Title

I've thought of a title for my short story: Burlap Sunrise: A New Nightmare from Alexander English. What do you all think of that?

New Nightmare

It was a cold morning. Almost to the point of freezing. Not quite though. The burlap sack kept my face warm. It also blocked out the early morning sunlight. I had to imagine it. Not quite bright, but just gray. Maybe just a haze if you will, hovering over the crowd. What crowd you ask? Why, the crowd awaiting a show, the crowd terrified by their government's show of power, and the crowd waiting to cry out against my crimes. I can't really hear them if they are saying anything. I'm sure their mumbling to themselves and others about the terrible deeds I've done and how they're glad I'm being dealt with. So efficient I might add. It was barely a few days since they found me, tried me, and then...Well, you know. Why? How did it come to this? I really want to know. Perhaps I should have read the newspaper they gave me in the cell. That might have shed some light on the subject. Who would have known that the publics' villain knows less of his crimes than they do. It's too late to tell you what happened. There are too many details, not enough time. Lets just say that I'm innocent. Those who know me will find better comfort in that fact (farce). I said I didn't know what happened, that's a lie, I'll let you all know that much. Why would I lie in a time like this? Why not? What punishment awaits me that I have not already accepted? Eternal damnation? Maybe. Criticism? Sure. Pain? Most definitely. You see, I lose nothing. Not even sleep. That would be a shame though, to lose sleep over ones own demise. We would never get rest if we did that. Why should a scheduled death be any different.
I can walk you know! It's merely a mumble. The aforementioned burlap sack sees to that. They seem to think I'm a toddler that needs to be brought to the correct location. Maybe better described as a blind man. No, that's too horrible. Is it bad that I think killing blind men is worse than killing infants? Maybe. I'm not too concerned right now.
It's funny, I've spent my life trying to determine how life works, that I never tried to live it. Did I hurt someone in the process? Not that I can think of. Maybe it was those pitiful underlings I crushed beneath my heal in my quest for knowledge! Maniacal laugh goes here. Nope, never did that. Just thought you would feel better about my demise if I was evil. It's kind of poetic I think. The villain gets what's coming to him and the heroes save the people from their terrible reign. That's what they'll say. I was a menace to society, no one was safe, not even the children and their dolls! Yes, that was my evil plan, I was going to rid the world of stitched life-forms! More maniacal laughter.
The crowd silences, or so I imagine. My crimes read aloud. Wish I could hear those. Then come the drums. I can hear those, actually, I can feel them. That lets me know it's coming. Again, I can walk my own path. I can find my own destiny. No need to shove me there.
I do need a little help being shoved onto the cutting board though. I don't know anyone that that comes naturally to them. Maybe a carrot friend of mine. I should have asked his opinion on the matter. The drums stop. Perfect silence.
The burlap sack is removed, the light is more brilliant than I could have imagined, my sight is overwhelmed. The crowd, I can hear now, is not quiet. They are very vocal about my crimes. They are also very pleased about this outcome. Maybe I should shout some prophetic verse of doom or maybe sing a hymn, everyone love a martyr. No, that's not me. The crowd and the world comes into focus. This reality isn't as stagnant as the burlap sack. It moves, it breathes, and there is a man over me with an ungodly large axe. My lungs close up, breath is only a suggestion to my body. The axe swings. I couldn't even tell you what the sound is like. I can feel it though.
I've heard that pain goes to the brain quickly. My nerves should win some sort of prize for this one. Life fades, but does not disappear. The bastard didn't finish me! It'll take another swing. The executioner pulls the axe from my bone, lifting my body with it. He uses his shit-filled boot to push my body off the axe. The crowd cheers and he lifts for another swing. That sound again. Indescribable. The feelings go, life ends in a few seconds. One last thought in this world, I love my wife, my family and friends...
Wait, carrots can't talk.

I'm Alex

Richard is absolutely positively the best guy in the world I've ever met, and you should listen to me because as I said before, I'm Alex! Gamestop is my favorite place, and we shall crush the vile forces of EB from the inside, because we are Gamestop, and like the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, will eat up all their T-cells like so many delicious bacon cheeseburgers. Batman Cool! I'm ALEX!!!!!!!!