It was when Jack found his hands and legs tied unceremoniously to the gigantic cross, crumbling under its damned weight, sweating in the harsh June sun, that he realized something. He was in trouble, big time. The sentry nearby threw the whip again his sweating body.
“Ok, Ok. I’m hoisting up. It ain’t gonna happen if you keep slapping that damnation on my back. And, you don’t have all day, mate.”
He managed to stand up, his leg wavering like a ship on a stormy sea.
“How many leagues from here, matey?”, he asked the sentry. Continue reading