Joke's on them, I didn't die. I can hear the murmur of the disassembling crowd that watched the hanging and of the executioners at the gallows. I bet if I didn't have this sack over my head I could put a real scare into them, maybe even kill one, by shock if not by my bare hands. Well, I can't move my arms to take the damn thing off of my head. For that matter, I can't move much of anything. I can't hear anyone anymore. I hope they come back to take me down. I want to see. I wonder why I can breathe so easily. Wait, am I breathing? I'm not. I can't. That can't be. I don't feel like I'm suffocating. It must have been a minute or more since I was hanged.
I'm dead, aren't I? Joke's on me. Why can I still think? Why am I still here? I know that I can't be in Heaven, that's a given. But where am I? This certainly isn't Hell, or if it is, it's a much sweeter deal than I'd imagined.
What now? You know, in my defense, I was innocent. Who am I kidding? Myself? I did kill Walter Thomas. Saying that feels good, especially after the trial where it's opposite was my redeemer from the gibbet. It's not much to say that now, hanging here, but that doesn't change facts. Who would have done otherwise? He cheated me! You see, I gave him eighteen dollars to invest in that lousy tobacco farm he told me about and I never saw a cent of it return. He didn't even have the decency to make up an excuse as to why. “Ain't my problem,” he'd say. I didn't let a week go by before I made it his problem and asked him for my eighteen dollars back with my six-shooter up his nose. He made the mistake of calling my bluff. You see where that got him.
So here I am, paralyzed and blind, left to rot in the sun and stink in the town. At least I'll get to take that much revenge. Rather I would wring the necks of my executioners, but the dead can only really be allowed so much. Especially, I suppose, dead murderers. This, though, is a situation whose outcomes guarantee me some sort of benefit. If I'm actually given a real Christian burial so I can get on to Hell instead of sticking around in this crater any longer, I'll be able to get this itchy burlap bag off of my face, but if left to suspend here, they'll get a noseful of sun-baked man-flesh for a couple of weeks. Joke's on them, I won after all, even though I'm the hangman.
I wonder if I'll see that old con Walter in the Abyss. That's doubtful; I'd take a lot of pleasure from that, and peddling pleasure isn't Satan's job. Walter's family must have taken a beating when he snuffed it. Old lady Thomas and her six little fiends, God, I wouldn't be surprised to find them rending my guts with Beelzebub. The old mother can't do a thing with her constant expecting and downgrading shell. I think I saw her sneering at me when they put on my hood. How's that for a last sight? I'll bet she was happy about it. Probably the only thing she can be happy about, the widow with six kids, and probably a seventh still in her. Who would marry the woman carrying her dead husband's brood? I sure as Hell wouldn't.
She'd better make my eighteen bucks last, because there's no way she's getting a job here, and no one but a halfwit would hire a four year old to enter the coalmines. Maybe they have a shot. If not, she'll be hearing a lot of whining from six mouths that haven't been filled. I wish that bastard Walter was here to see that. If he were, on the other hand, they wouldn't be. He wins either way, too. Damn it.
Are those footsteps? They're coming closer. Now they're leaving. Thanks for your help. Damn this hood. It's starting to itch. God, if I could scratch my head. Thinking about it's making it worse. Kind of hard not to think about it, though. This is getting serious. I'm running out of things to think about; looking at the inside of this black bag isn't quite up to par with the mental stimulation I'm craving.
I guess I can't blame widow Thomas for what her husband did, or her kids. I can blame them for using my money, whether I killed Walter or not. The least they could do is to return my money to my grave. Or maybe that's the most they could do. I can't tell from this vantage point the economic situation of the scoundrels. Where is my grave?
I don't care what your financial state is, don't you patently steal from me. Walter's wife and children weren't at fault, I guess I'll admit, but he was, and that's why I didn't harm them. Except for taking their only source of income from them. But I didn't kill them. Not directly, I mean. I think.
Well, Walter didn't seem to think much of his life, not even giving in when I brandished my gun in his face! He might have used it already. I don't know. I hope I find out in Hell.
Speaking of which, when am this journey going to start? I'm getting rather bored in here. I haven't even been taken off of this damn rope yet, and my head is starting to smart badly.
They deserved it! What if Walter had done it to someone in a worse situation than even I was in? I was thinking of the victims he hadn't yet schemed! I wasn't as bad as they said I was!
They weren't such a bad family; even Walter was okay at times. I hope he wasn't too upset about my taking him from his family. The kids are probably starving already. I don't know if they can all be supported by the one aging wife. Well, she seemed to be at peace with me, sneering so malevolently at me as though to brand it on my mind forever. I can honestly say that I still remember it exactly. Everything else I feel absolutely ignorant about. So many questions.
I didn't really want it to turn out like that. I just approached him with my gun to see if he would only give back what I asked. That's all I wanted. I didn't hurt him on purpose, I wasn't meaning to doom eight other humans to misery and perhaps an even crueler death than either of us underwent!
What's happening outside of this box? Will my questions ever be answered? How long must I wait? Three more for the collection. Why can't I stop?
It wasn't up to me; I needed the money! I hadn't eaten in a day; those eighteen dollars were almost all I had! Why am I still here? When will I drop into the Pit? Have they forgotten about me? I didn't want to hurt anyone!
Will they forgive me? Will they even have enough time to given their uncertain situation? Will they be okay? I'm terrible! Don't let them die! How will I know? Will I ever know? An answer, please! I don't want to be left here, ignorant, guilty! God, please, a word, any word! Answer me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry…