bisexual, not gay, he could fall in love with each gender, all are naturally beautiful and attractive to him and he could see past the law of prejudice that a man is only supposed to love a women, and a women to a man, but he dared not to reason or argue to anyone further. He had already been convicted and found as guilty as a mouse caught in a mousetrap, and now he is to be killed in only 10 minutes time.

The man looks up to the sky, in a silent pray he harshly hopes again and again for some sort of saviour. Trying to loosen the bonds once more, his efforts were futile and the rope didn't budge, it only resulted in his wrists becoming red and raw in the struggle. Silently crying out for a heavy rain to suddenly fall and ruin the executioners chance to set him ablaze, at least not today, he hadn't even the chance to even say goodbye to his family and friends, thinking about it nearly brought tears to the young male's eyes again.

His executioner was a pot-bellied man, with inflated arms and a thick head, that much was clear to see under his black clothes and robes, his face was disguised with a black mask that prevented his identity from being exposed to the crowd, to hide his face to those who were in disgrace of the execution, but the young man surveyed the crowd countless time and clearly knew that the few who might possibly disagree with his punishment is quickly overruled by the fear of being in the minority of those who screamed offensive slurs and names at the man on the platform, some even vernally threatened to jump onto the stage to beat and kill the man themselves! It terrified the man to understand how vulnerable he is at the moment. All while young children, without the knowledge to know what is happening have no choice but to follow in their parents footsteps and learn to jeer and watch the horrific burning of a poor stranger.

Watching the crowd with tear filled eyes full of desperation and hopelessness, none responded with an ounce of sympathy for the young man. Groups of drunken men, swinging and swaying from cheap booze wore evil grins and they fired insults and offensive nicknames at the tied up man, elbowing their friends only encouraged them to hurl threats like a cannon at him further. "Faggot!" One of the men cries and takes another drink from a green bottle of booze as the others respond with obnoxious drunken laughter. Another idiot throws a sharp rock that narrowly misses the gentlemen's face and bounces off the platform.

If humiliation was not already at a dangerous rate, the young man's punishment was about to be witnessed by two elite guests, the king and queen. Dressed in gleaming gold and fashionable garments created entirely out of the finest silks and cottons, they look over their subjects and the man on the platform exclusively with disgust, disgust for their poor nature and unfortunates that they were not born in wealth or royalty like them.