Read An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge Page 3

to be the right direction. It was as wide andstraight as a city street, yet it seemed untraveled. No fieldsbordered it, no dwelling anywhere. Not so much as the barking of adog suggested human habitation. The black bodies of the trees formeda straight wall on both sides, terminating on the horizon in a point,like a diagram in a lesson in perspective. Overhead, as he looked upthrough this rift in the wood, shone great golden stars lookingunfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. He was sure theywere arranged in some order which had a secret and malignsignificance. The wood on either side was full of singular noises,among which--once, twice, and again--he distinctly heard whispers inan unknown tongue.

  His neck was in pain and lifting his hand to it found it horriblyswollen. He knew that it had a circle of black where the rope hadbruised it. His eyes felt congested; he could no longer close them.His tongue was swollen with thirst; he relieved its fever by thrustingit forward from between his teeth into the cold air. How softly theturf had carpeted the untraveled avenue--he could no longer feel theroadway beneath his feet!

  Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking,for now he sees another scene--perhaps he has merely recovered from adelirium. He stands at the gate of his own home. All is as he leftit, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He musthave traveled the entire night. As he pushes open the gate and passesup the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of female garments; hiswife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the veranda tomeet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a smileof ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah, howbeautiful she is! He springs forwards with extended arms. As he isabout 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 theshock of a cannon--then all is darkness and silence!

  Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gentlyfrom side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.

 
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net

Share this book with friends