The Tell-Tale Moon

By Jon Nixon

His head rolled effortlessly away from the bloodied blade: a clean cut.

Staring back at the guillotine, he willed the rest of his body to reunite, wanting to deliver one last killer line.

Time seemed to freeze once the metal fell. The rope’s heavy snap and the thud that followed set in motion a tick towards the inevitable.

The spectral moon illuminated the scene for a brief moment: its cold light laying bare the torment, casting the scene in an anguished glow that belonged on the stage.

Then, it retreated, sheathing its beam silently—No final curtain call would be required.