An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge
by Shivansh 2 months ago in Advocacy
A man stood upon a railroad bridge
A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down
into the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands were behind his
back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It
was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to
the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the sleepers
supporting the metals of the railway supplied a footing for him and his
executioners--two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a
sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short
remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform
of his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge
stood with his rifle in the position known as "support," that is to say,
vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm
thrown straight across the chest--a formal and unnatural position,
enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty
of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge;
they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.
Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ran straight
away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lost to view.
Doubtless there was an outpost farther along. The other bank of the
stream was open ground--a gentle acclivity topped with a stockade of
vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a single embrasure through
which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon commanding the bridge.
Midway of the slope between the bridge and fort were the spectators--a
single company of infantry in line, at "parade rest," the butts of the rifles
on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward against the right
shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock. A lieutenant stood at the
right of the line, the point of his sword upon the ground, his left hand
resting upon his right. Excepting the group of four at the center of the
bridge, not a man moved. The company faced the bridge, staring stonily,
motionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might have
been statues to adorn the bridge. The captain stood with folded arms,
silent, observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign. Death
is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with
formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. In
the code of military etiquette silence and fixity are forms of deference.
The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirtyfive years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit,
which was that of a planter. His features were good--a straight nose, firm
mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed
straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his well-fitting frock
coat. He wore a mustache and pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes
were large and dark gray, and had a kindly expression which one would
hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the hemp. Evidently this
was no vulgar assassin. The liberal military code makes provision for
hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded.
The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers stepped aside
and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. The
sergeant turned to the captain, saluted and placed himself immediately
behind that officer, who in turn moved apart one pace. These movements
left the condemned man and the sergeant standing on the two ends of
the same plank, which spanned three of the cross-ties of the bridge. The
end upon which the civilian stood almost, but not quite, reached a fourth.
This plank had been held in place by the weight of the captain; it was now
held by that of the sergeant. At a signal from the former the latter would
step aside, the plank would tilt and the condemned man go down
between two ties. The arrangement commended itself to his judgment as
simple and effective. His face had not been covered nor his eyes
bandaged. He looked a moment at his "unsteadfast footing," then let his
gaze wander to the swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath his
feet. A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes
followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move, What a
sluggish stream!
He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and
children. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the brooding mists
under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers,
the piece of drift--all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of
a new disturbance. Striking through the thought of his dear ones was a
sound which he could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct,
metallic percussion like the stroke of a blacksmith's hammer upon the
anvil; it had the same ringing quality. He wondered what it was, and
whether immeasurably distant or near by--it seemed both. Its recurrence
was regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell. He awaited each
stroke with impatience and--he knew not why--apprehension. The
intervals of silence grew progressively longer, the delays became
maddening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in
strength and sharpness. They hurt his ear like the thrust of a knife; he
feared he would shriek. What he heard was the ticking of his watch.
He unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him. "If I could free
my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose and spring into the
stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously,
reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank
God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond
the invader's farthest advance."
As these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, were flashed
into the doomed man's brain rather than evolved from it the captain
nodded to the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.
Shivansh
Read next: Is The Air In Your Home Polluted?
News Flash - We Are Not Doomed!
Rishi Rathi
We've all seen enough images of forest fires, floods, droughts, and turtles dying of plastic pollution and at this point, these images have started to lose their shock value. As an ex-climate activist myself, I can tell that climate activism (not slacktivism) is not ill-intentioned, in fact, those peers are some of the most passionate folks I've ever worked with. But that short stint as an activist made me realize that there is something wrong with the way we sell climate change.
Fiskars Project Orange Thumb: Investing in the Future of Community Gardens and Urban Farms
Farmer Nick
I've never been food insecure. Every day of my life I have had access to nutritious meals three times a day (if not more) and there was always food somewhere in my house. The act of eating became a leisurely activity; something I looked forward to for my own adventurous culinary pursuits and social outings with friends. I never viewed it as a means of survival because I simply didn't have to, but as I've learned to grow my own food and immersed myself in our food system, I've discovered just how privileged I was and still am.
Trees in Finnish Folklore
Niina's Fairychamber
about a month ago
Spruces in Finnish folklore Approximately a quarter of Finnish woods are spruce forest. The tallest spruce can be found from the national part of Vesijako and it is 45 meters tall. Finnish word for spruce, kuusi is a proto-finno ugric word. Pines in Finnish folklore are connected to the sun and day, where as spruces are connected to the moon and night. Perhaps the name has something to do with the Finnish word for the moon, kuu.
A Loan Shark
Logan Smith
The broad who comes in about quarter to six has short blonde hair and this scar that runs all around her right thigh, puncture marks dotted in the shape of a massive crescent, and I know immediately that it's a bite mark. And I made it.
Children Of The West Palace
Lala Aras
As I laid in the green field across from our home I thought about how I was going to make enough money to help at home and also get a present for the upcoming birthday of my sisters. There were only a few two days left until then so I was clenching the grass in my hands thinking about that. I was in the middle of having an argument with myself about that situation when I heard my siblings giggling on their way over to me. I sat up straight and turned my head to the sight of Martin sitting on the arms of Janie and Janet, as if he was a king and our sisters the throne. They seemed so happy as they were stumbling about the whole place laughing so loudly that everyone who walked past us looked over to see what was happening.
In orbit, astronauts celebrate Christmas in a unique way.
Prasad Madusanka Herath
A SpaceX cargo ship delivered holiday sweets and research experiments to the International Space Station on Wednesday morning, just in time for Christmas.