[ OT ] If you had to choose , which of your prompt responses would you say is the best you 've written ?

*An Occurrence at Birch Creek Bridge* 
 
 It is a cold November day when they finally get around to killing us. The sleet comes down steadily all morning. They march us down the street through town. Everyone's lined up on the sidewalk in attendance. I guess they want everyone to see what happens to saboteurs. Twenty two of us they're killing. The local baker is the oldest, eighty three and Daniel's only sixteen. Shit, I told his sister I'd take care of him. I told her nothing would happen to the boy. Well, what's one more broken promise in this shitty world. But why does Sam have to be by my side? She's my oldest friend in the world. She's all I have left. Even now she flashes me a smile. As if to tell me it will all be ok. No, it wo n't. 
 
 How many times did I stopped by her father's flower shop? How many hours did we spend in the coffee shop downtown? How many nights did we spend out under the stars making love? Not enough. So I look into her eyes now, making each second last a lifetime. She smiles again, and I can not help myself but to smile back. She starts to hum a song. One I taught her. `` Sam Hall'' I teased her with it growing up together. Samantha Hall's her name. I thought I was so witty back then. Now, I think the song is fitting. 
 
 The crowd is staring daggers at the soldiers. Everyone is well aware what will happen once we reach the bridge. They have brothers, sisters, sons, fathers among the condemned. It is only the machine guns on the APC's that are keeping the crowds in line. The soldiers know this. The march is silent, save for the disciplined cadence of the garrison and the shuffle of the prisoners. My boots have seen better days, and Lars' going barefoot. They took him from his bed three nights ago. Emily's making a stranger sound, courtesy of her crutches. She was crippled in an ambush gone bad. The satchel charge went off too early and took her left foot with it. It's a shame, she used to be a ballet dancer, though it wo n't matter soon anyway. 
 
 We've reached the bridge. It's not a bad bridge, if that's your thing. I've crossed it plenty of times. Only now am I paying close attention to it, to the rusting bolts and the chipping paint peeling away from the spots of aging iron. It's seen better days. Odd how it is, how knowing your live will soon be extinguished and the knowledge makes everything seem so much clearer, as if the fog of life's been lifted and you've finally been allowed to see the world as it truly is. 
 
 So, will they hang us or shoot us? I'm guessing on the former. Some nice scarecrows waving in the breeze to send a clear and grisly message. `` This is what happens to people who try be a hero.'' My heart sinks when I start seeing them tie our legs together. They are tying us by twos. I know what is going to happen. Sam looks at me, I try to look calm. But I am sure she can tell. She's known me for eighteen years. Never have I won at poker with her. She can tell when I'm lying. They tie Sam and me together, back to back. Our legs are bound as well. They are going to throw us into the river alive, to drown. Then comes both my most fervent prayer and my greatest nightmare. 
 
 They shoot Timothy Cooper in the head, and leave Alec alive, shoving them both over the side and into the freezing water. Tim's body and Alec do n't surface. Only the rippling water of the river marks their grave. They are n't even bothering to put both out of their misery. Stinking misers are n't going to waste two bullets when one can do the job. So they continue down the line. Daniel gets the bullet, a small mercy, and Nathan gets to drown. He rained curses on them as they threw him over the side. Emily screams as she falls towards the icy water. So on down the line. 
 
 Oh, God. If there is any justice in this world, let Sam get the bullet, let her die easy. Let me die painfully, that's all I want. Her, not me. *Her*, not me. Please. I beg you. 
 
 I hear the sound of boots approaching. I hear the sound of a hammer being cocked back. 
 
 Please. 
 
 I hear the bang of the gunshot. I hear it! 
 
 Her blood soaks into my shoulder, her head slumping back to rest against me as if she was just asleep. Her blood is white hot against my skin, and joy burns within my breast like fire. 
 
 *Thank you. * 
 
 Tears of happiness drip down my cheeks as I smile. 
 
 `` Thank you.'' It is a whisper. 
 
 `` Thank you.'' Louder. 
 
 `` Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.'' Her blood stains my shirt a brilliant crimson. 
 
 `` Thank you! Thank you!'' Unashamed tears carve channels through the ash on my face. 
 
 They tip Sam's body and me over the railing like some macabre human sacrifice, I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, `` Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!'' I keep screaming as the wind rushes past my ears, Sam's blood blinding my eyes. The water is cold, terribly cold. But I do not care. I'm too happy to care. The world grows colder, and dimmer, the shadows drawing nearer. The last of the air escapes me as I shout joy, allowing the freezing water to fill my lungs. Darker. Darker still as all light fades away and surrenders to darkness. But then, a spark, fragile and beautiful and pure. Her.
