The Hang Man

It was early in the morning and any other day, the city would be bustling with varying activity but today was different. Everything seemed to have stopped and a large crowd had gathered in front of the grand contraption standing in the middle of the city. Everyone was fussing about, preoccupied with their own conversations though all were of the one topic. It had been the very subject that they have talked about for months and one person would say his same point over and over but noone seemed to care for this fact, they only cared of the contraption and what were to happen in the next few minutes.

The women were discouraged to come out that day, some had stayed in to 'keep watch of the children' while others made their way to the front of the crowd, their pashminas covering their eyes. "Oh I can't look" I heard one of the women say as the man next to her held her shoulders but her eyes glanced back to the contraption though her head turned away. Then all conversation seized to exist as a large figure climbed on the contraption. He checked the mechanical aspects as the crowd watched in silence, their mouths agape wondering if it had finally begun.

When the sun rose above the city hall and its rays lit the quad, other figures appeared from the shadows. This time three men; one was limp as the dead, his face was pale as though seconds away from regurgitating every meal he's had all his life. His steps were dragged and heavy as the crowd heard the loud thumping of his feet on the wooden panels. By this time the children had escaped their mothers and managed to squirm through the legs of the crowd, their mothers were behind them, seemingly looking for their beloved though their gazes was fixes at the pale man. Some who were close enough could see him gulp right before the first large figure placed a black bag over the former's head. Both their hands were trembling with hesitation and helplessness. He was now led to the tower of the contraption, the heave noose which hung above was lowered to his thin neck. His chest moved with agitation as he struggled to breathe from the combination of the stuffy sack over his head and the psychological weight of the thick rope around his neck. "Oh Lord, mercy!" he muffled through the fabric along with other inaudible noises.

A baby was crying in the distance her mother and father consoled her without taking their eyes off the main attraction. Nobody else in the crowd paid attention to the baby either. I remember a story a relative of mine had told abotu his first execution, he was first and foremost shocked at the sight of the sturdy bodied criminal crying for his life during the last minutes. There stood a man who had never shed a tear in his life crying just like the infant from the back row and seconds after the last sound was heard from his mouth, he was no more.

The priest and judge stepped away from the center after saying things that the crowd could care less about. Then it was time. The whole crowd inhaled in unison as the trap doors opened. It was a simple reaction, a loud gasp of air, the sound of a trap door opening, a convict falling to certain death. Then all was still again. Tension was in the air. Then we saw a kick from the convict. Then another and then another. He was still alive. The black bag which was not tied on had fallen off his head and you could see his face as soon as his body turned toward the crowd. The children and women shunned away from the bloodshot eyes. A man in the very front row shouted, "What is going on!?". The crowd was puzzled and looked at the convict once more, he opens his mouth and in a choking manner some in the very front row could make out the words: "Just....hangin'.... how about you?"

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I saw an episode of Law & Order last night with mum about this teenager who committed a heinous murder and was sentenced death. It made me glad that we don't have a jury system because I definitely could not make a decision like that and live with it for the remainder of my life! Which reminds me, I still have not seen 12 Angry Men.