the hearing, the hanging

8/3/2019 The Hearing, the Hanging

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The Hearing, theHanging.

By Oliver CurtisDalton Daughtrey

Avery Walker


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It was a cold winter day, mid-January, in a small town just south of San

Francisco. The sky was overcast and a slight drizzle covered the streets in a slick

composite of grime and moisture, rendering them a dull gray color that seemed to

personify the sense of gloom that permeated the settlement. Outside the town, a dense

forest, coniferous in nature, stretched for miles indeterminable, just barely held at bay

by the threat of civilization. Tall, lush hemlocks and spruces dominate the sky, soaring

ever upward, towards the heavens. Sparse clumps of redwoods dot the horizon, the

king of the conifer. A single highway, winding and wild, for the railroad had not yet

reached this part of the country, snakes from the town, trekking through the forest andonward towards the sea.

In the small town, there lived a man by the name of William Crane, the owner of

Cranes General Store, which happened to be the only general store in 50 miles.

William Crane was a man of frequent suspicious speculation, due to the fact that he was

not a native citizen of the town. He had moved from New York City in the east to San

Fransisco before taking up residence in his current abode. Upon his arrival in the town,

he proceeded to purchase the general store from its sickly, dying owner, taking over the

business. As time meandered slowly on, dragging its heels as it influenced the small

town, the occupants distrust of Mr. Crane faded, only a sliver of doubt now lingering.

William Crane only hastened his gradual acceptance with the fair manner with which he

conducted his business, contrasting drastically with the previous owners practices.

It was the continuance of these practices that William undertook on such a day

as this, bustling through his shop, the epitome of neatness. As the bell above the

doorway rang, announcing the entrance of a patron, he hurried behind his counter.


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Upon seeing that the customer was the newly-wedded Mrs. Emily Alcott, Williams

countenance brightened immediately. However may I assist you Mrs. Alcott?, he

asked in his most amiable tone. I was wondering whether you might have canvas for

painting in your inventory. she replied. Moving out from behind the counter with the

most possible haste, he accompanied Mrs. Alcott towards the corner of the store

dedicated to textiles and cloth. Hearing the bell again, he noticed the arrival of his junior

shopkeeper, a small, wiry boy of around 17 with sandy blond hair and light blue eyes,

who was his apprentice of a sorts. With barely a glance in his direction, Mr. Crane called

to the apprentice, Take that basket on the counter to Widow Anderson if you dontmind, shes bedridden with the ague. Nodding in affirmation, the apprentice gathered

the compiled merchandise and left the store. Mrs. Alcott purchased the canvas she

requested, as well as a tin washtub, then left. It was in a similar fashion that the rest of

the day drudged on, with the occasional customer drifting in and out of the shop. When

closing time came around, Crane closed up shop, a methodical procedure he had

repeated a thousand times before that consisted of sweeping the floors and counters,

locking up his more valuable merchandise, and bolting the door shut, then departed, a

look of somber disposition reflected in his visage.

When William awoke the subsequent morning, he dressed, ate a hearty

breakfast, and prepared for another day at the general store. On the way there, he

couldnt help but notice the subdued behavior of those individuals he passed on the

street, their appearance tense and uneasy, indicating something in the town was amiss.

This, along with the perpetually bleak atmosphere in the town, set quite a dismal mold

for the remainder of the day.


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Upon his arrival at the general store, he found his junior shopkeeper already

there. Noticing his employers entrance, the apprentice promptly called out to him,

saying, Mr. Crane, have you heard? Mr. Alcott was found dead this morning! William

Cranes expression was oddly devoid of emotion at the revelation, the perfect image of

impassivity. He responded in an inflection of neutrality, asking, Under what

circumstance? How was he killed? They say Mrs. Alcott went to the well this morning

to draw up water to boil, and when she brought up the pail, it was tinged red with blood!

She went to the sheriff after she noticed her husband was missing. Someone went and

pushed Mr. Alcott down the well! How terrible indeed! exclaimed Mr. Crane, finallypermitting an iota of emotion on his features. I suppose Mrs. Alcott is quite distraught!

I would imagine so! She announced the funeral will be around noon tomorrow, the

apprentice answered. Acknowledging his apprentices statement with a nod, William

went back to work recording the stores inventory.

The remainder of the day drew on in a similar manner to the day before, filled

with the tedious and often monotonous chores ever inherent in the running of a

business. The only incongruity was the unhappy mood derived from the death of Mr.

Alcott that seemed present in everyone who visited the store on some errand or

another. As the day came to a close, Mr. Crane once again closed the shop, right

before the rosy dusk faded into dim twilight, and headed home. News that a new

general store had opened up the previous day, threatening to steal his business, only

added to his overall ill-humor.

The following day, after concluding some ventures and business obligations he

had out and about the town, William returned home and put on his best suit, in


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preparation of the funeral which was to be held at noon. Hailing a coach off the street,

Mr. Crane got in and took a seat. A brief flash of pure astonishment, quick as lightning,

flashed across his face as he recognized the other person in the coach. Adorned all in

black, there sat the wife of the late Mr. Alcott, whose very funeral he was now attending!

Mrs. Alcott, I offer you my most sincere condolences for your loss, he began

graciously. I appreciate your sympathy William, but I find it best not to dwell on such

matters, she interjected, cutting his half-formed sentence in half. I see, Crane lied, not

comprehending the general direction of their dialog. Are you going remain at your

current residence or will you be moving away now? he inquired, trying to keep his tonefree of implications. I havent decide yet, she replied, gazing out the coach window.

After a short moment, in which William pondered the meaning of her response, he too

peered outside. They were just leaving the outskirts of the town, into the wilderness

without. As they traveled deeper into the depths of the heavy forest, now in silence,

William examined the wild, yet dark beauty of the vast timberland enveloping the coach,

casting flickering shadows on the path as light struggled to break through the majestic

canopy. He spoke absentmindedly, an effort to subdue the heavy quiet, Truly, I resent

the necessity of cities, corrupt and filthy; how I would like to live here, in the deepest

reaches of the forest, under its needled ceiling.

William immediately observed the point were the site of the funeral and burial

began, for it was a meadow in which the light shone freely through. As the coach eased

to a stand-still, he helped Mrs. Alcott down and out onto the well-groomed grass that

seemed so alien inside the depths such a forest. As they both joined the congregation

that had assembled in the meadow, the procession started, beginning with a fiery


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sermon from the local clergymen, Reverend John Guillotine. As the service continued,

William stole quick glances at Mrs. Alcott, who seemed oddly at ease for someone

whos spouse had been decease but a day. A sudden thought must have interrupted his

attentive observations, for he looked around the congregation in search of his

apprentice, who was nowhere to be found. Once more, he returned to contemplating

Mrs. Alcott's plight, till his reverie was broken by the sound of men scuffling, and shouts

burst the relatively respectful silence that was accompanied by Reverend Guillotines

invocations. Over all the commotion and indignant shouts, a voice rang clearly out,

Thomas Reed, the new shopkeeper has been found dead in a creek just north of here!Utter chaos ensued and it took a span of time to get the congregation back to its

previous state of tranquility. Reverend Guillotine aided much in the settling of his

audience, his voice blatantly booming and boisterous. The funeral procession,

interruption finally at an end, concluded, and the congregation began to disperse. Mr.

Crane looked about a second time, trying to locate his apprentice but finding him not, he

returned to the coach.

Like many others who had been present at the funeral, William headed north,

towards Pine Creek, seeking to observe the scene at which the other general store

owner had been found dead. When he had arrived, a crowd had formed around a

roped-in square. Inside the square, a couple policemen, in addition to the towns sheriff,

were examining the body of the shopkeeper. As his gaze raked across the scene before

him, William identified a familiar face, on of the very reaches of his peripheral vision.

Turning to the figure, he realized why the face was familiar; it was his apprentice, who

hadnt been in attendance of the funeral. As he turned to approach him and reprimand


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him for his absence, he felt a firm grip latch onto his shoulder. Recoiling in indignation,

he spun around to see who dared to harass him in such a manner and came face to

face with the sheriff, flanked by two stout policemen. Mr. Crane, youre under arrest for

the murder of Richard Alcott and Thomas Reed.

The rest of the day and all of the next he spent in the cold, dark cell of the

towns prison. He was brought a trough of water and a dry crust of bread twice, for the

standards pertaining to how criminals were to be treated were quite dismal in the small

town. On the dawn of the second day of his incarceration, he was informed that his

hearing would be later on that day and that the outlook of his survival was rather bleak.More than once, William asked of the evidence behind his arrest, to which the sheriff

promptly responded, Come now, dont play us to be fools! Youre affection for Mrs.

Alcott is quite well-known and that shopkeeper was obvious competition!

Crane was removed from the cheerless cell. The policemen consented to let him

bathe and change clothes, then he was shackled with iron manacles and transported to

the court room where his trial was to take place. As he surveyed the gathering

onlookers, he couldnt help but notice the increasingly habitual lack of his junior

shopkeepers presence.

It was just as the jury, court officials, and spectators had taken their seats and

the trial was about to proceed when the door of the court room banged open and Ernest

Faulkner, the towns newspaper editor, strode in. Theres been another killin! he

announced boldly, certain that every soul inside the room stood, their attention riveted

upon his every word. Judge McCreeds wife was just found under Mr. Herons corn

grist mills waterwheel, drowned and beat to death! It is needless to say that the ruckus


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caused by those few short sentences was nothing less than tumultuous. Even Judge

McCreed, who presided over the hearing, was reduced to tears and cursing of the most

obscene nature. It was in this moment that William Crane took advantage of the crowd,

exploiting the rage and overall lack of sense generally present in a mob. Standing up,

he shouted, It must have been that apprentice of mine, he was off on some venture

about the time of every killing! This served to enrage the crowd to an even greater

extent, for the Judges wife was well liked about the town and seen as a sort of role

model by many. It took no time at all before the junior shopkeeper was found and

dragged back to the court room. He was given an impromptu trial, and was sentencedto hanging the following morn.

Relief obviously etched on his features, Mr. Crane left the court room, heading

back to the little apartment that was his singular abode. Along the way, he passed Mrs.

Alcotts house, a two-story structure with vaguely Greek architecture, and heard what

sounded like two people in a struggle. Intrigued, he opened the small gate at the

entrance to her yard and went around to the rear of the house. It was there that he was

confronted with the most horrific image he had ever had the misfortune to experience;

Mrs. Alcott, wooden cudgel in hand, was proceeding to strike who appeared to be the

widowed mother of his junior shopkeeper about the neck while simultaneously holding

her head beneath the water of a washtub. He watched, stunned and horrified as the

flailing of Mrs. Alcotts quarry slowed, then stopped altogether, finally going sickeningly

limp.

The following day, citizens of the town noted the sudden disappearance of both

Mr. William Crane and Mrs. Emily Alcott. People were dismayed to find Cranes general


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store abandoned, without a trace of the former shopkeeper. Later that evening, the

apprentice was hung, death taking its final toll on the town, blanketing it in darkness

reminiscent of the eternal twilight of the forest outside. Years crawled slowly on in the

town, yet no one ever forgot the strange occurrences of that week. Though many

searched for the disappearing pair, Mr. Crane and Mrs. Alcott were never seen again.


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Analysis:

Point of View: 3rd Person Objective

Figurative Language:

Alliteration- blatantly booming and boisterous

Metaphor- redwoods/ king of the conifer

Hyperbole- he had repeated a thousand times before

Situational Irony - The woman William Crane displays affection for is the actual

murderer and the apprentice is hung, even though we find out he is innocent.

Conflict-

External- There are repeated murders in the town.

Internal- William is confused as to what he should do about Mrs. Alcott after her

husbands death.

Five Is of Romanticism:

Inspiration from nature: The imagery used when describing the surrounding

forest and Williams stated preference for it rather than city life.

Imagination: Inflated diction rather than plain-style. The mob displaying that

emotion is supreme over reason.

the hearing, the hanging

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