Stoned | Teen Ink


December 7, 2009
By ~Wolf-Woman~ PLATINUM, Carthage, Missouri
~Wolf-Woman~ PLATINUM, Carthage, Missouri
24 articles 10 photos 31 comments

MAMA!” a little girl with matted, brown hair yelled out. She tried to reach her dyeing mother, but was stopped by a Roman solider, wearing armor with a sword dangling at his side. The young girl tried dashing aside, but she was welcomed by a sword plunging deep into her abdomen. The sword had no trouble slicing through her scrawny body. Not only had a mother died that day, but a daughter along side with her, and I had to stand by and watch the entire thing, I always did.

I have witnessed a suffering unlike any other, a suffering with death creeping up slowly, but soon afterwards. Intensifying pain, major swelling, numbness, and then nothing. That was the cycle each and every time. And thanks to me, and my brothers, it happens.
My victims are bound, rope rubbing them raw, stripped down, and forced into the streets of Jerusalem, to be punished and ridiculed. The Christians are literally thrown into the middle of the road, rocks skinning the length of their body as they skid across the ground, until coming to an abrupt halt. Shrieks with glee from the gathering audience and deathly sobs, more like moans from the remaining relatives fill up the town square. Once my victim is in place it’s my time to take part in ending the innocent Christian’s life. The Roman soldiers pick my brothers and I up, against our will, and hurl us at the condemned. I am the cause. I am the one afflicting all the pain. All the deceased are on my head. It’s my entire fault.
As us rocks are flung towards them, some try escaping, but stumble and fall due to binding on legs and arms, and others are forced back into the center of the building swarm of the masses. When that first rock strikes, just like a viper, it causes a petrifying sound unlike any other to erupt, bypassing the innocent lips of my victims. I can still hear the ear shattering, bloodcurdling scream echoing in my mind. They try scrunching up into little balls for protection and a feeling of safety, but nothing can shield the immense amount of excruciating pain. Nothing can save them from their fate, the fate of the stones.

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