I chose eight witnesses to see that my story is told. For to long there has only been seven. Robbed was I by monsters, by the kinsman of the three that cower before me. A replacement is needed with a story worth telling and these sheep have a story I want told.
The first stuttered, so was laid to rest. Left with an Accuser and a Bystander I rocked my finger between them. Each making their case for why it should not be them that falls. Neither offered his life for the other. Their only concern was diminishing their roll in my hanging.
The child’s rhyme I used for the choosing. Did not dictate the movement of my finger only when it would stop. When the rhyme came to its end, the Bystander found him self it. He continued to beg but I have no need for nine. I took his life, his friend took his roll and did nothing.