The Noose
There is No More
The sun peered out of the horizon; its rays kissing the grass and poking through the window.
It was morning and she knew it. It felt like any other morning, a morning where she would get up and get dressed in her finely pressed clothes, a morning where she would go and carry out her duties. But in the back of her mind, she knew it was not any other morning. She knew that today was her last morning, her last chance to wake up.
This morning, she was scheduled to die.
The sun spilled into the musty cell, its rays illuminating the once darken room. She lay on the bed, but the sandman did not visit her last night. Instead, she just stared in the dark, listening to the crickets chirp their mournful song as she waited for the morning. The sun was finally here, unknowing that his presence was not welcomed. Sitting up from the hard bed in which she had spent her last night, she began to think. Think about what was happening. She looked around, at the cold cement walls and the tiny window, at the dust particles dancing in the sun’s rays.
A navy suit hung in the corner and it seemed to watch her. Moving a bit to her right, she began studying the suit from its well tailored stitches to the tiny silver button that glistened in the sun. It was ironic that on her last day, she would notice little things. Things that added much to the greatness of life and yet were overlooked; it made her chuckle. A meticulous spider made its home in a corner, wispy thread by wispy thread. Birds were singing their joyful song, unaware of the fate of the woman who heard them.
Perhaps they are saying good bye…she thought to herself. She chuckled again, aware of the fact that tomorrow the birds will also sing, the spider will also thread but she would not be around to see or hear them. There was no tomorrow for her, for tomorrow she would be in a hole outside in the prison graveyard. A chill ran up her spine that made the tiny hairs along her neck stand up straight, a chill that made her insides freeze. She could not fathom the thought of no tomorrow, for there always was a tomorrow. But now, there was no tomorrow, there will never be a tomorrow; it was just today.
Getting up, she went towards the suit and marveled at its fine workmanship. Did the tailor ever think, as he slid the threads through his fingers, that a woman would wear this to her death? Sliding off her prison clothes, feeling the scratchy material rub against her smooth skin, she chuckled once more even though her heart was in a knot. At the tiny sink that was in the cell, she rinsed herself with the cold water and the cheap soap that saw many prisoners. She wanted to die clean, both of dirt and of sin.
She grabbed the white blouse and slid it on carefully. The suit watched her every move as she buttoned the blouse one by one. Finally, she grabbed for the suit, carefully placing it on her body. There were no wrinkles, not even a crease, it was perfection. As a young girl, her father taught her, that no matter what; a person had to be well dressed. He was a lowly dairy farmer, one who slept with the cows at times. Yet every Sunday, he would dress to the nines.
Oh papa, she thought to herself, what would you think of me now? His warnings had fallen on deaf ears. His cries to her, warning her that it was not smart to get involved with “those” people, he had told her and begged to her that nothing good would come from it. But she was alone; she was poor, tired of milking cows and trudging through manure. She knew there was more to life and it was certainly not on a dairy farm and so she joined them. When her father found out, he turned his head in shame, never wanting to see her again.
Now, she was going to die, thanks to “those” people. The things she did, the things that labeled her a monster. She was evil, she was wicked screamed the headlines. She deserved to die. Her father must have known, but perhaps he thought it was better this way; his daughter slipping in the darkness, never to be seen again. Perhaps he wanted to distance himself from a monster…
Another chuckle; it was her way to ward off the tears. A smile crept upon her as she studied herself in the mirror. The suit now hugged her body as she buttoned the final buttons. Her curls of sunshine cascaded onto her shoulders and her blue eyes twinkled in the sun. And still, no matter how elegant she looked, the fear flicked in her eyes. She tried to look strong and at first glance, she did. But inside, her soul screamed for freedom, to get away. It screamed for a tomorrow.
A deathly clank broke her train of thought. Her eyes quickly darted towards the steel door and met the guard’s. There was silence between the two; he knew he was staring into the eyes of a dead woman. She knew it was time. Snapping out of his hypnosis, he ordered the woman to raise her arms. Swiftly and efficiently, he pinioned her arms behind her back. This was the last time she would see her hands.
With his hand around her arm, the guard slowly brought her out of the cell she had spent the night in, the cell where she waited for death. They walked side by side down the corridor, not once looking at each other, their shoes drumming a beat with every step. There were other cells and in those cells, there were others, others waiting for their deaths. She could hear a couple of them shuffle their feet and heard a moan from behind one of the doors. Yet, she was the first, she was the youngest, she was the one to set the example. But at the end of the day, all of them would be dead.
Finally, the gallows were in sight. The noose dangled and it seemed as if it was looking at her with its evil eye. She could not take her eyes off of it. It was the perfect shape, so sinister and wicked, all ready to be used. The hangman was there, waiting for her by the steps of the gallows. With a deep breath, one leg went up on the step and then the other and it kept going until she reached the top. The steps creaked and moaned; they knew too well what was going to happen. There was no more control for her; she could not say no. This was her fate, this was the end.
She took a quick glance at the faces of the guards who were all waiting for her and then, she walked towards the perfectly marked X. With her head held high, she looked out in front of her, at the emptiness of room. A final sniff of the musty air, to remember it; remember her final place. Perhaps there was life after death and perhaps she could look back.
The guard bounded her legs, perhaps so they would not flail when she fell. His tiny cold hands wrapped around her calf as he buckled the bound and secured it tight. He too knew she was going to die and nervous he was, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. But he still had his freedom. Her freedom was gone, she was set to die and there was no way to run. A freeze ran through her body as she tried to remain strong.
This was when her final words were asked. Yet the fear choked her, what could she say? Most prisoners give a long speech about their efforts and their lives or towards someone they loved. She had nothing, she could not think of grandiose words and powerful anecdotes. The fear constrained her, the shame gagged her. Who would want to hear the words of such a monster? Finally, the only word that came to mind escaped her lips…
Quickly…
The hangman, a large man with an olive green suit and a double chin, approached her. He took a look at her. To her, it felt as if their stare lasted a lifetime. At last, with a swift move of his wrist, he took out the hood, to be placed over her head. He was the last person she saw, the plump hangman with the worn out olive suit. Her executioner…
Darkness enveloped her as she felt the noose being placed around her delicate neck. It was getting stuffy under the hood, harder to breath. Her legs were like rubber and she didn’t know if she was standing or falling. The clock began to ring in the far distance, announcing that it was seven in the morning. Ring by ring, the sound haunted her…
One…the clang of the unlocking lever echoed through the gallows. Two…the creaky pull of the lever as it opened the trapdoor under her feet. The floor was gone and for a moment, she searched for it. A pain ran through her body and there was a simple roar in her ears. Her body tried to hold her up, even her hands tried to desperately grasp something as she fell, fell crashing down to her death. There wasn’t even time for a gasp as the noose snapped her tiny neck in half.
There was no third ring for her, there was only silence…
It was morning and she knew it. It felt like any other morning, a morning where she would get up and get dressed in her finely pressed clothes, a morning where she would go and carry out her duties. But in the back of her mind, she knew it was not any other morning. She knew that today was her last morning, her last chance to wake up.
This morning, she was scheduled to die.
The sun spilled into the musty cell, its rays illuminating the once darken room. She lay on the bed, but the sandman did not visit her last night. Instead, she just stared in the dark, listening to the crickets chirp their mournful song as she waited for the morning. The sun was finally here, unknowing that his presence was not welcomed. Sitting up from the hard bed in which she had spent her last night, she began to think. Think about what was happening. She looked around, at the cold cement walls and the tiny window, at the dust particles dancing in the sun’s rays.
A navy suit hung in the corner and it seemed to watch her. Moving a bit to her right, she began studying the suit from its well tailored stitches to the tiny silver button that glistened in the sun. It was ironic that on her last day, she would notice little things. Things that added much to the greatness of life and yet were overlooked; it made her chuckle. A meticulous spider made its home in a corner, wispy thread by wispy thread. Birds were singing their joyful song, unaware of the fate of the woman who heard them.
Perhaps they are saying good bye…she thought to herself. She chuckled again, aware of the fact that tomorrow the birds will also sing, the spider will also thread but she would not be around to see or hear them. There was no tomorrow for her, for tomorrow she would be in a hole outside in the prison graveyard. A chill ran up her spine that made the tiny hairs along her neck stand up straight, a chill that made her insides freeze. She could not fathom the thought of no tomorrow, for there always was a tomorrow. But now, there was no tomorrow, there will never be a tomorrow; it was just today.
Getting up, she went towards the suit and marveled at its fine workmanship. Did the tailor ever think, as he slid the threads through his fingers, that a woman would wear this to her death? Sliding off her prison clothes, feeling the scratchy material rub against her smooth skin, she chuckled once more even though her heart was in a knot. At the tiny sink that was in the cell, she rinsed herself with the cold water and the cheap soap that saw many prisoners. She wanted to die clean, both of dirt and of sin.
She grabbed the white blouse and slid it on carefully. The suit watched her every move as she buttoned the blouse one by one. Finally, she grabbed for the suit, carefully placing it on her body. There were no wrinkles, not even a crease, it was perfection. As a young girl, her father taught her, that no matter what; a person had to be well dressed. He was a lowly dairy farmer, one who slept with the cows at times. Yet every Sunday, he would dress to the nines.
Oh papa, she thought to herself, what would you think of me now? His warnings had fallen on deaf ears. His cries to her, warning her that it was not smart to get involved with “those” people, he had told her and begged to her that nothing good would come from it. But she was alone; she was poor, tired of milking cows and trudging through manure. She knew there was more to life and it was certainly not on a dairy farm and so she joined them. When her father found out, he turned his head in shame, never wanting to see her again.
Now, she was going to die, thanks to “those” people. The things she did, the things that labeled her a monster. She was evil, she was wicked screamed the headlines. She deserved to die. Her father must have known, but perhaps he thought it was better this way; his daughter slipping in the darkness, never to be seen again. Perhaps he wanted to distance himself from a monster…
Another chuckle; it was her way to ward off the tears. A smile crept upon her as she studied herself in the mirror. The suit now hugged her body as she buttoned the final buttons. Her curls of sunshine cascaded onto her shoulders and her blue eyes twinkled in the sun. And still, no matter how elegant she looked, the fear flicked in her eyes. She tried to look strong and at first glance, she did. But inside, her soul screamed for freedom, to get away. It screamed for a tomorrow.
A deathly clank broke her train of thought. Her eyes quickly darted towards the steel door and met the guard’s. There was silence between the two; he knew he was staring into the eyes of a dead woman. She knew it was time. Snapping out of his hypnosis, he ordered the woman to raise her arms. Swiftly and efficiently, he pinioned her arms behind her back. This was the last time she would see her hands.
With his hand around her arm, the guard slowly brought her out of the cell she had spent the night in, the cell where she waited for death. They walked side by side down the corridor, not once looking at each other, their shoes drumming a beat with every step. There were other cells and in those cells, there were others, others waiting for their deaths. She could hear a couple of them shuffle their feet and heard a moan from behind one of the doors. Yet, she was the first, she was the youngest, she was the one to set the example. But at the end of the day, all of them would be dead.
Finally, the gallows were in sight. The noose dangled and it seemed as if it was looking at her with its evil eye. She could not take her eyes off of it. It was the perfect shape, so sinister and wicked, all ready to be used. The hangman was there, waiting for her by the steps of the gallows. With a deep breath, one leg went up on the step and then the other and it kept going until she reached the top. The steps creaked and moaned; they knew too well what was going to happen. There was no more control for her; she could not say no. This was her fate, this was the end.
She took a quick glance at the faces of the guards who were all waiting for her and then, she walked towards the perfectly marked X. With her head held high, she looked out in front of her, at the emptiness of room. A final sniff of the musty air, to remember it; remember her final place. Perhaps there was life after death and perhaps she could look back.
The guard bounded her legs, perhaps so they would not flail when she fell. His tiny cold hands wrapped around her calf as he buckled the bound and secured it tight. He too knew she was going to die and nervous he was, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. But he still had his freedom. Her freedom was gone, she was set to die and there was no way to run. A freeze ran through her body as she tried to remain strong.
This was when her final words were asked. Yet the fear choked her, what could she say? Most prisoners give a long speech about their efforts and their lives or towards someone they loved. She had nothing, she could not think of grandiose words and powerful anecdotes. The fear constrained her, the shame gagged her. Who would want to hear the words of such a monster? Finally, the only word that came to mind escaped her lips…
Quickly…
The hangman, a large man with an olive green suit and a double chin, approached her. He took a look at her. To her, it felt as if their stare lasted a lifetime. At last, with a swift move of his wrist, he took out the hood, to be placed over her head. He was the last person she saw, the plump hangman with the worn out olive suit. Her executioner…
Darkness enveloped her as she felt the noose being placed around her delicate neck. It was getting stuffy under the hood, harder to breath. Her legs were like rubber and she didn’t know if she was standing or falling. The clock began to ring in the far distance, announcing that it was seven in the morning. Ring by ring, the sound haunted her…
One…the clang of the unlocking lever echoed through the gallows. Two…the creaky pull of the lever as it opened the trapdoor under her feet. The floor was gone and for a moment, she searched for it. A pain ran through her body and there was a simple roar in her ears. Her body tried to hold her up, even her hands tried to desperately grasp something as she fell, fell crashing down to her death. There wasn’t even time for a gasp as the noose snapped her tiny neck in half.
There was no third ring for her, there was only silence…