They slide him forward so that his head is beneath a sharp blade and upon the executioner's command, the blade drops and with it the head, to be caugh... in a basket."I pondered, wondering what it was that she didn't dare to tell me, for her face had suddenly bleached. "You witnessed this yourself?"She shook her head. "No. I've not seen it but m ... mother witnessed it. She ... she wrote me a letter."She pulled the letter from the skirt of her red dress, but then she paused and had second. He looked much like a boxing legend or something. He was also very tall, at least 6′ 4′, but I could only guess from my position on the bed. The Michael Clark Duncan-look alike didn’t say anything, and didn’t move to touch me, his face showed no emotion. Strangely, I found that a little comforting, I did my best to emulate him. I didn’t ask any of the dozens of questions pinging around my head, I didn’t start to cry, and I didn’t try to struggle against my restraints. I had noticed I was. More

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