Every fiber of the list, every second that has passed before us, preludes to this very moment.
Swarms of flies buzz, and Jacques wait in carnivorous, bated breath as we close in around the Bastille.
A thousand fires burn.
The silence is so loud that I start to laugh. A deep rumbling from within, the start of a thunderstorm. Now the whole crowd is laughing too, with a mania that is unstoppable.
The lightning strikes.
Sinister weapons are lashed out of pockets, glinting silver in the moonlight and come back dripping crimson.
I lift my skirts as I step over the bodies of fallen insects, hardly sparing them a glance. My eyes have never swayed from my mission.
Find the governor. Let his blood flow over the raised flags of the revolutionists.
*****
The governor's head is off.
The flies buzz once more, and I sense that now they too can smell the reek of the blood as longingly as I do.
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