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The Execution of Lord Guilford Dudley, 1554 In the Mind of the Executioner.
By Mitchell , home school
He sighed as he slipped his hood over his head. Why couldn't I just put 'is bloody thing on once I git there? Wouldn't sweat lika pig and trip over stuff tha' way. Neverless, William hefted his oversized axe onto his shoulder and headed out the door. On the street, people scattered in every which direction as the giant black-clad man lumbered toward Tower Hill. Jeez, look at 'em. They don't scatter like tha' when I don't 'ave my hood and axe with 'e. Don' they know I'm the same guy tha' sells 'em taters?. . . Eh, bugger 'em. It was quite a long walk to Tower Hill, made all that much longer by the reaction of the townspeople. 'Eck, this bleedin' axe is heavy. I gotta live closer ta work. Eventually, the massive Tower of London came into view, with Tower Hill at its base. It became obvious that it was an important person today, for a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle, yelling and jeering at the people on the platform on the hill. Bloody 'eck, who is it 'is time, the King of France or somthin'? The people parted as William waded through them towards the raised platform. Four guards were wrestling with the unlucky subject as William's heavy boots thumped up the steps to the wooden platform. The man, putting up a useless fight against the heavily armed guards, seemed well dressed and groomed. Ahh, a or-ist-o-crat. Haven't done one of those ina while. The guards struggled to push the flailing man toward the block at the center of the platform. Waiting for the guards to position the man correctly, William propped his axe against his toe. Wonder wot I'll 'ave for supper. Maybe some chicken. Yeah, chicken with a nice bunch a carrots. Finally, the guards forced the writhing man down to the block. Neck resting on the scored granite slab, the man began to mutter something. Al'righty then. William slowly stomped towards the kneeling man, lifting his axe off of the ground. The crowd grew silent. The guards jumped away as he approached, leaving the doomed man paralyzed in fear under the shadow of the oversized axe. William took aim. Well, sorry bud. King 'n' Country 'n' all.
Swish.
Thud.
Oh, an' I'll bet I can git some beets. I like beets. An' puddin', puddin's even better. William stomped off, lost in thought, his growling stomach apparent to all.
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by Katelyn
Hello, my name is Matoaka, or as you may know me as,
Pocahontas. Please, just call me
Matoaka. Pocahontas is an Indian name meaning "spoiled one" or "the naughty
one". When I was about
10 or 11, Captain John Smith came to the Pawhatan Nation to explore new lands.
Our tribe treated him
as a respected guest. Our tribe fed that hungry soon to be trader and gave him
a place to sleep.
Captain John Smith turned on our tribe in 1612 when I
was 17 years old. He kid napped me
while I was on a social visit. I was trapped in Jamestown for more than two
years. While in Jamestown I
married John Rolfe to get out of prison. I then was known as Rebecca Rolfe.
About two years later I was taken to England where the
Virginia Company of London used me in
their propaganda campaign to support their colony. My son, husband and I set
off to Virginia in March of
1617. I was told I had to get off when we suddenly stopped at Gravesend. I
died there on March 21,
1617. I can't believe those English people. The story of me that I know you
are all fond of is a big fake. I
never saved Captain John Smith from death while amongst my tribe. He was a
welcomed visitor.
Captain John Smith didn't even tell or report about that story until 17 years
after it supposedly
happened. Over the years the story has been repeated and has become part of
history when it is really
just a folktale made up' by Captain Smith and then passed off as the truth by
historians and companies
like Walt Disney.