The Anthropology of Hanging
Part 1: Persia
This is the diary of one Lord Arthur Kingsley Weston, member of the Royal Anthropological Society.
April 21st, 1867
I left London five weeks ago. Lady Weston was becoming too much to bear.
Thankfully the Royal Anthropological Society was delighted by my proposal to do
a comparative study of execution methods around the world – which provided me
with an excellent excuse to get away from my wife. Also Lady Weston was less and
less willing to do our “marital duty” so I hoped I could pick up a few
mistresses on this trip. After taking a steamship to Beirut, I set off for
Persepolis. I had only just arrived this morning when my translator pointed out
a sign announcing a public hanging at dusk. Without checking in at our hotel, we
made our way to the outskirts of the city where the hanging was to take place.
The countryside was a dusty plain with scattered bushes and shrubs. We stood by
the gallows – a simple wooden crossbeam on two supporting pillars, easily the
tallest structure in the barren countryside surrounding the city – and waited as
a few curious people gathered to watch the spectacle. Then I saw the procession
from a distance: two soldiers on horseback and a line of black-clad mourners
following behind. As the procession drew nearer, I saw the condemned girl. Her
long straight hair was of the same pitch black colour as her simple robe. The
rumpled ankle-length execution robe was her only piece of clothing. Her hands
were tied behind her back but her bare feet were free to walk. One of the
soldiers was holding onto a rope that was fastened to the girl’s neck like a
leash. When they were about twenty feet from where we stood, I could distinguish
the girl’s facial features. She was young. Very young. Maybe 15, but not more.
What wrong she had done to
deserve the noose I do not know but she bore no mark of remorse. Her piercing
brown eyes stared emptily over her hooked nose. If she smiled, she’d be
exceedingly pretty, but the noose around her neck was nothing to smile about.
When they arrived in front of the gallows, the two soldiers got off their horses
and positioned the girl just underneath the crossbeam of the gallows. The girl
just stared down at the ground, not looking at anyone or anything but her two
little bare feet. In fact, everyone was in complete silence. Only the sobs a few
old ladies were audible. Then one of the soldiers pulled
a small wooden stool out from the pack his horse was carrying. He placed it
beneath the wooden crossbeam of the gallows. Without a word, the girl stepped
onto the stool. One of the guards took the loose end of the rope that was
already fastened to her neck, threw it over the crossbeam and pulled it taught
before fastening it securely to a metal ring on one of the side pillars.
This was it. Complete silence reigned. The girl just looked at her two bare feet
on the rickety stool. The soldier then said a few words in Parsee that I could
not understand. When he was done, he grabbed the stool with his hands and pulled
it out from beneath the girl. As the rope was taught, her feet only dropped an
inch or two due to her stretching neck. She let out a
sort of moan and grimaced but she could not scream for the noose had clenched
her jaw shut. To my astonishment, the girl stayed calm despite the pain she must
have been feeling. For about a minute, all you could hear was the rustling of
the wind. The girl was quiet. She still looked down at her bare feet, which were
gently swaying from side to side.
But after that initial minute, I could see that the girl was heaving her chest.
Obviously she was trying to breathe but to no avail. Then she started moaning.
She was in obvious pain. Her chest must have been burning. She curled her toes
and spread them out repeatedly. Her legs gave a few kicks but judging by her
grimaces, that was only making the pain worse. She
resigned once again to curling and uncurling her toes. After another minute, I
saw that her feet were twitching uncontrollably. The lack of oxygen was causing
tremors in her muscles. Soon you could see her entire body shaking beneath her
robe. As her head shook, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, revealing only
her pearly whites and saliva dribbled out of the corner
of her mouth. This was it, the final throes; she was losing control of her body!
It was so exciting! She looked like she was having an orgasm! Her body shook
violently from head to toe, but I don’t think she could feel any pain any more.
She must have been beyond pain by now, floating in the world between the dead
and the living.
The tremors stopped after another minute. Her muscles relaxed now and her neck
stretched a bit more. Her eyes were still half open but only the whites were
visible. Saliva was splattered all over her chin. And then I saw a yellow liquid
drip off her toes. Soon a small puddle of urine had formed beneath the girl’s
gently swaying feet. She was dead now.
The mourners slowly started going back into the city but the soldiers stayed to
guard her suspended body. With the help of my translator, I asked the guards
what they do with the body. They said that normally it would be delivered to her
husband, but this girl was sentenced to death for whoring herself to foreigners
- a very disgraceful crime - so they would simply bury
her in the common cemetery without a ceremony. I explained I was a British lord
on a scientific expedition and asked them if I could have the body for medical
experiments. Since she was a prostitute, they did not object.
That night, I had pleasured myself with her sweet body several times. Watching
this poor girl snuff it on the noose was so exciting that I had to have her
body. Her face was covered with saliva, her neck bruised where the rope had
been, her sex and her legs smelled of urine and her feet were filthy from
walking around barefoot, but I did not care. It just made the
sex more exciting…
I never thought watching a hanging could be so sexually arousing, but it is. I
have decided to make my anthropological study simply about hangings. None of the
other execution methods are quite as exciting. I will enter more in this journal
once I arrive in India...
Lord Weston
Copyright by Hangman X (2004).