Gallows With fingers knotted in a noose the old manâ€™s hand strangled the neck of the paper bag, bottle shaped, beside him on the bench. No draught could swing a man so high as the visions he could find inside or dangle him so precipitously over the edge of his life. Running a shaking left finger inside the deteriorating collar of another dayâ€™s shirt he attempted to loosen the impending knot. Slipping his hand inside the bag he ran reverent fingers over the sweating sides of the waiting sanctuary and touched the blessed moisture to his lips. Then shaking his head jerkily to scatter the final fragments of his mind he lifted his own right arm and sought the salvation sliding down his throat.
~ Ruth Ann Allaire
Fredericksburg Literary & Art Review Volume 3, Issue 1