No Slack for the Hanged Man

Author’s Note: This is the Fourth part of a series about Farren’s journey through a limbo world where everyone is trying to reach the peak of a mountain but have a rope tied to their ankle. Catch up by reading Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

After Farren split paths with Teekola, he spent months traveling through the forest. He lost sight of the mountain the same day that his rope’s path departed from Teekola’s. Farren wandered lonely through the forest, rolling balls of rope up along the way. He was averaging about one every time the moon turned.

As he traveled in this strange world, he noticed that he never got cold or hungry. If he scraped himself up, he would feel pain, but it would quickly heal without getting infected. Exhaustion came after a long day, but he always woke up feeling refreshed despite sleeping on a bed of rope or pebbles.

As he walked, he realized that while this world wasn’t paradise it had a lot of things going for it. However, he was one of the few people who considered it that way.

He passed many people on his month-long journey through the forest. Some shared their theories about the world, how they were in the outer most circle of hell based on some holy text they remembered. Farren’s memory was slow to come back to him, and the fact that not many holy books came to mind during these conversations caused him to conclude that he wasn’t a very religious man in his last life. A few people were eager to point out that was likely the reason he was here. But Farren had a different theory.

As Farren started his fifth ball of rope, he came across something startling. He was coiling up his rope wrapping it in the meditative pattern that he had gotten used to during his time on this world. He looked up to see where it was taking him and right above the path of his rope dangling from the branch of a tree was a hanged man.

Farren had never seen a dead person in this world, and if he had seen one in his past life, he didn’t remember it. Before spotting the man, he didn’t know someone could die in this world.

But sure enough, Farren could follow the rope from the man’s ankle up the tree around the branch and looped around the man’s neck. His face was purple, and the rest of the body was drained of color. The man hadn’t been hanging there long enough to start decomposing, and Farren was grateful for that.

Not knowing what the procedure was for this Farren decided to act. The man deserved to be buried for posterity and at least to save the next traveler from running across the man, especially after he started decomposing.

Farren climbed up the tree using a little bit of his slack. He quickly uncovered why the man had likely done it; there was no slack in the man’s rope. His rock was stuck somewhere and presumably had been for a while.

Farren reached out to grab the dead man and found that his skin was cold to the touch. The chill made him let go, and the hanged man swung from the treen. Farren was uncomfortable trying to take the man down, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He took a deep breath and started again.

Soon getting the noose off of the man’s neck became a challenge. Pulling the body up by the line wouldn’t loosen the knot. Additionally, since there was no slack in the cord, there was no way to lower the body.

Over the past few months, Farren had gotten good at manipulating his rope and learning to tie useful knots with them. Some he learned from travelers others he made up himself. Instead, Farren used his rope to build a harness under the man’s arms so he could remove the noose and ease him down to the ground gracefully.

After the man was off of the tree and laying on the ground, Farren started digging a hole. It was a slow process since he didn’t have any tools and he had to make do with a flat rock and hope for soft ground.

As he dug, Farren started wondering about how to handle the man’s rope and if the line coming out of the ground would cause problems. He figured it would be a headstone of sorts. As Farren thought through his plan, he was startled by a sudden gasp of air.

Farren turned on his heels to face the strange sound. The formerly hanged man’s face was no longer purple from suffocation. The man was alive and looking around.

The man sat up from where he was laying and brushed the dirt off his shoulders. He had a dark black bruise around his neck. His hair was white, and he had a short beard. He looked around and immediately saw Farren standing near the shallow hole with a flat rock in his hand.

“Oh what the shit?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Farren jumped in place putting the dirt covered rock in his hand between him and the man. Partway in defense and part way in a peace offering. His back foot slipped into his hole, and he lost his balance falling to the ground clumsily.

“Chill out,” the man said in a strained less rusty voice. He started massaging his bruised neck and got up from the ground.

Farren was flailing in the hole he had built, and he quickly realized that it was neither deep enough nor long enough for him or any grown man.

The previously dead man walked up to him and stuck a hand out to help. “Come on, get out of there.”

Farren took the man’s hand, it was still cold, but it wasn’t as drained of color as it had previously been. Once he was on his feet, he said, “You were,” then he vaguely gestured at the limb where he found the man hanging. “You were dead.”

The man leaned against the same tree he had been hanging from and lowered himself to the ground taking a seat with his knees pointed to the air. “Well, sort of.”

Farren looked at the man bewildered and not eager to sit and let his guard down around a reanimated corpse.

“You can’t really die around here. If you haven’t figured that out yet well, then I’m happy to inform you of this dreadful news.”

“But you were dead.”

“Sort of dead. It’s a lot like being dead except if I’m not actively being suffocated, then I’m alive.” He made a gesture at his current state. “I’m sure you thought you were doing me a favor taking me down and all but now I have to go through the work of getting myself back up there.” He looked up at the branch he had been hanging from like a tired man looks longingly at any soft or flat surface.

“Sorry?” Farren said unsure about the sincerity in his apology.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said cracking a grin. “Every once in a while someone will do it. Usually, they break my ankles letting me down, and I can’t walk for a day or two. So thanks for being gentle with me.” He looked around the forest and noticed the balls of rope. The man’s eyes went wide with shock at the sight of that much rope. “Those yours?” he asked getting up.

Farren nodded still confused by the situation and the change in subject.

The previously dead man looked at the balls of rope and walked towards them. He had the look of an addict on the edge of getting his fix. He reached out to feel them, but the rope at his ankle stopped him from moving forward. The tug pulled him out of his trance, and he turned back to Farren. “How did you get that much slack? That looks like enough to at least get you to the mountain if not further.”

“It’s exactly enough to get me to the base of the mountain.”

The man’s eyes went wide. “Then what the hell are you doing wasting your time around here with me?”

Farren explained why he was accumulating slack and heading away from the mountain. When he was all done the man only shook his head in confusion or disgust, Farren couldn’t tell which.

“You know how long it’s been since I had slack?”

“No.”

“Years. You no know how I know it’s been years?”

“No,” Farren repeated.

“Because every morning I wake up at sunrise able to breathe then quickly choke to death from the rope. I’ve been doing that for years now.”

Now it was Farren turn to make his eyes wide with shock.

The man continued, “Before that, I was stuck here tugging against my rope. I don’t know what it’s stuck on but it isn’t getting free, and no one else has freed it yet.” He gave it a hard tug for emphasis. “For all I know it’s hanging around a tree branch like me on the other end of this thing.” He kicked his leg tugging lightly at the rope.

“I pulled on it for years, the seasons changed around me, and I kept pulling. I refused to give up. Then one day I finally started wondering what the point of it all was. A few weeks later I gave up. Decided I might as well try being dead for a bit.” He shrugged at this last statement. “It’s not the worst thing, the days go by quicker, but it’s an eternity either way.” He started walking towards his tree while picking the little slack he had and tying a knot in it.

“Have you ever considered following your rope and finding the end of your rock?” Farren asked after the man finished tying the noose.

“Before today, no. But after seeing you, I’ve considered it, but it’s not worth it. You’re moving away from the goal. And while I’m not making progress towards the mountain like some, at least, I’m not losing ground like you.” He threw his rope over the branch and tugged at it to make sure it would hold his weight.

Farren rubbed the back of his hand trying to think of something he could say to convince the man not to hang himself again. All that came to mind was, “If I see your rock I’ll try to free it up.”

“Thanks, kid,” He responded as he began to climb up to his branch. “But don’t worry too much about it. I’d just get it stuck on something else later.”

Farren frowned and looked up at the man perched on the tree branch not knowing what to say.

The hanged man did him a favor and broke the silence. “If you don’t mind moving on, I have some stuff to take care of,” he said while moving his fingers in a dusting motion to indicate that Farren should start walking away from the tree.

The last thing Farren saw as he rolled his balls of slack along was the man crown himself with his noose.

Author’s Note: This is the third part of a series about Farren’s journey through a limbo world where everyone is trying to reach the peak of a mountain but have a rock tied to their ankle. Read the next part here: