The execution of Jose Sebastian, a Peruvian Soldier of the Pacific War, 1879, in the Mantaro Valley of Peru, was to commence immediately for disobeying an order from his commanding officer. Sergeant Sebastian stood accused by this bright-eyed, young officer; Jose being in his 40s, the young officer in his early twenties, with small thin wrists, and ankles, slumped shoulders, and slightly balled. Jose, wide-eyed, broad shoulders, thick fingers, and a dark shadow, even after he shaved upon his face. He was a whisky drinking, fighting soldier, but he had a kind heart, and cool head.

There Jose stood, high upon on the wooden gallows, his body swollen, neck red, bruised, pale like face, almost ghostly, from the abuse the Commanding Officer thrust upon him prior to his execution, as if he was no higher in evolution than a hog; but Jose stood there as if, after the hanging he had another purpose, and with all his hate and anger inside of him, he just as soon be hung quickly, to get on with unfinished business-thus, he stood there silently staring into the air, a glance and smirk at his Commanding Officer now and then.

The Executioner stood behind the condemned soldier, as he readied the final preparations for the termination of his life.

A ladder had been placed alongside the gallows, and along with the Commanding Officer, stood several other soldiers, and civilians, in the back fields of Huancayo, that someday would be named, El Tambo.

The Executioner cited his grievance, and a little drunk, stumbled toward the lever which would open the trap door under the feet of the sergeant, and, as a result, be hung, until death subdued him.

There was a woman amongst the crowd, a witch of sorts, or so many of the soldiers and town-let folks, said, proclaimed she was, one whom was befriended by the Peruvian Soldier, one who had pulled her out of the ensuing battle, that was took place earlier that day, a kind of uprising in the small town of Concepcion, in its plaza area, by Chilean soldiers, near the cathedral, deep in this Andean Valley. Yes, of course, she was saved and did not forget this good deed the soldier did for her.

She ran to the ladder, started to climb up it as if to save the Sergeant, screaming and yelping, "let him be, free him, he is a devoted soldier..." and the Commanding Officer, pulled her back down by her skirts, tumbling her to the ground, and then picking her back up like a rag doll, and pushing her back toward the gathered crowed.

"Curse, I curse you," said the old witch, as she faded into the mass, "may the dead spirits take ex-girlfriend revenge upon you, may this soldier's spirit join them in eating and haunting your soul, may you die with no rest, lest you set this soldier free, whom disobeyed an order, and saved my life in doing so!"

The Commanding Officer, cast a glance to the Executioner, made a vague sign to him, and thereafter, he, the Executioner released the lever that would open the trap door, leading to the Sergeant's death. But the door seemed to be jammed for no reason. It was at this moment, this very second, the Commanding Officer saw three ghosts behind he condemned man, ludicrous he thought, but nonetheless, he saw what he saw, they were negotiating who would get to join in on the retribution of the reckoning of the soul, the dominating of his spirit within the Commanding Officers fleshly frame.

It all unfolded so quickly, it was almost over before it started, or so it appeared; then he noticed by the lever, a forth ghoul, holding the lever so it would not release the trap door, holding it tightly until the negotiations were over, he was not about to allow the Executioner to go about his business unhinged.

At that very moment, the Officer jumped onto the ladder, "Stop! Stop!" he exclaimed, "don't pull that lever...!"

But it was all too late, the Executioner had pushed his weight on it, and it went automatically: so easy he thought, in comparison to a moment ago.

It was not a pretty scene thereafter, but I will try to describe it: all four ghosts, along with the spirit of the soldier, entered the Officer, as he inhaled, it was like black smoke entering an unoccupied frame: these apparitions, entered as he inhaled the cool musty air, whispering to his mind, "Condemned, condemned, condemned!" And the Officer held his stomach, his head, his throat, yelping: "Get them out of me!"

Written in the afternoon, at the caf "Mia Mamma," in El Tambo, Huancayo, Peru, 9-7-2008

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com