Fragments Gallery
Reflections: At the Fort
Normally I don't come out places like this. Too much… history. Too much that I might see. I'm only out here now because my cousin is in town, and he wanted to come out to this place to see what was here. I guess this old fort is the reason this town is here; so it is an important landmark. But still, I'd rather not have come.
Shockingly when I look around I see nothing out of the ordinary. No ghosts from the past, no visions of what was. I only see tourists and the locals who work here, all of them dressed in the period clothing for the fort. Historical interpreters I believe they are called.
My cousin gives me a knowing look as he turns back to see me writing in my notebook. He doesn't know of my 'gift' however he has known me long enough to know that I sometimes just write in this little notebook. I'm going to have to keep it safe when we return to my place. I don't want him to see what this book contains. I doubt that my family would believe that I see what I see, they'd either think me crazy or that I just have a weird imagination. I get along with them now; I don't want how they view me to change because of what I have written in this notebook.
Why do I write it then if not to share it? Because I feel like I need to keep track of what I see. And I like to write.
My cousin gestures me forwards, he wants to climb the outer walls of the fort. I'll go up with him but unhappily. A greater vantage point is not what I need.
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Now that we're back on the ground my cousin has wandered off, giving me some more time to write of what I saw. I was right to worry about going up there. It seems my anxiety about the higher vantage point was well founded. Today I was unfortunate enough to witness some executions in front of the fort's command center. Three men and one woman were hung at the gallows in the center of the small square. Many people, probably the entire population of the fort, came out to see the hanging. It was a grand spectacle to them. Normally these events don't bother me, not that that means that I ever want to see them. After all it's just a vision from the past right? This one did bother me. One of the men had screamed out for mercy, at least that’s what my imagination told me he said, claiming that he was innocent. Another had sobbed openly into his beard. The other two had remained silent and unmoving; apparently they had already accepted their fate.
The people cheered when that simple wooden lever was thrown and those four souls made their final drop. Although I couldn't hear their screams their gaping jaws were enough for me to imagine how they must have sounded. It sent a chill down my spine. Yet the bystanders had cheered. To them that horrifying event was little more than entertainment.
I guess from the views of the day this form of execution was how they kept the worst criminals off the streets. So to the people there the execution meant that they and their families would be safer.
My cousin returns; I'm going to have to stop in a moment so that we may continue our tour. I can only hope that the execution will be the worst I see here today.
Sometimes I'm grateful for my gift and the greater perspective it gives me. Other times… not so much. I wish that sometimes I could miss out on playing witness to some of the grimmer parts of our history.