Into the jaws of death. Into the mouth of hell.
painting by Richard Caton Woodville JR
The look was slow, drawn, an icicle spear hanging from a tree. It was cold, beautiful and utterly ruthless. I stood transfixed by it, unable to shift my weight or even lean away.
It drew me forward, a caterpillar willingly edging across a razor. I wanted to hear the judgement, feel the pronouncement, and in…