Charles

Every morning Charles arose in darkness for his morning walks. He savored the mist over the empty streets and then the faint purple glow against the horizon. At first the horizon meant the clay rooftops, then a patch of woods, and finally the shallow hills of the countryside. By the time he had sauntered off the cobblestone and onto the dirt path, the dew shimmered on the prairie and the silhouette of Garvey's barn could be seen way off in the distance. The silence was pure other than the gravel beneath his feet, and would finally be broken as the birds commenced their ruckus among the intermittent willows, which spotted the landscape like hundreds of shaggy puff balls; completely still in the heavy air.

Today was like any another in the mid-summer, and he didn't expect a soul to awake by the time he returned. As such, he was surprised to hear splashing in the stream nearby. He decided to adjust his course and slowly walked through the tall grass to the edge of the valley. The splashing continued as his journey became encumbered by a rock pile and a steep grade. His curiosity overcame him, and despite his weak bones he decided he must see what was causing this unfamiliar disturbance. As he finally crawled to the crest, he looked down into the valley. What he saw startled him.

A burley middle-aged man was dragging a young girl out of a stream, her bloody legs thrashing the calm water. He turned his head and covered his eyes, but couldn't help but look through a crack in his fingers as tears began to well in his eyes. Helpless, he observed three men hold down the struggling girl as the other had his way with her. She was bound with a gag, which muzzled her screams entirely, and her hair was gnarled with sand. He recognized her. She was Tom Garvey's daughter, Ann, the sweetest little girl he had ever known. Her 12th birthday was yesterday, and his wife had helped her mother bake the cake. As one of the men raised his hand he closed his eyes and heard the crack off her cheek. He shuddered in horror and loathed his old, weak frame. He knew he was helpless.

After all had taken their turn, her battered body lay half covered by the slow moving stream. When the sound of laughter faded into the distance, Charles rushed down the inside of the valley as hastily as caution allowed. He cradled her head and sobbed, telling her it would be alright, removing the gag. She was barely conscious, her clothing torn, and bloody scars ravaged her delicate skin. He knew what he needed to do.

With all his strength, Charles lifted Ann's frail body and began scaling up and out of the valley. His joints ached with arthritis and the pain shook him tremendously. The rage from what he had witnessed was all that carried her as he finally approached the crest. By now his shirt was soaked in his blood. Every step along the gravel shot terrible pangs through him. With every last bit of his strength he carried her to the edge of the cobblestone and then his body failed him. With his last, he lowered her gently onto the grass and shuffled as quickly as he could into town. He decided to go directly to the doctor's house, through the woods. He knew that Dr. Gray had a carriage and could ride to her quickly. He marched bravely, knowing each step was causing grave damage to his faltering body. Finally, he could see Dr. Gray's stable through the trees. He knew he could make it.

With his goal in sight, he cried out as he tripped and fell headlong into a boulder. Dazed, he continued to crawl toward Dr. Gray's house. He tried to holler, but his throat had grown horse. In the distance he heard something call out. To his relief it was Ann...she was screaming for help. He prayed someone would hear her. They did. He lowered his head against the mossy soil and sobbed as he heard a group of men from town running for her aid. "Thank God" he muttered before slipping out of consciousness.

Her body lay in a pool of blood as the men rushed over to her. Her father walked a few yards into the grass and vomited as Dr. Gray knelt over Ann, wrapping bandages on her torn flesh.

To Dr. Gray's anger and astonishment, Ann's father interrupted the treatment and took her daughter by the head.

"Who did this to you!?" he pleaded.
"Tell me, please, who did this to you!?"

She was delirious and incoherent. She bobbed her head back and forth.

"WHO DID THIS TO YOU, ANN!?"

Finally, they heard the slightest whisper.

"Char...Charles...he...he."

Ann's father's eyes filled with rage and bewilderment. He lowered her head and finally allowed Dr. Gray to resume caring for her.

Ann died from her wounds hours later.

That afternoon, a manhunt began. It did not take more than a half hour to find him sleeping in the middle of the dense forest at the edge of town, near where he had fallen. Ann's father reached for his hand and a tear fell from his cheek as he felt his daughter's blood on his hand.

They helped Charles back to town and placed him in jail.

The next day everyone gathered in town square for the execution. Charles stood on the gallows wearing the same bloody shirt, at Ann's father's request. The noose was hung around his neck and he was asked if he had any last words. Charles, weak of breath and still hoarse, managed to utter...

"God rest her soul..."

They dropped the trap door and his neck snapped. Charles was buried in an unmarked grave in the forest.