Creepy Pasta

THUCK!

Another clean and effortless kill. No second swing needed. Executioner liked that. He watched the head roll away to an upright position facing him. Its expression was not one of remorse, pain or abject terror like most of his kills but it was one of morbid curiosity.  Executioner thought nothing of it as he waited for the next prisoner sentenced for death.

THUCK!

Sharpen the blade. Clean the blade. Sharpen the blade. Clean the blade. Executioner's duties were simple. He liked simplicity. On occasion he would be called upon to swing the blade. He watched the head from his latest kill roll next to the first head, once again facing him with maniacal glee on its face.

THUCK!

The crowd always murmured on execution days. Executioner rarely registered the noise. Rarely registered the crier shouting out crimes and condemnations. Ignored the cries of the guilty. The latest head rolled away and rested like the others, facing him with fascinated horror.

Executioner went to itch his nose found he couldn't.  Must be more tired than he thought. He tried again to no avail. His back started to hurt.
". . .guilty of murder!"

Sounds about right he thought.

". . .poor souls!"

Yep.  

Executioner looked at the heads. There were a lot more them than he realized. A whole crowd of them. All looking at him.

". . .couldn't quit!"

Well, yes. It was his job.

"Death!"

THUCK!

New Executioner watched the head of Old Executioner roll away. The crowd roared. He ignored it. The crier called for the next prisoner. He barely heard it. He leaned on the hilt of the blade. He thought about how tremendously sharp it was.