The harshness of reality returned to Anoosh's musty prison cell as the heavy iron door was slammed shut. The star of his life, his niece Marji, had just left. Anoosh smiled ruefully as he recalled the last ten minutes he had spent with Marji. Like his younger self, Marji had the conscience to seek the truth instead of swallowing whatever society believed. It was ingrained in Anoosh's beliefs that one day, the proletariats would rule, and the greatness of Persia's ancient city Persepolis would revive. Marji was the future spark of Iran, the one who had the potential to bring Iran back to the great city of Persepolis, so it had only been right for Anoosh to invite her as his last visitor.
Anoosh could faintly make out the final notes of the Islamic call to prayer lingering in the damp air. He wondered how long he had until his execution. His family had always been in danger. First of all, his father, the Prince, had been killed by the first Pahlavi Shah. Then, his uncle Fereydoon, who had proclaimed freedom in Azerbaijan, and who he had worked with. He recalled the night he had learnt that his uncle had been captured by the Shah's men, and all that happened afterwards became a blur. He had fled through the snow-capped mountains, barely surviving the high altitude's breath-stealing curse as he had collapsed on his parents' doorsteps. Of course, the Shah's men hadn't stopped looking for him, so he had to flee the very next morning, all the way to Russia.
Anoosh's heart clenched as he then remembered the terrible time he had had with his Russian wife even though he had had two children. He had decided to return to Iran which had led to his first imprisonment lasting nine years. The Shah had valued the country's economy over the people's freedom, selfishly agreeing to sell out the Iran's oil to the American and British companies. But how much better was the Islamic regime now? He was proud that his family had never changed their patriotic love for their country and people. He would not let his family down.
Heavy footsteps marched up to his door. Anoosh's brow furrowed as he noticed the tally marks messily scribbled over the wall, counting all the lives that had suffered the same fate from that very cell. He furiously tore his gaze away, nauseated by the heartless Islamic government, which had been slaughtering protestors like mere mosquitos. He couldn't let the guards see him in his vulnerable state, so he mustered all his energy and hurriedly pushed his frail body up from the cold prison floor. His legs trembled beneath him. He could hear the keys being aggressively shoved into the lock as he steadied himself with one arm against the wall. The door swung open with an ear-piercing screech - metal against metal. Two guards, both reeking of the stench of death, marched in, chained his hands and feet and shoved him out.
Anoosh stumbled through the corridors as his eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness outside. He could already picture the headlines from the following morning's newspapers; "Russian Spy Executed". That was their excuse. He had been a threat to the government of the Shah and to the new Islamic leaders because he was a communist standing up for the people. It was becoming difficult for Anoosh to breathe as his lungs overworked themselves through the shallowest of breaths. With one final shove on his back, Anoosh found himself in the prison courtyard, a stretch of bare dirt enclosed on all four sides by towering concrete walls. Along each wall was a line of soldiers dressed in khaki uniform. Anoosh lifted his head to see the red, white and green flag of Islamic Iran flapping in the wind. He remembered how the flag used to be in his father's time, with a golden lion holding a sword and the light of the sun coming up behind it. His eyes were drawn to the wooden gallows standing in the centre of the courtyard. He surveyed the structure, from the poorly hidden trapdoor to the aging rope which must have taken countless lives before him.
The heat of the sun penetrated deep in his pale skin as he took a deep breath. His eyes caught sight of a flock of birds flying free in the sunshine which instantly brought to his mind the gift he had made for Marji. He hoped that the bread swan would remind her to look for beauty in the seemingly corrupted world. Anoosh walked up the wooden steps, aligning himself directly below the noose. He let the soldier behind him blindfold him gently and put the rope around his neck. He waited. He would soon be truly free.