It was a gloomy day in London, England. Of course, the year, 1534, has been quite depressingsince King Henry VIII has been obsessing over the fact that he cannot produce a male heir. Josiah Turner, London’s best butcher, was very optimistic and did not let the depression days bother him. That optimism was about to cease for eternity though, for one day, while he was fixing up his chicken cutlets, he was approached by Thomas Wosley, the king’s inspector.

     “Josiah Turner, I presume?” asked Thomas. Josiah, who was as frail and pale as a corpse, replied, “Ye-yes. My name’s Josiah Turner. Is somethin’ wrong Inspecta?” Thomas examined him with his coal-colored eyes with malice and disgust in his face. “Yer under arrest for the murder of Elias Cromwell under the king’s orders.” Thomas’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Josiah. He was known for his compassion and kindness. How ever could he kill anyone, especially Elias Cromwell, who was a member of the king’s court? Thomas’s men grasped Josiah’s wrist firmly, and slapped a pair of rusty, iron chains onto his wrists and ankles. The men loaded Josiah in Thomas’s cart and headed to the castle.

     It was extremely dark at the castle on account of the king and his court mourning the loss of Elias. Thomas and his men pulled Josiah out of the cart and escorted him to the king’s castle. As they entered, a circle of prominent men, robed in red, gazed upon Josiah. An old, brittle man stepped out of the circle and scuffled to Josiah, murmuring, “So yer the lad who murdered Elias Cromwell. Elias was my only son you know. My name’s Samuel, and I will be pleased to be in charge of yer fate.”

     After the encounter with the men in red, Thomas and his men led Josiah through three chambers and four spiraling staircases until they reached the dungeon. “This is yer new home now. At supper we’ll bring you a heaping pile of fresh ol’ mush.” Thomas pushed Josiah into his cell and locked the door, grinning a grimacing smile. Josiah observed the dungeon. It was cold, encrusted with black, oozing mold. Rats with devilish eyes scurried into the heaping pile of hay. Josiah sat on a wooden stool, thinking, “What am I going to do now?” He thought of how he could prove himself innocent, but he never had the brain capacity. That’s how he became a butcher in the first place! All Josiah could do was pray, pray to God to present him with a miracle to release he from his hell hole.