Yesteryear Fiction

Last Rites
By Gary Hewitt


The corpse was an easy target. Thomas yanked the leggings past his victim’s ankles and eased them away from the compliant body. He cast them into a pile before opening the man’s leather jerkin. Thomas discovered a gold chain upon a ruddy neck. The necklace passed over the head despite the width of the dead soldier’s huge head.
Thomas grabbed the ankles and turned the body over. His hands pulled away the ugly undergarments and revealed a generous portion of masculinity. He eased out a dagger eager for employment.
“You know what to do.”
Thomas reached down to the genitalia before parting them from an unresisting foe. He turned the sexless body onto the front before removing his longsword. He needed two strokes to part head from corpse.
“Stick him with the rest.”
Thomas pulled the body to a long trench filled with tar, oil and scores of mutilated victims. The corpse landed atop of a young boy. He skewered Henry’s head onto a pole and thrust the macabre totem into the ground.
“Remember Thomas, never lose in war. Vae Victus.”
His commander dropped a torch into the trench. Thomas prayed he would never hear the words from his enemy.


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Gary Hewitt is a writer who lives in a small village in Kent in the UK. He has had several stories and poems published including editions of M-Brane, Linguistic Erosion and Morpheus Tales. His style does tend to be dark and is rather unique. He is a member of the Hazlitt Arts Writers’ Group.