A whisper, the softest of sounds jerked the young man from his light and greatly troubled sleep. Momentarily startled, the youth gazed around him. Fear set in as he fought to recall his whereabouts. Quick as a cheetah racing for its prey, the memories flooded into his still sleep befuddled mind. Desperately, he attempted to shove them out of his memory. He had no desire to recall that dreadful night at the inn. He had one too many drinks, and boasted far too much, but those weren’t the actions that had landed him into this dark and forgotten corner of the king’s prison. Vividly, he saw in his mind the cramped room full of laughing people; both guests and guards alike. He recalled how he himself ascended one of the many tables spaced around the room. Silence fell as the men somber enough to think stopped their conversation to listen to him. To the horror of his friends, he insulted the merchant class. Drunk as the guards were, they knew their duty to uphold the peace. An insult aimed at the merchants and indirectly the crown, was not to be allowed. In rare cases deemed by the king, it was punishable by death. Rough and work hardened hands dragged him from the table and out into the yard. Protests and pleas went unheeded as the veteran soldiers half carried him to the dreaded prison. There in a dank and freezing cell they left him, perhaps to rot.
“Iricai!� there was that whisper again, but louder this time, more urgent. Whose name was being called? Then the memory came flooding back to the boy. It was his name. However, he could not figure out who would have the means and desire visit him here?
“Iricai, it’s me Sephus, can you hear me?� Of course, he thought, Sephus was a guard at the king’s prison. He was also one of Iricai’s closer friends. Relief swept over the weary boy. Sephus would help him escape. He had probably come here to tell Iricai of his great plan.
“Yes, Sephus, I can hear you. How am I getting out?� Iricai spoke softly, but he could not hide his relief.
“Iricai… I can’t help you escape. I came to tell you that you have been sentenced to death.â€Â� Sephus spoke softly. His words were sparse, but they conveyed his sorrow and grief. “I’m sorry.â€Â� And he was, but Iricai was overwhelmed by his emotions. Betrayal and sorrow were too much for him to bear when added to his fear. The young man howled his anger at the night. The sound was terrifying, heartbreaking, and defiant. It was the cry of a cornered beast, fueled by his last few breaths. Sephus retreated as the cry of pain tapered off into a sigh of defeat.
Morning came and Iricai was dragged to the court room. Had the youth not been on trail he would have laughed. As it were, he was sweating from fear and his heart was pounding loud enough to wake a hibernating bear. There was no justice here. The word of the king was law, and today the king fancied executing Iricai for treason. Even worse, he fancied it to be done now.
While he walked in a trance towards the gallows, the guards supported his staggered steps. Many brave men boast that they fear nothing. Iricai had made the same boasts recently, and yet, he knew fear today. It was petrifying. He was too young to die. He was barely 18 and not yet married. Yet here he was, walking to certain death. The boy would have struggled, but he had no strength left. He closed his eyes tightly and begged the gods for mercey. There was no answer. The earth vanished from under his feat and with a terrible jolt the boy hung.
Sweating, the middle aged man rolled out of the warmth and comfort of his bed. Stumbling and gasping for breath, he made his way to the basin of water on the other side of his relatively small and unfurnished room. Dunking his head into the freezing water, he attempted to wipe the dreadful dream from his mind. It’s just a nightmare, he tried to convince himself. And yet, his mind refused to let the dream go. I was lucky, he thought. And indeed he was. That day at the inn, he had shouted unchecked insults. They were not aimed at the crown, but rather at one of the lower merchant families. However, he did eventually pay the price for his harsh words. When the news of the incident traveled to the ears of the insulted merchants, they closed their doors to him and his relatives for one long year. It was a harsh punishment, but far better than the one his mind had created. He was startled out of his troubled thoughts to hear the bells of the tower strike six times. Forgetting about his restless night, he rushed off to his post as a patrol guard at the main gate to the kingdom.
Sorry it took me so long. There are actually many of us who enjoy writing here on FF… myself included 
I know Shanthi is one as well… I’m rather rusty, haven’t dusted off my creativity for awhile, but let me give you some suggestions on your story. Changes are in [color=red]red.
, those changes do make it flow better. scrambles of to revise her work before it’s time to hand it in 
Not quite sure how I missed them lol
, I don’t get while its titled Irony.