Hangman

There was a figure in the darkness. He wore a dark trench coat, a dark hat, dark shores, dark gloves, dark socks, dark pants, and a dark shirt. The figure part of the night stood by a tall birch tree in the middle of a children’s park. He held a black clipboard, a pen, and a slip of paper with seven dashes scrawled upon it.

There was a man wearing a white T-shirt, plaid boxers, and blue slippers on his feet. His face was grizzled, and he had several shaving cuts across his chin, cheeks, and one above his upper lip. There was rope tightly wrapped around both his wrists, above his ankles, a rope supporting his back, and a noose around his neck, that all clung tightly around the  tree.

“Wake up,” the figure said in a dry raspy voice.

The man didn’t wake. The figure, grabbed a pail of water, about the size of one used to make sand castles that had been left by one of the previous residents. He shuffled over to the water fountain, and filled the bucket up to the brim.

He quietly walked back to the hung man and threw the ice-cold water upon his face. His eyes popped open as he screamed, before the figure quickly slapped a black-gloved hand across his mouth, covering it.

“Shhhhhhh.” the figure whispered.

“Wh-who are you?” the man asked the figure.

“I am the Hangman,” the figure said with dreadful confidence.

“What are you going to do to me?” the man asked, shaking.

The Hangman laughed. “We are going to play a little game.” as the hangman pulled out the dark clipboard with the slip of paper attached to it.

“Wh-what are th-the r-r-rules?” he asked.

“If you win, I let you go, if you lose, you die,” the hangman replied.

The man swallowed hard. “Okay.”

The Hangman tore off the man’s shirt and threw it to the ground. He pulled out a switchblade and carved seven dashes across the man’s stomach, lightly, while he cupped a gloved hand over his mouth to prevent his screams to exit and enter the midnight air.

He pulled back the blade when he was done, wiped off the blood, and stuffed it back into one of the pockets of his trench coat.

“What’s your name?” the hangman asked him.

“Aus-s-sti-i-in,” the man tried to say, desperately trying to ignore the pain.

“There we go, . . . ready to play?”

“No! Let me go right now.” Austin yelled, trying to fight the restraints.

The hangman clasped on of his hands onto his face and pulled out his knife, putting it very close to Austin’s scruffy face.

“I said . . . ready to play?” 

Austin nodded, scared, with a tear slipping down his cheek

The hangman showed him the slip of paper, before saying, “for every letter you get right, I’ll write on here and carve it onto your stomach, for every letter you get wrong I cut the ropes until you die.”

Austin decided to go with vowels first.

“Is there an A?” he cautiously asked.

“Two A’s,” the hangman replied as he scrawled it onto the small piece of paper and then carved it onto Austin’s stomach, him fighting back the tears and cries of pain.

“Next letter?” the hangman asked.

Austin quietly thought to himself, trying to imagine what the word could be, but he decided to go with more vowels. “How about an E?”

“Oh . . . I’m so sorry,” the hangman said in his stone-cold voice. “There is no E.” 

He began to draw the hangman’s arm on a slip of paper before cutting off the rope, binding his arm, to allow Austin to dangle from just one of his arms.

“Next choice?” the hangman asked.

“An . . . an I?” Austin asked carefully.

The hangman laughed.

“Very pathetic guess,” he said as he drew one of the hangman’s lower leg, then cut the rope binding one of his legs with the silvery blade.

Austin had finally decided to stop guessing vowels so he guessed another letter which was h. The hangman agreed that there was an h, and carved it into his stomach. Then Austin guessed n, which got him two more letters.

Austin looked at the piece of paper to think of his next choice he desperately tried to guess what the puzzle was before he guessed another letter.

“W?” Austin asked.

The hangman sighed in response before he cut the last rope binding his leg. Then it was only his arm, and the back rope that was hoisting him up.

“Make your next choice,” the hangman said, annoyed. “I’m on a schedule.”

“Uh . . . uh . . . uh--L?” Austin guessed.

“Not even close.” the hangman said as he marked the arm on the sheet of paper and cut the rope binding his arm.

Then, it was just Austin, on the tree, his last remaining rope was the one tied to his back. If he guessed wrong again, then he would be hung by the last remaining rope tied tightly around his neck.

“Last choice. What letter will you guess?” the hangman said brandishing his knife, ready to cut the last rope, with mad glee twinkling like a star in his dark eyes.

“Uh . . . J?” Austin guessed before the hangman laughed and sliced the final rope, leaving Austin to gag and cough as his neck began to break.

His eyes bulged, and his face turned red, as he tried to grip the rope and tear it off, the hangman grinning a shiny white smile as Austin died from being hung.

A snap could be heard throughout the night from the park as the Hangman put away his blade. He gave the corpse the piece of paper, making it clutch and finished carving the word onto his stomach which turned out to be “H A N G M A N.”

He laughed at Austin’s failed attempt to guess his puzzle before he disappeared, disguising himself as the beautiful midnight sky around and above.