Pushing my way through the dense entanglement of arms. Seeing the awaiting blade, my mouth gaped in a horrific awe.
Why was I even here to witness such an animosity? Such a disturbing, depressing show of one’s great fall?
“Whore.” “Liar.” “Witch.” “Heathen.” All these words were hissed and chortled over. It anguished me to hear it, why I don’t know.
Maybe she was all of these things. I never knew her. Then why did my soul lament? Why was I here to see this sickening show?
I am no queen. But I strive for love, I strive for power, I strive to be the best at what I can be.
But sometimes, this can all backfire on you. Sometimes you will succeed and fail in front of the whole world to see.
The hunger grew wild. Hissing, writhing snakes. Ready to strike as their prey was lifted through the crowd.
Ascended to her platform of awaiting heinous doom. Readying her head for that one final bow.
What once must have been draped in the finest of glories was now stripped of it all. She was nothing but a bare child.
No monster, no demon. Just a girl, who had tasted it all, and gone so far. Her dreams had thus run too wild.
All she wanted was love. All she wanted was power. But you can’t have both of those without paying a price.
And that she paid dearly…It cost her, her life…
Despised by her people. Replaced by her King.
Her hope had vanished, she would now be nothing more than the legend of a failed Queen.
They cheered and roared, the sorceress was now gone.
No one stopped to ponder, like me, and see what had really gone wrong.
My heart laden with grief, I understood her ambition. You just wanted the world, didn’t you, my friend?
Quiet now, the jesters are afar. I kiss the breeze that passes over what remains of the beautiful late Anne Boleyn.