Keep in mind that all posts and comments, if any, are fantasy. This is not real.
Today, I will be hanged, together with my friends. We are dancers sentenced to death for our immoral lifestyle. We live together, and perform together. Today, we will perform one last time. We have been allowed our last request to hang dressed in our dance attire. We chose shimmering purple stirrup tights with matching leotards.
The hangman has arrived while we are dressing, both to watch and to describe the procedure. Jessica has only one question, “How long will it take us to die?” He answers, “It depends on how well your noose tightens when you fall, and whether your neck breaks. Usually, it takes about five minutes.” He offers advice, telling us that kicking hard and actively struggling will make it go faster.
With that, it is time to go. One by one, he ties our hands behind our backs. The ropes binding my wrists are cruelly tight, but he explains that it must be this way, and that it will soon be overshadowed by how tight the ropes around our necks will be. He leads the way out of our cell, and we follow behind him, single file. He opens the door, and we see the gallows before us, as well as the crowd that has gathered to watch. In front of the gallows, on the ground, we see the crude wooden coffins that await our bodies. As is custom, we will be buried in unmarked graves, still bound and with our ropes still around our necks. If we are ever dug up in the future, they will know that we were executed and died in disgrace. The grass we walk across feels good under our feet, cool and soft on such a warm day. All executions take place at the stroke of twelve, noon.
At the base of the stairs, the hangman steps to the side, and motions us up. We feel his eyes on us as we slowly climb the steps. Ashley is first to mount the platform, and she steps to the noose on the right. I am next, and I step up to my noose in the middle. Jessica does the same on the left. As the hangman reaches the top, we remember his instructions, and place our feet together to make it easier for him to tie them. We stand, nooses brushing our faces, on the front half of the platform, which is hinged to fall away beneath our feet when the hangman pulls the lever. I look up at the cross beam, and down my rope to my noose. Ashley and Jessica have done the same, and we now look at one another.
A large crowd has come to see us. We notice many of the men removing their hats. I suspect it is less a gesture of respect than it is to cover the erections bulging in their pants. How lucky their wives must feel when their husbands arrive at home, full of desire created by our stretched necks and our wiggling, reaching toes.
The hangman starts preparing us. He kneels behind Jessica, taking a short length of rope from his belt, and ties her ankles. He slides over to me, and I feel the rope tightening around my ankles, causing my toes to curl. Ashley wiggles her toes as he knots the rope around her ankles. He then stands up behind Ashley, last to be tied; first to be noosed…The thick rope is tightened around her thin neck. He slides the knot into position below her right ear. Then, showing a touch of humanity, gently pulls her hair out of the noose. I’m next, and I close my eyes as the rope slides over my head and into place. He tightens the noose around my neck with a jerk that startles me. I guess the knot on my rope is a little stiffer. Jessica looks down at her feet as she is noosed. She gets an extra little tug, too. It all happened very quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. I see the church clock, and it’s a minute or two before noon. We’re ready, but we will have to wait for the stroke of twelve. We look at one another, and at those who have come to witness our pain. I look down at our feet, wrapped and nicely packaged like gifts for the spectators.
People in the crowd start calling to us, when they realize we have some time. “Are you ready, Twistin?” I smile and reply that I am always ready to dance. “Kick hard, girls!” “It will all be over soon, Jessica!” “Don’t cry, Ashley!” I look over to see a tear running down her cheek. The bells begin to chime the hour, and I realize we don’t have long. We say goodbye to one another. Ashley closes her eyes, and starts to shudder. Jessica returns her gaze to her feet, and I look into the faces below us. As the bells reach eleven, I hear someone excitedly say, “Here we go! We’re going to see some dancing now!”
The hangman pulls his lever on the twelfth bell. The platform falls from beneath our feet and our ropes cinch tight as they catch our weight. My rope has caught me at a place on my neck that forces my tongue out of my mouth, as it does for Jessica. The pain is incredible, but the initial shock prevents us from fully feeling it. Feet kicking, breasts jiggling, we struggle like fish caught at the end of a line, struggling and strangling. I hear a crack, and I can see Ashley convulsing in my peripheral vision. I begin to twist clockwise on my rope. As I come to face Ashley, I see that her neck is obviously broken, longer than ours, and head tilted unnaturally, her face frozen in a look of terror. It will take her just as long to strangle to death as Jessica and I, but she will do it while paralyzed and unconscious. I feel my face flushing due to lack of oxygen, and there is a ringing sound in my ears, along with the cheers of the crowd. As I continue twisting, I am now facing the hangman. He smiles at me as I look at him with the wild eyes of a strangling girl. My rope, now fully stretched, leaves me facing Jessica, who is in turn facing me. Her face is red, her eyes wide like mine. We’ve stopped kicking, and swing gently back and forth with our toes pointed. I look down at our pretty, bound, dangling feet, realizing that these will be our last moments. My vision is going dark at the edges when Jessica starts wiggling her toes. I raise my eyes to look at her face, now purple, with her tongue a much darker shade of purple. Her eyes have changed, wide-eyed terror replaced by half-closed resignation. She twitches once, and I know she is gone. Her bladder releases, and a stain grows between her thighs. I decide to use all my remaining life to go out strong. I kick with all my might, keeping my toes pointed. I can only manage four or five before I, too, am wetting myself to the delighted cheers of the crowd.
Three long-necked barefoot girls in urine stained tights sway gently in the breeze, as the witnesses depart.