A short story by LJ Kundananji
What inspired this story is simply the question: does true love really exist?
John and Sarah had vowed that, come what may, they would always be together. Indeed, they had vowed that no force in the whole universe would rip them apart. This strong their love was, and with the passing of time, it got stronger still.
It was a day like any other in Twilight. The bright morning sunshine cast its warm smile upon the town, the roosters heralded the new day by crowing from their perching poles, and the people roused from a night of restful sleep and prepared to go for work or to school, as the case may be. And somewhere, in a cozy little cottage, a beautiful young woman yawned, stretched and rubbed her eyes to get rid of all the slumber in them. With the grace of a gazelle, she slid out of her bed and walked to her mirror. Her long, silky rob swept the floor as she walked, making it seem as if she were not walking but gliding along the shiny bedroom floor. She stared at the image of herself long and hard and finally chuckled with satisfaction. She was beautiful, and no one in the world would dispute that. She was breathtakingly beautiful, yes, but she only cared because her fiancé found her so.
As the image of John’s long handsome face came into her mind, she suddenly felt her heart race. She cringed away from the mirror and quickly dressed up.
Barely a minute later, she was trudging down the stairs to the kitchen. Her parents, who sat at the kitchen table sipping at their hot cups of coffee and talking in undertones, looked up in alarm as she burst into the room. There was a wild look on her face, and her hair was not falling gently to her shoulders like it was supposed to: it was unkempt and flying in all directions. They were not accustomed to this wildness, for their daughter was always gentle and serene. She strode across the room towards the door with a manly gait that almost gave them fits. They had trained their girl to display the highest standards of etiquette and have the tranquil disposition of a well-mannered lady (in Twilight, all girls and women were expected to behave daintily and decorously). This display, whether deliberate or not, was certainly undesirable.
“Sarah!” Her mother called as she reached out for the coat that was hanging from one of the hooks beside the door.
“Ma,” she answered, turning to stare at her with goggle eyes.
“Are you out of your mind?” her mother shouted, “Where are you going this early, looking as though you were just from fighting a bull?”
This question unsettled her: she stopped, stood still, her hand still outstretched towards the coat. She stared from her mother to her father and breathed in deeply.
“It’s John,” she said, dropping her hand.
This revelation sort of pacified them because their faces lost their tense expressions and softened. A smile spread across her mother’s face, one which betrayed the understanding and discernment that comes from years of experience.
“Is anything the matter with him, dear?” Her mother asked with the gentle concern innate in mothers.
“I don’t know ma,” she said, her eyes full of worry.
“What do you mean by that?” Her father asked in a gruff voice with a look on his face that clearly showed that he was wondering whether his only daughter was on the brink of madness.
“I just have a feeling that something’s wrong,” she said in a desperate tone.
“Go, dear,” her mother said encouragingly. Knowing how close her daughter was to her fiancé, she knew better than to stop her.
“Thanks ma,” she said with a sense of relief. She quickly put on the coat, pulled the heavy door open and slipped out.
The warm rays of sunshine hit her face and gently caressed it. She breathed in deeply, and shuddered as she did so. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that kept growing with each step she made.
“Oh John,” she breathed as she hastened her pace.
When she reached John’s place she was alarmed to find no little fracas. The little gate to his house was crowded with a mob of people who were waving their fists angrily and shouting at the same time. Her hair stood on end at the sight.
When the crowd saw her, it immediately quieted down and gave way to her as though she were a queen. Each and every eye turned to stare at her with fear and anxiety. Sarah looked around questioningly. She grabbed one of the girls who was standing nearby by the hand and pulled her away from the crowd. With an eye on the open door of John’s house, she asked the girl in a whisper:
“What’s happening ’ere?”
“We are all angry because they have taken John away.” She said in a trembling voice.
Sarah suddenly grew stiff and tightened her grip on her hand.
“What do you mean ‘they have taken John away’?” She squealed, her eyes bulging out.
The girl did not answer. She just stared back at her with her face reeking of pure fear. Sarah pushed her aside and ran into the house, jumping over the steps on the doorway as though they were none.
Inside the house was the greatest state of disarray that she had ever seen. Almost all the furniture in the living-room was turned over. She looked around the little room frantically.
“John!” she shrieked. “Where’re you?”
She seemed to have quite forgotten what the little girl had told her and made to search all the other rooms. She rushed to the bedroom, whose door was wide open, and turned her head this way and that. She searched through his closet, looked up at the ceiling, and finally fell upon her knees and hands and took a thorough look under the bed. As she was doing that, a huge voice behind her said:
“Ma’am, what do you think you are doing?”
She instantly got to her feet and spun. Her face fell upon the fierce countenance of a policeman standing in the doorway of the room. He was grasping a baton in one hand that he hit against the palm of the other in a slow rhythmical manner.
Sarah eyed him with disdain, her chest heaving with each breath she took.
“Where’s he?” she asked.
“Your fiancé?” the policeman chuckled and snorted in diabolical manner, for he knew all about Sarah and John, and their amazing love. So, indeed, he felt privileged that he was seeing it for himself. He could see how distressed the young lady was and he was quite enjoying it. Presently he said:
“We have arrested him.”
Sarah shuddered from head to toe in a very conspicuous manner. She went all pale and feeble, and was on the verge of passing out.
“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling in tune with the rest of her body.
“Because he killed a person,” he declared with a dark expression on his face.
He had hardly finished speaking when a sudden wave of insanity seemed to sweep over the lady. In a flash, she rushed forward and hurled herself at him. A shower of fists greeted him.
“John’s not a killer!” she was screaming with bloodshot eyes. “John’s not a killer!”
The policeman easily subdued her and clamped her hands with only one of his, which was not only large and muscular, but all the veins on it stood out; and he had his sleeves rolled up as if to show off this dangerous tool. He waved the baton before the girl’s face and grinned widely.
“I am sorry ma’am,” he roared, “all evidence points to that fact!”
“I don’t believe you!” Sarah hissed in between clenched teeth. She fought furiously to break free, but it was all futile, as the policeman only held tighter.
“For your own good ma’am, don’t struggle, else I’ll arrest you for assorting a policeman!”
Sarah stopped struggling and grew limp. The man let go of her.
“There there,” he said, “I’m sure this’s very distressing to you; but this man’s done a very vile deed. He killed his workmate yesterday in cold blood. He’s a cold blooded killer, he is!”
Sarah felt like slapping him, but she restrained her quivering hand. It would only make things worse for sure. She breathed in deeply.
“Where’s he?” she managed to ask.
“The police station, of course—safely behind bars!”
Immediately she heard that, she took to her heels. She did not know exactly what happened next nor how it happened, but she soon found herself at the police station staring in sheer disbelief at the face of her beloved John, drenched in misery and behind bars.
“You got only a minute!” the policeman who had escorted her screamed from behind as she stood petrified in front of the cell.
“Can you please let me in?” she asked pleadingly.
“Sorry ma’am,” he said in a solemn manner. “I can’t do that. I’m not authorized to.”
Sarah nodded to show that she understood and walked towards John, who pushed his hands through the bar. She grasped them and gently squeezed them. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she stared into his face. He stared back at her with bulging eyes, deep with sorrow.
“Sarah.” he breathed, “I did not do it.”
“I know,” she quivered as she reached out to stroke his face through the bars. Her head seemed to follow the stroking movements of her hand.
“I have been set up,” he revealed, his voice breaking with emotion. He bit his lip as the tears flowed down his cheeks. He grasped her hand and held it against his face to feel its warmth. “An enemy has done this.”
“We’ll prove you innocent, my dearest.” Her voice was suddenly charged with confidence. “We’ll get the best lawyer in town and prove you innocent.”
This revelation cheered him up slightly. He managed to smile a bit. He reached out and touched her long, curly, black hair. Its rich texture seemed to send a spark of life through his miserable organism.
“What happened exactly?” she inquired with a serious expression.
“A fellow workmate and I had an argument yesterday… it was stupid, but I got angry and said something silly, that I would kill him; and this morning, they found him dead a few minutes away from the factory. A number of people had heard what I had said, so e’ryone thinks I did it.”
“Oh John!” she gasped. “’Tis an awful thing!”
“I didn’t do it,” he said earnestly, staring into her face.
“I know you didn’t,” she said reassuringly, “I see it in your eyes.”
John took her hand and caressed it. “You know they will kill me if—”
She hushed him with a finger. “Don’t e’en think o’ it. We’ll get you ou’ of ‘ere.”
For a moment, the two of them stood without saying a word, staring at each other, silently contemplating this great tragedy that had befallen them. But, deep down, they both knew that they were going to overcome it like they had overcome all the other challenges they had met.
“Time’s up!” the policeman suddenly shouted. “Wrap it up!”
“We’ll get you out, dearest,” she said as she let go of his hand. “Whate’er it takes, we’ll get you out.”
He sniffled and felt a warm glow in his heart.
Sarah was not bluffing when she said she would get the best lawyer in town. With the help of her father, she hired Mr. Turner, a stout little man with a bald head and a few scattered grey hairs. Though he was anything but imposing, he had years of experience to his credit.
The family of the deceased hired Mr. Stole, a tall, hefty man with a fierce countenance. Though he was not as experienced as Mr. Turner, he had a fearsome reputation of winning all his cases. He would do everything it took to win, even perverting justice if need arose. They were determined to ensure that the one who killed their husband, father, and brother, was put six feet under in the soonest possible time.
A day after his arrest, the court session to prove him guilty or otherwise was held. Almost all the town was there, for so was the fame of Sarah and John. And as demonstrated by the mob that had gathered outside his home the day before, almost everyone was on John’s side. They did not believe that such a sweet young man could do such a dastardly deed. Furthermore, he was their hero; the one they all looked up to for the definition of true love.
What a showdown indeed. One of the most admired and respected person in the town of Twilight was being tried for murder! What irony! What an exciting turn of events! If he was found guilty, most, if not all, the people of Twilight would stop believing in love and goodness; because if John was not really good, then who was? And if he was found innocent, as most likely was going to be the case, then he would be a hero indeed!
The courtroom was packed from end to end. Ever since its construction a decade ago, this was the largest of audiences it had ever had. In fact, most of the factories in town had to be closed for the day because everyone wanted to attend the session. Being small as it was, most of the people had to stand outside and watch through the windows.
Sarah and her father were seated in the front row, along with Mr. Turner. They were talking to each other in low voices. There was a determined look on Sarah’s face. Never before had she been so determined in her life! On the other bench, not far off from this trio, sat Mr. Stole. He was seated with Mrs. Walter, the wife of the deceased. They were glaring at Sarah with chilly, vulgar expressions. Deep in her heart of hearts, Mrs. Walter was praying that Sarah would experience the loss she was experiencing; that her fate would be her fate too. That is all she ever wanted.
“We’ll win this, right?” she asked Mr. Stole.
“Are you doubting me?” he barked fiercely.
The woman shuddered and shook her head fearfully.
“You won the very moment you chose me.”
The door of the court opened and in walked the judge. There was no little noise and scuffle as everyone got to their feet. He took his seat and hit his hammer on the wooden little board twice to indicate that they take their seats. He was quite young; being about forty; but all the years of hearing cases had aged him, so that he looked sixty. He wearily started the proceedings.
When John was brought in and put into the dock, a great wave of excitement swept through the crowd and they murmured and whispered to each other. John’s eyes were fixed on Sarah. She nodded at him confidently. His glance fell to the handcuffs on his hands and his heart sank.
Everyone turned their heads this way and that, all in an effort to see the look on Sarah’s face. They had heard and knew about the great love that they had for each other, and they were anticipating seeing it in action.
The court session was soon underway. Mr. Stole was first to bring forward some witnesses, most of whom John had never seen before. They told elaborate and well-concocted stories which were so convincing that John almost believed them himself. But, perhaps, the most convincing story was that told by Mr. Greener, a workmate of John.
“Did you hear the said man threaten the deceased—one Mr. Trevor Walter?”
“Yeah,” Mr. Greener said with a nod. He was an odd looking fellow with an unkempt beard and long wavy hair that reached all the way to his shoulders.
‘He’d sooner killed Walter himself,’ John thought to himself.
“Tell us how it happened.”
“Trevor an’ John were having an argument abou’ whether or no’ to use washers on the metal joints we was making for Mr. Sandy—one of our customers. John had a valid point, yeah, but he got so bummed out that he threatened Mr. Walter, saying, ‘I’m going to kill you!’ Yes, I heard him with mine own ears!
“Then after work, I sees him—John—put a pipe into his pocket. There’s a very evil look on his face. I reckon it’s the one he used to hit Trevor on his head. Then I follows him to see what he’s at. As I follows him from a safe distance, I sees him take a corner and plod towards Trevor’s place with that very evil look on his face.”
After he had finished this story, he smirked proudly all over his face.
“I have no further questions for the witness, your honour,” Mr. Stole said and walked back to his seat.
Mr. Turner had his own witnesses. He called forward a Mr. Creg, another work mate of John.
“Tell me what you know about the defendant, Mr. Creg.” He asked.
“John—he’s a very gentle man. He wouldn’t e’en hurt a fly!” Mr. Creg declared in a matter-of-fact way, his eyes burning with sincerity. “E’en the sight of blood makes him sick. Once, there was an accident at the factory—a man cut his finger. E’ery one rushed to see except John. Instead, he went outside till everything was cleaned up.”
Mr. Turner turned and looked at the audience. “Does that sound like a killer to you?”
Everyone shook their heads in disagreement.
“No further questions, your honour.”
He had barely sat down when Mr. Stole jumped to his feet, excitement burning in his eyes. He loved challenges.
“John, did you say that you were going to kill Mr. Walter?”
“Yes, I did,” John admitted with a sober look, “But that was only because I was angry. I did not really mean it. In fact, I actually said, ‘If I were a bad man, I’d kill you off in a hurry.’”
“Hmm,” he chuckled and rubbed his chin. “Why then did you put a pipe in your pocket? You were stealing, right?”
“No, I wanted to finish filing it from home,” he said unperturbedly. “We are allowed to do that sometimes, when the work is pressing.”
Mr. Stole did not look so convinced. “Then why where you seen heading in the direction of Mr. Walter’s house?”
“I went to see him so that I could apologise for what had happened. I don’t like having sour relationships with anyone. I actually e’en had a cup of coffee with him and we made up. His wife was there—you can ask her yourself. After we’d mended out our ways, he escorted me till the bridge and then said he had to go back home to his wife. That is the last I saw of him.”
At this point, Mrs. Walter was called forward.
“Did the said man come to see your husband?”
“Yes,” she said staring at him with a contemptuous glare. “He came, and the three of us sat in the lounge and discussed what had happened. He said he was very sorry and wanted to make up, and he sounded so sincere I actually believed him. But when my husband escorted him out, he never came back. That is when I realized that something was very wrong.” At this moment, she broke into sobs and could not go any further.
“Thank you Mrs. Walter.” Mr. Stole turned and glared at John. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’ve already said everything I could: Mr. Walter turned back and went home, and I went to my own home. When we parted, we were actually in agreement, and there was not the least hint of malice between us.”
So in this way everything was said, with both sides bringing up very good points, so that by the end of the session, it could still not be established whether or not John was guilty. Considering this, the judge decided to adjourn the case till the following day.
The following day, the court house was still packed from end to end, and most of the factories were closed even on this day. In fact, there were more people today, and much more excitement, especially because there were rumours flying around that Stole had come across new evidence that would surely put John in the ground, and Stole did not hesitate to bring forward this new evidence. He brought it forward at earliest opportunity.
“Mr. Diamond,” he said, rubbing his hands together in a diabolical fashion, “Are you still denying that you killed Trevor Walter?”
“Yes,” he replied firmly.
“I see.”
He walked to his brief case and pulled out a clear plastic bag. In the bag was part of the sleeve of the shirt that Trevor had been wearing that night on which he had been killed. Mr. Stole shoved it in front of John’s face.
“This is the shirt Trevor wore on the night on which he was killed. Take a good look at it,” he said. John did so and suddenly went pale, his eyes staring at the cuff of the sleeve in horror.
“What’s written on it?”
“My name, sir,” he said in a trembling voice.
Every one in the court house gasped, including Sarah and Mr. Turner.
“Do you know who wrote it?”
“No.”
“Trevor Walter—a few moments before he died. When you left him for dead, he gathered all that was left in him and scribbled your name on the cuff of his shirt—this cuff—and expired.”
There was a ghastly silence in the court house, with horror reeking from each and every face.
Mr. Turner stepped forward, and to the best of his abilities, tried to refute the credulity of the evidence, saying that no one who was dying could have the time to write down Mr. Diamond’s full name on the sleeve of his shirt. He would have to have a pen, and the very task would be too laborious for a dying person. But Mr. Stole defended himself quite easily. He had had everything thought out well before hand. By the time he was done with his cool presentation, the verdict was certain:
“I find the defendant, John Diamond, guilty of murdering Trevor Walter, and therefore, I sentence him to death by guillotine.”
The whole house went into mourning, except Mr. Stole and Mrs. Walter, who were jubilant to the extreme, and were making faces at Sarah, her father, and Mr. Turner.
John’s face was full of tears. He stared at Sarah and said, almost in a whisper:
“I am sorry… I am sorry.”
Sarah seemed petrified. She was staring on with glassy eyes as if she were in a trance. Then she said, above all the noise, words that sent the room into a dead silence:
“If he has to die, so do I.”
At this the whole court room went into a deafening pandemonium. John, who had seen this coming, gestured pleadingly to his fiancée, and her father joined in as well, but she was adamant.
“Silence!” the judge screamed, sending the sound of his hammer hitting the wood reverberating throughout the court room. A haunting silence followed. Everyone was staring at Sarah with gaping mouths.
“Repeat what you said, young lady?” the judge asked, hoping he had not heard right.
“I said, if he has to die, then I have to die as well,” she repeated with a firmness that sent the few hairs on the judge’s head standing up on end.
“You can’t be serious, young lady,” he said in pure astonishment.
“This man, this man whom you’ve sentenced to death, isn’t just any man,” she said, walking towards him and holding his hand. “He’s my life, my air. All my life he’s kept me going, an’ all my life, we’ve ne’er been apart. From the time we was mere kids of five, we’ve been friends. And during those times, I’ve come to know him better than I e’en know myself. He’s a loving man, and I know that if you kill him, you’ll be killing an innocent man. I know him so well I can almost read his mind, and he’s ne’er lied to me an’ he ne’er will.”
She said this with such emotion and sincerity that there was not a dry tear in the audience. Even callous Mr. Stole was seen rubbing away the tears from the edge of his eyes.
“Yes, this man—he’s my life, my reason for living. If you take him away from me, you are killing me. E’ryone who knows me can testify to this.”
She gestured towards her mother, who nodded her head with utter solemnity. Her face and person were soaked in so many tears that one would think a bucket-full of water had been poured on her.
“So I beg of you!” she cried, dropping to her knees. “Kill me along with him, ’cause either way, I’ll still die!”
John came out of his dock and lifted her to her feet. He enfolded her and she cried on his chest. The scene was so touching that the women in the audience cried loudly and openly along with them.
“Sarah,” John shuddered. “Sarah, let them kill me… but please, live—for my sake. I wouldn’t allow you to die.”
“John,” she said looking up into his face. “You know that I can’t live without you. I’ll rather die with you—right now.”
He knew she was right. He hugged her tighter and bit his lip in pain. With the tears flowing unceasingly, he kissed her head several times.
“Young lady,” the judge began soberly, “I cannot grant your request. It is against the law to execute an innocent person.”
Sarah looked at him with bulging eyes. They suddenly flashed with excitement.
“I am an accomplice,” she said. There were gasps of horror from all corners of the room. “I aided and abetted him in the murder of Trevor Walter!”
John squeezed her hand gently and nodded with a cold look on his face that sent chills through the body of the judge.
“Yes,” he said, “we killed Trevor Walter.”
The judge started to his feet, a terrible confusion was raging through his head. He looked as white as a sheet of paper, and he was shuddering so much that his headpiece almost fell off. Never before had so much of a burden been placed on the lone shoulders of a judge!
“To the guillotine with y’all!” he declared, as if in a fit of insanity.
“Stop!” A thunderous voice boomed. A hefty man ran forward and dropped to his knees before the judge.
“Pardon me my liege,” he said, lifting up his head to reveal the menacing face of Greener. “I can’t allow the woman I love to be killed. I killed Trevor Walter.”