Janx recognized the chamber immediately. His dreaming mind ticked off the information without need to resort to his field journals: European continent…Italy…Rome…Il Palazzo di Giustizia…Camera #27 to be specific.
It was, he was forced to concede, a most impressive room. From the polished marble floor tiles to the frescoed ceilings, from the gilded chandeliers to the intricately-carved woodworking of the walls, it was the epitome of ornate grandeur…the perfect marriage of form to function.
The scene wavered...refocused…liveried guardsmen, sunlight glinting from their halberds, led robed judges to their seats for the trial…his trial?…to begin.
The nightmare ended, as always, with crowds of unwashed peasants chanting “Colpevole!” before the axe descended to remove his highly-educated head from his neck. Then…it all began again.
This story was written for the weekly Visual Dare flash fiction prompt: ornate. As a personal challenge, I have been stringing the prompts from week to week into an ongoing story. This marks the 13th such and previous installments may be found here.