The italic writing is part of the original story, external link attached in case anyone wanted to read the real short story.
Enjoy!
As he pushes open the gate and passes up the wide, white walk, he sees a flutter of female garments; his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the veranda to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a smile of ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forward with extended arms. As he is about to clasp her he feels a stunning blow upon the back of the neck; a blinding white light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of a cannon--then all is darkness and silence!
Sound soon returns to Farquhar as he looks up at the brightly lit sky to see a uniform clad soldier standing over his disheveled figure. A sense of dread fills his heart, one which squeezes his chest as if a python was engulfing it's next meal. He stands, struggling to win the fight with his bounds. His arms are wrapped tightly against his chest with soiled rope. He ventured to assume it had been left in the rain, for it smelled of soil and earth. An additional small cord of rope was tied around his wrists, bites at the tender skin which is covered.
He squinted his eyes and glanced around him, taking in the day which was to be marked as his last. He was shoved from behind by another, this one appeared to be higher ranking. The shine of his pins and the stone cold gaze made the man, which he identified as a sergeant, ooze of power. Farquhar understood the intention of the shove and began to walk forward, disheartedly trailing behind the foot soldier who had awakened him from his slumber. Finally, they arrived at a bridge. Which, unstable as it appears, once could hold the weight of a train as it passed through. It's loud engine which you could almost always hear arguing with the roaring water below. When they reach the foot of the bridge, the soldier in front of him turned to face him. However it was not to acknowledge him, but the sergeant behind him. He saluted his higher ranking officer respectfully and bade him farewell. A guilty expression covered his face, and his thick eyebrows furrowed as he glanced once at the bounded man before him. However, he quickly masked it and turned towards the other direction, walking back to the camp from which he came.
As soon as he left, the sergeant began to untie Farquhar's bounds. The skin that had been twisted under the rope stung as the cold air blew against it. He was then shoved harshly towards the bridge, almost stumbling to the ground from the force. He looked slightly behind him, wanting to once more see the face of the man who had been put in charge of taking another man's life. When he looked, the sergeant was slightly faced away from him, looking out towards the horizon, a grim looked overtaking his features. That was all Farquhar needed to dash across the bridge, his body working before he could even finish the thought in his mind. He could run, run was fast as was humanly possible. The burning of his lungs assured him of a speedy travel. One which would lead him to the love of his life, and the beautiful family they had made. But as suddenly as the adrenaline came, is disappeared as three shots rang out in the crisp air. Darkness enveloped his mind time came to a stand still.
Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, struck by bullets, floated with the current beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.
A/N: Hey Unique Peeps!
Sorry for falling off the edge of the earth. School's got my SUPER busy. However for one of my school assignments I finally got to write a story, so I figured it was my chance to get back on here. Anyhow hope you enjoyed!
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