At the Noose I’ll Tell

              I count the bricks that make up the wall of my cell. It’s hard to focus though. Past the iron bars that lock me in are harsh white lights. There’s even a red one somewhere that casts its shadow over the blue and white linoleum floor. Even with all the lights though, there are still some dim places, some shadows- dark spots. It has been a long time since I’ve been afraid of what lurks in the dark. I am afraid now of the things that are watching me from the recesses of life. They must be able to taste how close I am to death; I bet they are imagining the taste of my flesh on their palate. I shut my eyes at the thought of being torn apart by the Devil’s advocates, but I only see it partake on the blank slate of my lids.

—–

            “Look, look!” Emily shot her finger toward the heavens above. I followed her point to a cloud that rolled across the atmosphere. “It’s a bunny!” Her shrill voice gave away her youth. The smile over my mouth would not be stopped by any force of man. The cloud did not look like a bunny to me. Instead it looked more like a melted slab of chocolate, but there was no threat strong enough for me to tell her that. Over the blanket I rolled my head to look at her. Her red hair was haphazardly drawn back into a single braid, wild tufts had fought their way out of their restraints. The smile over her mouth was so overwhelmingly ignorant of the horrors of the world it nearly hurt me. Emily was a myrmidon to splendor, to bliss. One day she would find the world is not such a peaceful place. One day it would slap her across the face of what it is like to be hurt. 

            “Emily?” From the house I heard Tilly’s voice. I glanced back to see her brown hair waving in the wind. When Emily did not answer, I slid my eyes back to her. She was still infatuated with the sky, with the white smudges of cloud that meant far more to her than I think I’d ever know.

            “Emily,” I whispered her name as softly as the breeze that twisted the blades of grass at the edges of our blanket. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t hear me. I wanted her to continue staring up at the heavens. I wanted her to be blissful. Her face leaned my way though, the smile ebbing none at all, and I could see her question in her eyes. What, that question said. “Your mother wants you.”

            Quickly, full of anticipation, Emily sat up and twisted her torso to search for her mother behind her. “Emily,” Tilly called her name again, “could you come here for a minute?” Emily’s mother’s voice was as smooth as the sun’s light that shone down upon me. Every time I heard her talk I remembered why I told her I loved her every moment I was able to. Right then I could almost hear the sound of her laugh rustle in the wind.

            Where she was at on the blanket, Emily pulled herself onto her feet, and she bounded toward her mother. I listened to her bare feet sprint through the yard toward the house. She giggled a bit and I guessed it was from the blades that tickled her legs as she went. Along with her childish chatter, I could hear the clothes flap on the clothesline. I watched the fabric as it ripped against the wind. There was a white collared shirt that looked much like my own. One of Emily’s dresses, purple plaid, waved to me as if to say hello. The rest of the laundry was socks, black hoods, and undershirts.

            Just before Emily disappeared into the house I glanced back and saw one of Tilly’s smiles wash the world clean for a moment. Simply a moment. Our eyes met then, and that moment felt like all I would ever need.

—–

            The harsh sound of keys jangling draws my attention back to the real world, the one I am too afraid to bare. “Time’s up.” The stern voice of the jailer drills its way into my ear canal. For a while I don’t move, just listen to him struggle to remember the correct key to the cell. There are only three, but he has to try each one two different times, the right way and the wrong way. Slowly, reality is sinking down to the depths of my being. I’m coming to realize what this life has to offer.

            Finally the cell gate yawns open, the hinges protesting their old age. I swallow and force my legs over the edge of the bench. Under my knees the corner of the wooden plank digs in almost like a preview of the discomforting hell that is coming my way. Pushing myself to my feet, I walk slowly to the jailer who points toward the ground and rotates his wrist. I turn. Around my wrists he tightens the cuffs. As they pinch I hardly flinch, only feel the skin around my eyes twitch. The cuffs are unnecessary. I will not try to run. What would be my point in only delaying the inevitability of life’s painful demise? Once the restraints are on, the man grabs my bicep and steers me from what was my last room. He leads me to the door of the jail. I watch as he stretches his arm out to grab the knob. The hair on his knuckles tells me he’s seen too much of the world to be afraid of anything- even leading men to their deaths.

—–

            When I built up the courage to leave my perfect happiness there in the yard, I stood and folded the blanket after shaking the bugs and vegetation from it. Tucking the fabric under my arm, I shoved my hands in my pockets and glanced around once more at the world. I told myself to take in the serenity now, breathe it in while I could before it slipped from my grasp. Though I knew I could not stand there enough, I decided that after a few seconds I could call myself satisfied. I began across the lawn toward the house while the last of the clouds rolled by overhead. The skies looked clear from now on, only blue, only flawless.

            “What’s for lunch, Till?” I asked as I shut the door behind me. While my fist was still around the handle, I took in the craftsmanship of the piece. Well built. “Till?” Another second I wasted my time staring at the door, but when I was answered with silence, I turned on my toes.

—–

            The jail door opens and the bright light of day collides with my retinas. I thought it would have been night by now. Time goes slower when you are awaiting death, I assume. Not only am I met with blinding rays, but I am met with eyes, stares, whispers and mumbles. I blink away the sun and take in the wave of people that are gathered around me. A few of them are turned to talk to the person next to them, but others are staring at me directly; fearless to look me in the eye. I watch them back. I take in their condescending gazes, my ears stretch to hear their degrading comments. I am not hiding from them. While the jailor leads me forward over the ground the mob like gathering splits as if I am the ax and they are the wood. The farther I walk- with the man’s hand around my arm getting tighter and tighter, the cuffs feeling heavier and heavier- the weight of all the stares begins to take a toll. I can only imagine how this appears to them. I can only wonder what it is like to see me now. The questions they must have… there are not answers for them all. One man, standing on the very edge of the crowd watches me with half lidded eyes. Age is apparent on his wrinkled skin and throughout his long since greyed hair. My heart pounds when I see him. Very slowly he lowers his chin until it almost touches his chest, then he pulls it back up again. It was a nod. It was not, however, a nod to tell me it was alright; it was a nod saying good riddance.

—–

            “Till?” I said her name again. “Tilly?” Silence. I made a bit of a face as I walked into the living room. Neither Tilly nor Emily where there, so I set the blanket on the rear of the couch. For a moment I had debated if there could still be insects within the quilt, but I let it be anyway. “Emily?” When I entered the kitchen, the two were not there either. On the counter next to the sink was a pitcher of lemonade steeping. Round slices of lemon swam within the water, their pyramids of fruit flesh shining luminous yellow amongst the liquid.

            Smooth as brush strokes I heard Tilly’s voice then. It wafted from her room at the end of the hallway. She was saying something to her daughter, but to me the words were solely mumbles; I was enamored anyway.

—–

            I finally split the crowd completely, and beyond them, I see what is to be my fate. Lifting my chin at it I take in a deep breath. The gallows stand strong and mighty, reminding me there will be no way to escape its already decimating fingers. My breathing begins to quicken and exit my nose in a quiet plead for mercy. I know I will not receive it.

—–

            When I gently pushed into the room Tilly brought her face up from a suitcase on her bed. Her mouth was open and her eyes were surreal. She looked like I had caught her peeking into the oven at a surprise meal I was cooking for her. Her learned face said far too much about her life, one I had managed to fall in love with. The depth of her eyes told me more than I wanted to hear at times, but I had always listened. In her fist was a well folded shirt. Against the dark fabric, a band of paled skin was obvious at the base of her ring finger. A sound in the corner moved my eyes. Emily was pulling another suitcase from the closet, her face red with effort. I felt my lips pull over my teeth. Something tugged at my intestines then, a feeling, I thought, I would never feel again.

            A sound burst like aerosol in the beginning of the house. So loud, it seemed, I thought I heard the lemonade pitcher crack.

—–

            In the breeze the noose is swaying. The rope has a voice that is wrapping around my conscious. It seems to sing to me, giving me a lullaby to cleanse the fear from the very marrow of my bones. The serenade will not work no matter how desperately it wants to though.

            Up the stairs the jailor guides me. I blankly follow, unaware now of my own movements. Beneath my feet the wooden steps creak, laughing at my soon to be departure. I wonder if the world knows? If anything knows?

—–

            First there had been screams. Then ugly silence. In between the two I cannot recall what had happened. There were two thumps. Two green ringed eyes. Two gasps. Two bursts of blood. But the order of them, I could not say.

            I was not sure how much time had passed. Shots had fired though. I had lost count after five. Black and white pounded on the rear panes of my vision. My body was hot and adrenaline flowed through my every vein. It did not do much for me though, because all I could do was sit where I was on the ground and watch the blood puddles grow. They had spread over the floor and with them I felt my sanity drain as well. The soul within me leaked. I wondered if one of the metal encapsulation of death had sunk into the lowest layers of my skin too- maybe deeper.

—–

            I stand here now on the surface of the gallows. Inches away the noose hangs; no eyes are needed for it to gaze into what is left of me as a man. I dare not stare back. The jailor steps away from me, returning to the ground. I do not watch him. I do not watch the crowd beneath me. Rather, I stare at the blue sky, the cloudless perfection that is the atmosphere of this unconcerned world.

            “Step forward,” comes the nocuous voice of the executioner. The man’s only job: slip the noose around my neck, tighten it, and let the boards fall out beneath my feet. I do as he says, my eyes scooting and latching upon his.The black hood over his head only lets me peer into his pupils. But that is all I need.

——

            I did not move until the police broke down the door and paraded in. They yanked me from where I sat, sending pain into me. There were only seconds for me to look back at what my life had held, but now they were red.

            The bedroom lapsed away from my vision and then I saw the wooden floor boards of the hallway. I counted our steps but lost count over ten. I was led through the kitchen, the circular lemon slices peered like wide eyes from the pitcher, and there was no crack in the glass. When we were almost to the door, I saw the phone. The receiver dangled by its curled cord. I watched it sway to lose its dropped momentum.

            The next thing I knew the police man was pressing on the flat back of my skull to ensure my head would not hit the ceiling. I stared at the back of the passenger seat when the car began to pull away. Outside the car, police tape draped the scene. I wondered why they would bother with the tape. There were no neighbors for miles. Who would come to muck up the scene?

—–

            The air is anaphylactic. Around my neck is the noose, the rope itching already. I cannot tell if it’s just the material it’s made of, or if it just can’t wait to end me. My eyes have not left the man who is to ruin my wind pipe. The integral secret passes between us. It bounces on the very edges of my mind’s integrity, it fuzzes the lines of morality and it digests my very will as a human being. I let it though.

            Lithely the man executes his job and me along with it, a silver band upon his left hand flashes as he reaches for the lever. Before the trap door falls, the split milliseconds of my life that dance the razors edge, I breathe my last words while my gaze never leaves the green ringed eyes of the executioner’s.

            “You reap what you sew.”