(A/N: My school just performed this musical and I fell in love with it! So I decided to go home and write a fan fic for it! R&R! I own nothing!!)
The rope swung in front of the man. This man, who stood on the stool and waited for the rope to be placed around his neck, was not a guilty man. He had done nothing wrong. A little girl was raped and killed, but it was most certainly not his doing. The entire town accused him of this murder, and many other horrible crimes, none of which he ever committed. He was innocent! But at this point, innocence mattered not to these people. They were set on killing him, on lynching him. They had all turned against him and now there was no going back.
The man took a deep breath as the coarse rope was placed around his neck. He gulped and looked around him. The city was concealed in night's black coat, but he could still make out outlines of houses, the road, and trees. He had never referred to this place as home, but now it felt like home more than ever. It felt like he was far away from it, and he was homesick, longing to return home to his wife. He wished he could hold her in his arms one last time and whisper it was going to be alright. She would be fine once he was gone, wouldn't she? He glanced down at one of the men, and asked if he could have his wedding ring returned to his darling wife.
This city had turned on him, and they were never going to change their minds. He was different, a Jew, and now a man who had raped innocent young girls. Before, he was nothing but a college graduate and a man from the North. But now he was so much more, so much worse. He was a man from the North, with a college education, who had still gone mad and raped and killed an innocent child whose name he could not even recall. This child was dead, but it was not his doing. He had not touched her, only paid her the money he owed her.
"Mary Phagan, this is for you!" one of the masked men screamed, then he kicked the stool and this innocent man died. His neck broke and he was choked to death. The next thing the masked men knew, this monster was dead.
The city celebrated the next day, gathering around the corpse of the murderous monster. They cheered, drank and sang. They had justice! They were safe and free of this man who had nearly destroyed their city.
Yet, one woman did not join in on the celebration. She sat in her house, alone. Her husband was dead. He was lynched last night, when they had been so close to freeing him of all these lies. He was gone, leaving her all alone to face the rumors and lies herself.
The woman had pale blonde hair, and sat by a large window, holding a picture and sobbing. He was gone and he would never come back. She felt her heart break and shatter into little pieces. He had done nothing, yet he had been condemned for what he had not done. The people in this small Southern city could not accept people who were different. They may have gotten the impression that he had been stuck up, thinking he was too good to talk to them. But what he had really been was afraid. He was a man who was afraid of change, and his wife knew that. In her hand was his picture, and in the other were a hankie and the wedding ring that had been returned to her at the break of dawn.
Everything seemed to be going so well. This man and his wife had finally fallen in love, and they all believed he was going to get off. The governor had assured his wife that he would do his best. And he had, she knew it. Yet, no matter how well he had done, her husband was dead. There was no bringing him back.
As the city cheered and celebrated, there was one among the crowd who did not feel so joyous. The little girl who had been murdered, Mary Phagan's mother, stood in the crowd and just watched the people cheer. Her daughter's murder had been avenged; the murderer was dead, wasn't he? She couldn't help but feel in the pit of her stomach that Mr. Frank, the man whose dead body now hung in the tree for all to see, was not the murderer of her daughter.
She glanced around and found a pair of eyes staring at her. Jim Conley's dark brown eyes met hers. She stared, taken aback, shocked at the fact he had found her eyes in the crowd. She saw a wicked smirk form on his lips, and then he was gone. She felt her gut tell her that he was the real murderer. She just prayed to God above that he was caught.
So the city of Atlanta took joy and pride in the fact Leo Frank had been hung. He was gone, the devil's son had gotten what he deserved. They all knew, in the backs of their minds, that he was not guilty. No one really knew who the murderer really was. All that mattered right now was celebrating the fact that the man was now dead. They had protected the old red hills of home. Or so they thought…little did they know the murderer was still running lose among them. But that didn't matter now; all that mattered was that the Devil himself had finally left Atlanta. He was no longer there to threaten the old red hills of Georgia.
(A/N: sorry about changing POVs every so often. But what did you think!! R&R!! pretty please!!)