Fear

• Jos Alcorn, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2016

Footsteps. The noise echoed throughout the courtyard, the sound of a dozen men trudging across gravel. The sound of the men’s passing was the only disturbance in the forbidding place. The men walked in step, a funeral march of the condemned, towards the large structure beyond the gate.
Halt. As one, they stopped beyond the fence, the wall that encircled the gigantic slab of the building whence they came from. Eight of them stepped to either side of the construction; four were left in front, staring up at the place which would become their death.
Silence. There was no sound, not even the the rustle of a bird’s wing or a breath of wind or the tap of a small object hitting the ground. Four men in chains, eight with rifles, and not the slightest noise. It was as if the the world had been muted or was holding its breath, as though the air had been robbed of the ability to carry vibrations.
Fear. It was almost tangible, almost able to be felt through the atmosphere. Four men, scared to death, of death. Afraid of the slow walk up the steps which was now presenting itself to them.
One. The first man in the group stepped forward. Trembling visibly, he mounted the the steps and stood still as the rope was placed around his neck. One could almost smell the fear coming off of him, a thick mist of terror that was evidence of his anxiety.
Two. The second man was calmer. The only movement aside from his breath crystallising in the air was a slight twitch in his left little finger. He was by far the the smallest man, a tiny bantam rooster with a head as polished as a marble, and yet he was the calmest of the four.
Three. The third man almost ran forward, so nervous was he at the prospect of his fate. Tripping on the steps, he almost saved the noose the the trouble and fell on his own neck. As he was being fitted for a stretch, it was clear that he was restraining himself from crying out.
Four. The last man was the largest, a giant with a long beard. He strode forward grimly, evidently not about to be reduced to begging for his life. As the noose was placed around his neck, he did not make a move or a sound, clearly accepting his fate.
As one, at the snap of the lever, four trapdoors opened, four bodies dropping and then snapping quickly to a halt. There was no sound after that, as though the building, the soldiers, and the gallows were all mourning the loss of the men that they had condemned to death.