Dear random citizen,
You know of me.
Sorry, I could never resist a touch of the dramatic.
But you do know of me, don’t you? I’m the name that you’ve been whispering in the streets, a bit fearfully as if you’re afraid that you’ll suffer the same fate as me.
You won’t. I’m the face that decorated the sides of buildings and fronts of newspapers for over fifty days, accompanied by the words, “REPORT TO GUARDS IMMEDIATELY IF SEEN”. Have you seen those drawings? Atrocious. My eyes are not set that wide apart. Even if you live in a well, you still should have heard the fairly loud commotion last night when they finally captured me. Do you live in a well? Try to find better housing accommodations, please.
Oh, last night. It was quite a mess, wasn’t it? Were you there to see it? I must admit, a part of me wishes that you were not. It was a bit embarrassing after all. Bloody. Explosions and magic. Never really my favorite. But it was still considerably entertaining, which does make me more inclined to wish that you had been there. I’ll send out some invitations next time.
Now, at this point, you may be wondering why you’ve gotten this letter. Don’t get too excited. There’s no big motive or secret that will turn your life around. You see, they’re going to chop off my head. Did you already hear of that too? I wonder if they announce those things nowadays. A hundred years ago, they kept it secret. Too barbaric, or something of the sort. The ladies would definitely disapprove of people getting killed in public, don’t you think? I don’t think they even know that people can bleed. My, they might even faint. Especially if it’s me getting killed. They did like me quite a bit, after all. I’ve always been a bit of a handsome one.
I digress. It seems that I’m allowed one letter before I die. Not two, just one. I know, barbaric. Even better: I don’t have any friends. So here I am, sitting in a dirty cell, writing a letter to you, random citizen. Don’t worry. This letter will not bring you any harm magically. Believe me, they’re looking over my shoulder right now to make sure.
The guards smell terrible. I wonder if they ever shower?
I’m running out of space. Sorry. Certainly, feel free to come to my execution in two days. I might not even be there!
Have a magical day,