Suicide, or murder? Who knows.


1. Prologue

His body hung, swinging in the gentle night-time breeze. His legs like withering plants, danging pathetically less than a foot from the ground. He was swathed in his night clothes, torn, ripped and bloodied, strips trailing deplorably down to his ankles where slits feathered his skin. Where the cuts stopped, the bruises began; ugly and purple, some small and some large. There were even bite marks, made by human teeth, but too small for an adult; even children had been involved with this ordeal, indoctrinated by their parents and elders to be intolerant of others. Nail marks scratched down his bare sides where his shirt was torn and mud splattered all over him, amalgamating with the blood to form a disgraceful mixture. His bare feet were tinged blue, as were his arms, where deep red rub marks around his wrists branded him where he'd been tied up with rope. 

The tree supported his body like a parent cradling a child, letting it's leaves caress his bedraggled body in petty attempts to cure his fatal wounds all too late. The thick trunk dug it's thick, finger-like roots deep down into the ground, balancing it and forming an everlasting bond with the land. The rough bark of the tree matched the texture of the man's maimed skin. It had a long arm, protruding out and pointing towards the north, with a rope wrapped around it. It was thick, strong and durable. Easily tough enough to sustain the weight of a grown man.

He had a paper bag covering his head, with scrawled writing upon it, in the messy handwriting of the man behind it, hiding the grim, twisted face that signalled his death. The sun peeked above the horizon, a crimson slit similar to those that mutilated the man's body, shedding light on the horrific scene. The great old tree was silhoutted against the golden sky, with the heinous figure featuring a main part in the image. He stood upon a hill, proudly towering above the city, waiting people to awake and find him there. 

It was odd, the people thought, as they wandered towards him, to find a white man lynched. But then again, it was 1920s in America - and with the KKK knocking about, anything was possible.

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