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AS A YOUNG CHILD, I saw something that no child should ever see.
An apparition.
A vision.
The past of some unfortunate soul.
I never knew exactly what it was that I saw that day.
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I WALKED OUT IN THE field behind my grandfather’s aging homestead, cutting through the long weedy grass. With no destination in my mind, I ran, jumped and skipped merrily avoiding the make-believe monsters, ghouls and dragons of my imagination that were lying in wait for me, hidden within the depths of the grass.
The oak tree was in sight, I turned left and made a dash for it. This was to be my tower. Perhaps there was a maiden waiting to be rescued from an evil queen. I’d climb the thick limbs all the way to the top and rescue my fair lady. What I would do with her afterwards was beyond me. The fun was in the rescuing and vanquishing the foes.
The tree was getting closer.
But something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t explain it exactly, but goosebumps rose on my arms, and the air fairly crackled with an unknown energy.
I should have turned around and went back to the sanctuary of my grandfather’s home, but something propelled me forward, almost a physical push from an unseen hand.
As I drew closer, I could see something hovering beneath the largest limb. Squinting to make out the shape, I edged closer. My curiosity was insatiable, and there was no way I was turning back now. Not until I had moved close enough to see what it was. Danger was not something that I really understood yet. Adults talked about it, I could sense it now like I never had before, but it was still an undefined concept in my mind.
With a deep steadying breath, and a shake of my head, I pushed forward until at last I stood beneath the tree.
Not a single sound came out of my mouth, although I can tell you without the slightest bit of embarrassment, that I opened my mouth to scream like a little girl, but no sound came forth. The air surrounding me had been sucked from the atmosphere. I was in a bubble of horror. My vision narrowed to the man in front of me.
The man hanging from the tree.
I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was dead.
And I knew that he wasn’t real.
A ghost or something else. Something that all parents tell their children aren’t real.
But I had witnessed the ‘not real’ thing with my own eyes.
Paralysed with a depth of previously unknown terror, the hanging man started swinging, back and forth in the air. The rope stretched and taut beneath his weight, began to make a creaking sound.
Legs shaking, I managed to stumble backwards and tripped, falling flat on my behind. It was enough to shake me out of the trance that I was caught in. I drew myself up and ran without looking back. The creaking of the rope followed me all the way home.
I never told anyone what I had seen that day. And after many years, it began to become a distant memory, something that I had buried and forgotten about.
If only I hadn’t though...
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FORTY YEARS LATER
As I stand here with the noose around my neck, balancing myself, until the precise moment that I am ready to jump. I close my eyes, and with vivid clarity remember that day forty years ago in this very spot. It all came back to me with startling clarity.
I was the hanging man.
I had witnessed my demise forty years before it happened.
Was I destined to die this way?
Was it a warning?
I’ll never really know.
And with that final thought, I jumped.
