All I could do was stand and
stare. I heard the wailing of the crowd behind me, intermingled with drunken
cheers and shouts of vulgarity. What a horrible place to die.
A woman stood to my right, weeping and crying out, reaching her hands to the heavens in pure desolation. Some others were gathered around, close to the bottom of the tree, prostrated and sobbing. But all I could do was stare straight ahead. Droplets of rainwater slowly moved through the crude grooves of the bark. I stared so hard at the base that I knew it like the back of my hand. The holes plastered with dirt and grime. The rough edges splintering in every direction. The stain of blood. Blood. I felt something warm drop on my cheek. I raised my hand to touch my face, and it came away red. I tried to look up, but I didn't really want to see. I was there, wasn't that enough? Did I have to look too? No. Let me just stare at this expanse of mahogany in front of me. Another drop fell. And I wiped it away, this time without even looking.
The wailing of the crowd grew more distant, and then stopped entirely. I turned around, and no one was there. I looked to my right, to see the woman still kneeling, hands still outstretched, mouth still agape in crying out. I turn back to the wooden post in front of me. Another drop falls on my cheek. I can't move my hand. Another drop falls. Another drop. Another. Just let me be, I think. I'm here. I'm sorry. I can't look, but I'm here. That's enough. It's enough. Another drop falls. The blood runs down my forehead, and stings my eyes. I close them. I can't help it. I don't want to see anymore. I can't even look at the tree in front of me.
A woman stood to my right, weeping and crying out, reaching her hands to the heavens in pure desolation. Some others were gathered around, close to the bottom of the tree, prostrated and sobbing. But all I could do was stare straight ahead. Droplets of rainwater slowly moved through the crude grooves of the bark. I stared so hard at the base that I knew it like the back of my hand. The holes plastered with dirt and grime. The rough edges splintering in every direction. The stain of blood. Blood. I felt something warm drop on my cheek. I raised my hand to touch my face, and it came away red. I tried to look up, but I didn't really want to see. I was there, wasn't that enough? Did I have to look too? No. Let me just stare at this expanse of mahogany in front of me. Another drop fell. And I wiped it away, this time without even looking.
The wailing of the crowd grew more distant, and then stopped entirely. I turned around, and no one was there. I looked to my right, to see the woman still kneeling, hands still outstretched, mouth still agape in crying out. I turn back to the wooden post in front of me. Another drop falls on my cheek. I can't move my hand. Another drop falls. Another drop. Another. Just let me be, I think. I'm here. I'm sorry. I can't look, but I'm here. That's enough. It's enough. Another drop falls. The blood runs down my forehead, and stings my eyes. I close them. I can't help it. I don't want to see anymore. I can't even look at the tree in front of me.
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