THE LAST WALK
by Sarah Scharnweber
Joseph walked toward the small wooden stage with his head down. The small entourage of black-clad men followed behind him as he reached the steps. He ascended without a word of prompting.
The voices of onlookers, mostly ambient, were occasionally broken by a strong voice whose words burned at Joseph, though he attempted to ignore them. Armed guards also dressed in black, restricted onlookers from Joseph. He continued watching the ground as he reached the platform.
He lifted his head to the audience, cleared his throat and spoke,
"Excuse me?"
His voice was nervous and shaky, it didn't break the noise, but everyone seemed to quiet when his mouth began
moving. He let out a loud, long sigh and started again,
"For the first time in my life, I'm nervous."
Loud angry voices burst out from the mob, but Joseph continued.
"I think I owe you all an explanation. Unfortunately, I don't have one."
A child screamed in the distance, but the sun obscured Joseph's view, making the child invisible from where he stood.
He remained calm as he looked at the people staring up at him, some of their faces remained angry, while others merely anticipated.
"I have a six year old daughter."
A man dressed in black with a hood over his head took Joseph's hands and pulled them behind his back. Joseph didn't fight; he was calm, accepting of his fate.
"Her name is Samantha."
The man pulled a rope tight around his wrists, bending his arms back in a way that was uncomfortable and ached in his shoulders.
"She is sweet and beautiful and perfect. She is an exact replica of Louise, my wife and her mother."
His words came out as a long, deep groan. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.
T he onlookers seemed to break off and talk amongst themselves, reminding Joseph of a swarm of bees. At first, the noise was light, conversational; but then, the negativity broke through.
"Isn't it time yet?"
A voice shouted above the others.
Another man dressed all in black walked up to Joseph and nodded. He pressed his open hand against Joseph's chest and pushed him back, stopping him under the long, wooden crossbeam.
"I love you both."
His lips moved, but no sound reached the crowd. They had begun cheering and yelling, signifying their lack of interest in what he had to say.
The first man adjusted some things on the platform behind Joseph. As he searched the crowd, his head darted back and forth, hoping to catch a glimpse of Louise and Samantha for the last time.
The first man raised a gloved hand above his head.
The crowd went silent.
The man behind Joseph nodded and turned toward the lever at the back of the stage. He yanked it down. A loud thump echoed. Then there was a combined crack and another thump.
Joseph's body hung below the stage. His legs twitched and hopped for a few seconds before becoming still.
The world was silent for just a moment before the crowd broke out in cheers and whistles. Then, as quickly as they had accumulated, they began splitting up, departing in separate directions.
A few people walked by Joseph's limp body and spit on it.
"Murderer."
One muttered as she took a handful of rocks and threw them at his still hanging body.
A man approached the body, took Joseph's shirt in his hands and pulled him against his body. For a moment, it was unclear what he was doing, but he began whispering to Joseph. He let go of Joseph's shirt before pulling back and slapping him across the face. Joseph's body swung just enough to make the rope creak under his weight.
A woman approached - it was his wife, Louise and in her arms, she carried their daughter, Samantha -- Louise approached him with her head low. She was a small woman with short, straightened hair. Samantha's hair was red as well, long and curly. Her hair hung over her shoulders in disorganized clumps.
Louise reached a hand out and caressed Joseph's cheek.
"Joseph."
She whispered as tears poured from her eyes.
She turned away, unable to look at her dead husband any longer. She drew near to him, allowing Samantha to touch him one last time.
She kissed him on the cheek and slid a single red rose in his pocket.
"I love you, Daddy," she whispered before kissing his cheek one last time.
A single tear fell and streaked down her flushed cheek as Louise pulled her away.
Samantha watched over Louise's shoulder as they cut the noose. He collapsed to the ground, bringing dust up around him.
Samantha looked away for a moment and when she returned her gaze, her father's body was gone. The rose was all that was left of Joseph.
Sarah Scharnweber is a 27 year old social worker in a nursing home for people with severe mental illnesses. She lives in Rockford, Illinois with her roommate and 2 cats. She began writing in high school, but fell in love with the idea of writing for a living while in college and planning to go to law school. Though she no longer is interested in practicing law, she continues to work on her dream of becoming a full time writer in the future.
