Gallows at Dusk

The sun was setting below the Caribbean Sea. The sky was splattered with shades of pink, orange, and pastel purple. The water sparkled from the light and reflected the evening sky. Under different circumstances, the day would have had a lazy, laid back quality about it.

But the circumstances weren't different. As Jonathan Day stood gazing out towads sea, the beauty gave him no joy. Only a feeling of numb dread and nausea occupid his being. There was no happiness in him. A breif smile flikered across his face, though there was no warmth in it. It would all be over soon, and he found relief in the fact that no longer would feelings of remose haunt him.

There was no doubt in his mind that he deserved it. It had to be the wrong thing to do, even if he'd been provoked. Johnathan shuddered. The memory of that despairing scream tortured him all his waking moments.

Breath was hard for Johnathan. His throat felt consricted and closed. It hurt very much, and Johnathan lifted a hand to rub his sore neck. As he stood on the raised platform thatoverlooked the sea all the way to the horizen, again that thought came which filled Johnathan with both horror and peace:

"It's almost over." Johnathan Day stood on the gallows with a noose about his neck, about to hang for murder.

He had killed one of the king's most highly valued naval commanders, Chales Davenport. Mr. Davenport had been visiting Port Royal on orders from London. He'd been sent to make certain the caribbean colonies were running smoothly. He had sent a letter saying things were in ship shape, and then left the governer's house to do some more sight seeing. The charming town of Port Royal immediately found a place in the middle aged man's heart. By the late afternoon he had decided to tarry there for as long as he could get away with it. Unfortunatley, that was not ot be.

Charles Davenport made a fatal mistake in going to inspect the stocks, though he couldn't have known that. A scruffy, poor young man sat beside his brother of 27, who had been put in the stocks for petty theft. The young man had been visting with his unfortunate brother, and did not notice the officer standing behind him.

The officer was ntrigued by this filthy and penniless man, who could not have been more then 19. His compassion for his sibling was such that he would risk being jailed simply to cheer up his brother(in those days, anyone who was found socializing with those who had done wrong were punished.). Mr. Davenport had called himself to attention, and had scared the young man half to death.

Mr. Davenport, in his final hour had asked about the young man for quite some time before the matter of parentage came up. The young man, whose name was Jonathan Day, had been too awed by the finely dressed English man to relize he had been backed into a trap by the long sting of questions. Mr. Davenport had discovered Johnathan was an illegitamate child, and in those days that meant total desetion by the rest of the town.

Mr. Davenport did not notice the pistol that hung from Johnathan's belt, and believed he would be safe in stuffing the young man's poor lineage in his face. As the insults grew more and more insulting and outrageous, a hallow ringing came to Johnathan's ears. Anger welled up in himas the river swells during a heavy rain. Mr. Day could not stand idly by and have this overly fancily dressed man destry his family's honor. Something would have to be done.

At last, mr. Davenport had uttered the last words he would ever say. It was such a vulgar phrase about Johnathan's mother that no mortal of this Earth would be able to resist taking a swing at him. No thought had crossed Johnathan's mind. It was pure impulse. The pistol had been drawn, and than a single shot was fired. Mr. Charles Davenport fell to the ground and layed still.

Things had happened very quikly after that. The sound from the pistol shot was heard by many. Soliders from the king's Royal Navy had been sent to investigate, and Johnathan Day was escorted to the jail shortly after that. In the blackness of his cell he had waited for what seemed an eternity. The next morning Mr. Day was sentenced to death by hanging for being an illegitamate murderer.

At the thought of the word murderer, a shiver ran down Jonathan's spine. It seemed to him such a wicked and ugly thing to name someone. As he gazed once more out to sea, a longing to forget it all overwhelmed him. He wished to forget the consuming guilt, the way Mr. Davenport had screamed as the bullet collieded with his heart, the look of horror and astonishment on his big brother's face. But most of all he wished to forget the silence following the gun shot. The silence was so intense it seemed to be crushing down upon him. It had been aweful.

Once more came the thought,

"It's almost over."

Joanathan wished they would hurry it along. The quicker they dropped the floor, the sooner he could sleep in indisturbed quiet for eternity. Then he would no longer have to stand with a rope tied tight around his neck, waiting to die. He did not really want to die deeo inside, but he knew it was a fitting end.

At last, the sun set. The sky was darkened, and the lazy evening became a dreadful night. The noose was checked to make sure it was secure; it was. The hang man stepped back to where the lever was... and pulled it. Johnathan could feel himself falling, and knew the rope would soon tighten.

As the end came, alast, final, ultimate thought was put into Johnathan's head. "Why did they hate me so because of how I was born? Because I was different? Look how it ended. Why can't we stop hating?" Then the rope became taught and the crack of a breaking neck was heard.