Last Moments

“Every man is entitled to the unalienable rights of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” – Thomas Jefferson

June 10, 1893 6:00 am.

Harold looked pale in the rays of sun that cast through the cold wet bars of his jail cell. At ten o’clock he would be led outside to the gallows. He had seen it many times before; men led to their ends on the inside of a barbed wire fence.

The aching Harold painfully rose up and looked into the cracked mirror in his cell. His brown hair stood on its ends in several places on his head. He twisted the rusty knob to release the cold, coppery brown water from the nearly rusted faucet. He moved his shaking hand into it and combed his hair back. If he was going to pass from this world, he would at least go with dignity and honor.

As he grated the wooden comb through his hair, he remembered standing in front of his mirror back home with his dress clothes on trying quickly to get ready to go to the town ball his father was hosting where he first met her. His bride to be in two years time – they would be married. But, for now he snapped back into the present, his beautiful, young, ruby haired wife was now twenty years deceased and his body no longer felt as young as it once had.

Harold sat back down on his cot and looked down onto the brick floor which was now lit by the warm sunshine. Movement from outside his cage cast playful shadows on the floor and his heart felt a bit warmer for a second or two. Reminiscing images fluttered through his mind as he jumped out of an apple tree to catch his childhood golden retriever, Bernie. Then another more depressing image came to mind as his older, rosy faced brother came into the picture to wrestle with the two.

He loved his brother more than anyone else in his childhood years. They had done everything together. His eighteen year old brother taught him how to swim and hunt. They were so close that when his brother got married, Harold was the best man.

The hopeless man wiped a tear from his eye as he opened up the golden pocket watch his father had given him when he was little. It read 7:53 am. He closed his eyes and bowed his head as he heard the doctor say those words in a far away place.

“7:53.I’m sorry Harry, I really am… there’s nothing we can do for her now… she’s gone son.”

“…And the baby? ... Doctor what about the baby?”

All the doctor could do was bow and shake his head. The words seemed so distant, so far away. To lose his wife and unborn child in one day was too much for him… he walked up to her and held her deathly cold head in his arms. Her long red hair draped over his arm as he gave her one final kiss goodbye.

Harold was startled again by the sound of gun fire outside. The prison guards were practicing on wooden targets, blasting away each painted symbol in their centers. As the guns rattled again, he remembered his brother’s last words to him in the form of a letter.

“If you fear your end, there ain’t nothin to live for. Remember that Harry and you can do anything.” His brother’s voice said this in his head. The cavalry played the funeral dirge as his brother was laid to rest. He had been killed while raiding the rebel lines in the Battle of Gettysburg. He had been brought back for a hero’s burial, one of few who could be brought back.

Barely able to open his eyes, Harold dosed off, closed his eyes, and gently rested his head against the brick wall. When he fell asleep, a dream came upon him. He was walking down the lamp lighted street, the cold damp air made him focus on getting back home. It was then he heard a shout. Startled, Harold turned around to see a man lunge out with a knife and attack a young couple. When the man saw him watching, he vanished into the darkness of the alleys. Harold ran up to the wounded couple. He tried to help the woman who was still showing signs of life, but all he succeeded in doing was getting his hands covered in blood. The young woman laid there on the cold street watching him as her eyes darkened and glazed over. Suddenly he felt a cold hand clutch his shoulder and force him around. It was two months later when he was convicted of murder and sentenced to death.

Harold woke up to the sound of two prison guards clanging on his cell door. It was 10:00 and the guards were ready to take him away. The old man sat up and let the guards slap the steel handcuffs on his wrists and lead him outside. As they opened up the iron door, sunlight poured in almost blinding him.

He was nervous. What if he tripped and fell or didn’t get the vows right. Then the music started to play and his bride walked down the aisle slowly, every now and again looking up to make eye contact with him. The words “I do” danced through his head…But this wasn’t his wedding, and his wife wouldn’t be coming to him.

The guards took him to the old wooden platform and fit the noose around his head. As the priest gave his last rites to him, the crowd of people sitting in front of him began to blur and a distant image appeared. In the back of the crowd he could see his father rocking back and forth in his old rocking chair petting a strikingly younger Bernie than Harold remembered.

The drum roll began and a rosy faced, blond haired soldier from the back smiled and gave Harold a salute. As he stared deeper into the soldier’s eyes, he was astonished to see it was his brother’s face staring back at him. But then, a dark figure appeared distracting his concentration on his brother clad in blue. It was the black figure of the murderer. He stood up laughing at him, mocking him to the point where he clenched his fists in anger.

Harold felt a tension formulate around his neck. The trap door had been sprung and the noose tightened its death hold on his neck. His anger subsided as a very bright and warm figure approached him. She was wearing the white satin dress he had bought her for her birthday. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered her. She walked towards him and with each step the noose lessened its hold on him. She was illuminated with a spotlight that came from nowhere as she smiled at him. She slowly pulled the noose off Harold’s neck and whispered something into his ear. Harold closed his eyes to kiss her soft lips and all went black.

What happened next no one can tell, for no one knows what happens when you part from this earth. Harold’s body was buried in the prison graveyard, but was exhumed and buried next to his wife on the day Roderick Carlstein was convicted of two different murders. He had confessed to an open jury to the murders of a young man and woman in an alley way and took pride in telling the jury how he had framed it on a man who happened to be walking by. Roderick’s end was not so comforting. No old friends came to see him, no warming images ever came. But some say that on the day Roderick hung from the gallows a couple clad in white, that no one recognized, came to watch but disappeared before anyone could notice.