As I'm pushed towards the ominous noose, I stumble over the cobblestones, my bare feet scraping and bleeding. The crowd's jeering grows louder, their hate-filled eyes boring into me with a maddening intensity.
Reaching the center of the square, I look up at the gallows. The ruffians even take a few steps back so I can absorb the scene of my death.
Pain radiates from my broken arm and I wince. However, I am more concerned about what's in front of me. The gallows, a structure made of thick wooden beams, which stood tall and foreboding at the center of the square. Its platform is raised above the ground, with wooden stairs on both sides. Its noose sways slightly in the breeze.
The sound of jeers from the crowd echoes around it, creating a chaotic and unsettling atmosphere. There is also a musty odor mixed with the stench of sweat from the onlookers, and the sight takes my all not to squeak from panic.
