The town square was buzzing with activity, torches had been lit on every corner, stalls selling warm food and drinks were set up around the edges of buildings and there were people milling around the gallows that served as a morbid centrepiece. There was smoke in the air, mingled with hearty laughter and singing.
***
Meanwhile, the Woman listened with bound hands as people chatted below the barred window. She had sat, awaiting her fate with an unexpected calmness. The Elderly Woman with whom she had shared the cell not hours before had been taken first and judging from the crowd’s rapturous applause when the lever was snapped back, it appeared that she had provided a good show. Nevertheless, something had occurred that had meant the festivities had been delayed.
The delay had affected the restless Young Man in the next cell. He had whiled away the hours with his head bowed, muttering unintelligibly. His shirt, soaked through with sweat, clung to his skin and made him appear as though he’d been rescued from drowning. He breathed heavily, and the Woman hummed softly in an effort to soothe him.
The sound of jingling from the corridor alerted the Woman and she shot a glance at the door. The lock clinked and the Young Man bolted upright as though waking from a nightmare.
***
A tall, moustachioed man dressed in a black cloak was standing by the platform steps, watching the executioner prepare himself again. One of the burlier village men who had enthusiastically stepped in to assist with the executions was taking down the Elderly woman who had been dispatched earlier. She had gone to her death as dignified as she was able, despite the wounds that had been inflicted upon her during her interrogation making it difficult for her to walk the steps unaided.
The tall man nodded his approval upon being informed that the other executions would go ahead as planned. The extension of the festivities had not attracted any negative input from the villagers, who instead invited the opportunity to celebrate.
Just metres away from the platform, a stocky woman with an auburn bun moved with haste through a group of drunken men as they chatted and laughed merrily. She dragged a reluctant looking friend behind her as she made her way to the figure in the cloak.
“I wanted to tell you how grateful we are for all you’re doing here, Mr Matthews.” Mrs Unsworth said, her round cheeks flushing red as she spoke. “Those people have caused nowt but misery in this village. You’re the answer to our prayers.”
Matthews regarded the woman and her shy friend with a smile, before placing a hand on his admirer’s shoulder.
“You needn’t fear anymore, Mrs Unsworth. Their reign of terror is at its end.” Matthews said earnestly, his gravelly voice exuding an authority that immediately convinced all around him that he knew exactly what he was talking about. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Mrs Unsworth nodded and blushed, more than satisfied with her saviour’s response, before jerking her bedraggled friend back into the noise.
Matthews jogged up the steps and looked out over the crowd. He saw the people milling about, decidedly excited for their next serving of perceived justice.
“We’re saving the Woman for last.” Matthews whispered to the hangman, who nodded in approval. The Woman had not proven difficult for him to condemn. She was an easy target, having lived in a cottage at the edge of the woods, keeping to herself and living independently and off the land.
She was not unpleasant by any means, having aided many of the villagers with herbal remedies for their various complaints. Although these same people had somewhat embellished the stories of their encounters with her, twisting them and adding vulgarities that said more about their own indiscretions than anyone else’s.
Some of the villagers that had come forward to speak out against the condemned had accused them of crimes ranging from transvection and conspiring with the devil, to crop failures and even murder. The three had been ruthlessly interrogated to the point of torture, before being sentenced to death.
The Young Man likely would have been forgotten by those who had spoken against him, had it not been for his close friendship with the Woman. He was seen to enter her home each month, only to leave with a vial of some description- and it was determined by his neighbours that he was assisting her in her dark acts.
The Elderly Woman’s only crime was falling victim to age-induced senility. She had begun to claim that the trees were speaking to her, telling her that death was coming but it needn’t be feared. After one of the village children had died suddenly, the villagers felt that her almost endearing eccentricities had become somewhat sinister.
Matthews watched with gleaming eyes as the two remaining prisoners were brought into the square. The Young Man came first and he was led through the parted crowd with his wrists bound. Initially, he appeared almost catatonic, until an unintelligible yell from the crowd caused him to lift his head, allowing him a glimpse of the gallows for the first time. He immediately snapped out of his stupor, stopping in his tracks at the sight.
The man leading him pulled him by his wrists in an attempt to move him along without making a scene before they reached the platform. But the Young Man, despite his small frame, was granted strength through fear. He managed to wrench free from the guide and ran back through the crowd.
He did not get far, as the bloodthirsty mob intervened and prevented his escape. A mass of grabbing hands held him in place as the guide retrieved his prisoner. The burly assistant had made his way to the disturbance, determined to prevent any further delay.
In a swift movement, the assistant caught the attention of the flailing Young Man, before delivering an overly enthusiastic blow to his jaw. The Young Man was sent to the ground almost instantly and his violent subduing was met with a cheer from the crowd.
The assistant proceeded to drag the troublesome prisoner behind him and the guide followed, keeping his head down. The assistant lurched up the steps to the platform, his hands on the Young Man’s shoulders to prevent another escape attempt.
The Woman was led roughly with her hands bound, although she couldn’t help but feel slightly amused, when she was supposedly in possession of supernatural powers that would have made binding her hands and imprisoning her in a cell effectively useless. She was made to stop behind the crowd so as not to distract from the spectacle taking place on the platform. The Woman watched and waited her turn, occasionally looking over the crowd in disgust. Disgusted both by the people to whom she had only shown kindness express their willingness to put innocents through such an unspeakable ordeal, and by their readiness to do so with such eagerness.
She had to remind herself though, that this was not a murder to them, it was entertainment. She, the Young Man and the Elderly Woman were nothing to the people they had lived alongside for the past however many years. They were just fair game. The realisation was more than she could handle, and she found herself unable to find forgiveness in her heart. What had happened here- what was going to happen, was wrong.
A hessian sack was pulled violently over the Young Man’s head. He struggled against the assistant as he guided him into position, but it did him no good. The Woman shook her head in quiet despair as the Young Man jerked his head away when the rope was looped around his neck.
After a moment of futile struggling, the assistant managed to tighten the knot. The Young Man could be heard sobbing over the low murmur of the crowd and the Woman watched as the people she had known her whole life, people whom she had shared laughter and tears with at some point, smiled in response to his anguish.
The assistant stepped back as the hangman placed a hand on the lever. Matthews encouraged the Young Man to speak out against the Woman and invited him to utter his last words, but he was met only with the sound of muffled sobs.
For a moment, all was still and a hush fell across the crowd as the collective seemed to lean forward in morbidly eager anticipation of the impending snap.
The Woman looked upward and noticed the smoky clouds overhead were beginning to dissipate. The glow of the full moon shone between them like a lighthouse through the fog and illuminated the platform like a spotlight.
The Young Man suddenly doubled over and cried out in pain. He collapsed to his knees, and a dark stain blossomed across the sack that covered his face.
Matthews looked to the hangman, who shrugged in response.
The crowd erupted into angry shouts when they realised their show was being disrupted yet again. The assistant made an attempt to seize the Young Man, who had begun thrashing wildly about the platform, but recoiled when a pair of elongated, canine jaws tore through the sack.
The Young Man’s arms and legs lengthened and sprouted a coarse dark hair. The ropes around his neck and wrists snapped like mere string, and the remains of his tattered clothing fell to the ground when he stood up on his now enormous hind legs. He threw his lupine head back and emitted a long, low howl that chilled the bones of all that heard it.
The assistant, whether out of a misplaced sense of duty or just out of plain fear, rushed at the Beast and made a foolish attempt to knock him to the ground.
The Beast grabbed the foolhardy assistant and tore him in half with ease. Blood drenched the crowd below, but it seemed to take a moment for the event to register. Although it didn’t take long for the scene to descend into chaos when the Beast jumped down amongst them.
The air was filled with hysterical screams and there began a great jostling in a frantic effort to escape the carnage. Those nearest the front, who had desired to be closest to the action, stood no chance against the Beast, since they were effectively trapped against the wall of people behind them. Those that did manage to push through were among the ones who trampled the unfortunates who had fallen or been left behind.
All the while, the Woman watched the townspeople run for their lives in all directions. Some, half dead or fully dead, flew past her like bloodied rag dolls, victims of the Beast’s newfound bloodlust. But she had no fear, and absolutely no intention of leaving just yet.
Matthews eyed her from beneath the platform of the gallows. She gave him a wave with her bound hands, just so he knew she had seen him there, cowering like a frightened child. He maintained eye contact until the gored remains of some poor unfortunate suddenly smashed through the wooden structure, exposing his hiding place.
He staggered to his feet and made his way to her, mindful of the human debris that flew about overhead. He stepped carefully over the remains of Mrs Unsworth, grimacing at the loss of one of his dearest followers.
The Woman waited patiently for him to get to her, never once looking away. When he finally reached her, she could see the fear in his eyes. It looked unusual on him, and she fancied that it was less likely that such fear was the result of the Beast tearing people to shreds, rather the loss of control and admirers that really affected him.
“Call it off.” he growled, spittle dripping down his chin. “Call it off and we can make some sort of arrangement.” There was a desperation in his wavering voice that reassured her that she was not in danger of being hanged any time soon. A trickle of blood scurried down the hairs of his moustache and served as a reminder to her that he really was human, after all.
“I can’t.” she said, shrugging and gesturing skyward with her chin. “Full moon. I don’t know what you’ve been told. But I can’t control that.”
His gaze followed hers, and the moon was momentarily reflected in his beady eyes. He turned around to look at the Beast again, who had cornered the hangman whilst he was trying to defend himself with a torch. Matthews averted his eyes when the Beast swatted the torch from the terrified man’s hands, hearing his choked screams just moments later.
The Woman appeared sympathetic, decidedly unhappy regarding the unnecessary bloodshed. Although she reminded herself that the only reason these people were gathered tonight was to see other people die.
Matthews took a blade from beneath his cloak, and swiftly jammed it against the Woman’s neck. He stopped short of slitting her throat, instead allowing a thin thread of blood to roll down her skin.
“You caused this.” he spat, hand trembling as though fighting back the desire to slice her throat open there and then.
“I didn’t invite people to a public execution. I didn’t torture innocents into false confessions, and I certainly didn’t kill anyone.”
She had pushed her neck into the blade as she spoke, so he had had to pull it back. “Explain to me how I caused this, Mr Matthews.”
Before he could speak, the Beast’s jaws clamped down on his shoulder and he was forced to drop the weapon. He screamed in agony as the Beast released him and allowed him to fall to his knees before the Woman.
He held the wound tightly, blood seeping through his fingers as the Beast growled just inches from his face. He closed his eyes, smelling the blood on the Beast’s hot breath as he prepared himself for the end.
But the end didn’t come.
He opened his eyes, expecting to see those of the Beast staring back at him. But there were no living eyes on him when he opened his. The Woman and the Beast had vanished into the darkness, unseen and unheard. The only eyes upon him now were those of the villagers that lay dead around him.
Matthews, clutching his oozing wound, was alone on his knees beneath the full moon- filled with dread for what the next one would bring.
End
About Jakob Angerer: Jakob Angerer is a writer from the Wirral, UK. He is a big fan of horror, and has a soft spot for werewolves.
