The screams of my brothers and the smell of burning flesh cut through the damp air of the oubliette. I am cast down to the depths of hell, a small pit. The walls stand high above me. I only have room to stand on burned and blistered feet. My hands are tied so tight that they’ve turned the color of wine.
“Lord forgive them; they know not what they do!” I screamed a thousand times. The King of France ordered this upon us. We would not lend more gold, so they now torture us for heresy. But the King and the Pope are the only heretics here.
My body is next to burn on the pyre. After they break my bones and extract my confession, The gargled scream of my brothers as the horses scream and run in opposite directions.
A giant brute pulls me out of the prison and straps me to a table. The lashes of the whip tear through my skin. The brute turns a wheel and my muscles stretch and tear, my bones pop out of their sockets. Bright spots of pain move through mine eyes.
“Confess!” speaks the brute.
But, they’ll obtain a curse before a confession.
“May the Lord curse you, and your punishment be death. May our blood stain you, and may this day be remembered in infamy. The thirteenth, the day that Judas betrayed Christ for thirty pieces of silver. So have the King and the Pope betrayed their loyal knights for our coffers. This day will never be pure again, and you all will perish.”
The pain is greater than hell itself as the brute tears me in half. Our blood will mark this day, and our memories will never perish. I say this on Friday the 13th of October, in the year of our Lord 1307.
The Vault of Dreams and Nightmares 