The Dark Corner

The hanged man was found by Daniel Green at 09:34, Tuesday the 24th of February, 1991. 

Daniel took his job as a lorry driver very seriously. He’d never been late for a delivery, and on a good day he’d even make it there early. He’d never had any damaged goods, some customers even swearing that the materials were in even better condition after he delivered them. Taking all this into account, Daniel was proud of his work. 

The 24th of February was no different to any other day. He was taking his usual load for a Monday – an amalgamation of various food products and produce – to the usual supermarket, and he was planning to arrive at 6:00 sharp, as he usually did. He took his usual break at the mountain pass, a helpful shortcut he found that allowed him to bypass the usual Monday rush of early morning traffic on the Motorway. It was actions like these that made him such a prized driver, and the views weren’t anything he would complain about. Rolling hills and fields, a singular farmhouse, whose owner was just rising to tend to the sheep and pigs, all illuminated by a rising sun, and painted with the hues of soft orange and pink that could be seldom found elsewhere.  

He thought often while parked in the lay-by, eating the sandwich that he had prepared the day before, that if this was his last view of Mother Earth, he would find no reason to complain. 

Glancing at the time on his dashboard, right beneath the taped up photo of his wife, he brushed the crumbs off his not unnoticeable belly – he really should listen to Marlene and go on that diet – he decided that he ought to get going. It was 5:35am, just 25 minutes before his projected arrival time. He only had another 20 minutes left in the journey, making today look like a good day. Smiling to himself, he started the engine and slowly pulled back onto the road. 

Driving was something that Daniel found incredibly cathartic. It was a complex activity -as any beginner would tell you- but the well-practised moments were second nature to him, and he considered himself to be well above the standard driver. In fact, he had even been considering applying to become a driving instructor, though he’d have to run the idea by Marlene first of course.  

Having exited the lay-by, he began to gradually pick up speed. There were a few bends on the upcoming road, but nothing that would cause him too much trouble. He took the turn wide, giving him a clear view of the upcoming road, as well as the tree that he usually admired just to the left of the road. The tree was large, with twisted roots just barely coming to an end before the road began. The trunk was knotted and scarred with many carvings from over the years, some still recognisable and others lost to time. Usually, it wore a heavy coat of leaves, but the season had forced the tree to shed its layers. Now its branches seemed to shiver in the wind. The tree put forward an image of immense beauty, the keeper of secrets long forgotten and a barrier to the passage of time. It was the keeper, lock and key to distant memories, and seemed almost ethereal in its beauty. 

It was unfortunate that there was a body strung up there. 

It took Daniel a few seconds to process the sight presented to him, before he slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop right beside the tree; a man strung up like a bauble from a morbid Christmas tree 

In the back of Daniel’s mind, a voice spoke up, telling him to call someone, to get help, to go see if the man was possibly still alive. He did none of those things. Instead he remained in his seat, oddly transfixed by the scene. 

He had never been great in regards to dead bodies. Even the sight of blood made him feel faint, and at his own mother in law’s funeral, he had kept his presence and interactions with her lifeless corpse to an absolute minimum.  

He wondered vaguely why this time was different.  

Why was it that this sack of meat and bones enticed him so? The man’s face was unsettlingly devoid of life. His eyes were just barely open, their milky whites showing in place of pupils. His mouth, completely clean shaven, sagged to the left, exposing his stained teeth, which were ever so slightly parted, revealing the useless tongue lolling in place. His hair was meticulously groomed and slicked back, clearly something the man had prided himself on. And yet a single black hair had fallen out of place, a tear through an otherwise impeccable portrait. His clothes were impressive, a fine tailored suit lacking any creases, with the top shirt button undone to make room for the rope necklace pulling uncomfortably at his throat.  

But the shoes were what Daniel found most intriguing. More specifically the absence of them. The man had nothing on his feet, and yet no shoes or socks were easily seen in the general vicinity. With no heart to pump the blood around the body, it had instead flowed down the legs, and pooled at the feet. The toes were swollen to a freakish degree, almost looking as if they could pop at any second. The ankles were badly swollen too, giving the man a very bottom-heavy appearance. Accompanying the swelling was a combination of maroons and deep purples, which made it frighteningly difficult to discern if the feet were even human.  

He knew not how long he remained there, studying the morbid image. In truth he could not bring himself to care. What meaning did time have in the presence of this otherworldly scene? 

And so he stared. 

And admired.  

After some more time had slipped by, he vaguely registered the ringing of his cab phone. He picked it up slowly, never taking his eyes off the corpse, and put his ear to the receiver. The call was from the supermarket he was due to deliver to. The woman on the other end told him that they had been forced not to open that day due to a missing delivery, and she had half a mind to sue him for every penny he had if he couldn’t give her a good excuse.  

He hung up on her without answering. Her worries seemed trivial compared to what occupied his thoughts. Now that the phone was in his hand, he supposed he ought to call the emergency services. He dialled the number without much haste and put the phone to his ear. While he knew he was doing the right thing, something about the body drew him in, almost seeming to speak to him. If only he could make out the words. Another voice from the depths of his mind rose up, and, sounding very different from the one that had suggested he call the emergency services, reminded him of what a shame it would be to ruin the man’s view of the boundless countryside. The very same countryside that Daniel himself had been admiring a few minutes earlier.  

Daniel called for an ambulance to pick up the body at 9:34 am, over three hours from when he’d originally discovered it. The police questioned him, obviously believing he had some part in the man’s death, but they eventually concluded that he had simply been a passerby, an innocent citizen that had been unfortunate enough to witness the tragic scene. With some investigation, it was found that the man’s name was Carl Donnelly, a financial advisor for several corporations. His family was contacted to verify the body. It turned out that he had been on a business trip, travelling to a nearby city to strike a deal for an employer. There seemed to be no motive for his suicide, at least not one that could be uncovered without an extensive catalogue of the man’s thoughts prior to the hanging.  

Two peculiar things stood out on the scene. The first was a lack of any vehicle nearby. Daniel had given a statement to the police and had stated that no cars, trucks or anything of that sort had passed him before or after his discovery of the body. His word was all they had to go off, but after an extensive search of his truck and a background check, they seemed more accepting of it. Seemingly, if the man had killed himself, he would have had to walk for several hours on the country lane, barefoot with the rope in hand. And that led to the other unexplained detail; the lack of any stool or table of any kind to stand on to secure the rope. As it was, he would have had to climb the tree and tie the rope, before lowering himself into the noose, a feat which would put a large number of Olympic gymnasts to shame. These two problems circled the case, acting as gusts of wind, both blowing on a pebble balanced along a razor thin edge, threatening to turn the final decree from a suicide to a lynching. 

However, there was no need for Daniel’s input at this stage. After being cleared by the station, Daniel was released at 13:45 pm that day, with orders from his boss to take the rest of the day off. They were going to handle the legal problems with the supermarket, letting him take some time at home to recover. They assumed the scene had shocked Daniel and didn’t want to risk him possibly causing an accident on the job. A taxi was hired for him, and Daniel made no complaints. In fact, he said very little throughout the whole ordeal, only speaking when spoken to and keeping the details to a minimum. The paramedics chalked it up to shock. 

He wasn’t sure if shock was the right word for it. Daniel had felt shock before, back when he had been in a collision during his teenage years. Shock was a sensation that drowned out everything else, a tidal wave that submerged all the senses in muddy water. Thoughts are hard to form and most brain power just goes into processing what has happened. Daniel didn’t feel anything like that. He felt pensive. He found himself studying and analysing his memories rather than trying to process them. The hanged man haunted the darkest crevices of his mind, and yet, he felt no desire to share his experience, no desperate need to voice the many thoughts swirling around his head.  

When he returned home, he told Marlene what had happened. He figured his wife ought to know why he was home early, even if he saw no particular reason to inform her. She was horrified, and absolutely speechless when he described the scene to her. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. After all, he’d kept his most interesting ideas about the body to himself, like how there had been no stool for the man to kick away before his throat was caught and the life squeezed slowly from his lungs. Or why the man was missing his shoes. Or, more worryingly how the bloated feet had intrigued him, how the lolling of the man’s head fascinated him, and how the way the rope around the neck had enticed him.  He decided to keep these thoughts to himself, seeing as his wife was already stressed enough. It was a strange feeling. He knew he ought to be feeling something like Marlene was, distressed and somewhat disturbed, but he simply couldn’t. It was like a small secret between him and the only other thing that had been there, the tree. 

It was the keeper, lock and key. 

That night marked the beginning of a new routine for his brain. Each time his head hit the pillow he would have the same dream. He’d come into awareness standing in the middle of the road, facing the tree. There was a man standing beside the tree, in a fine tailored suit and noticeably absent footwear. He had no head, there was simply a ball of light in its place. That exact detail switched from night to night, sometimes it was a lightbulb, sometimes a shining disco ball, but always shining as bright as the sun. It gave the man a sense of importance and authority, as if the whole world existed to fulfil his desires. He never moved, but appeared to float up to the awaiting noose, which slid over his head without any resistance. He remained there, floating, the rope awaiting the sudden drop and weight to strain against. Daniel waited with bated breath, ready for gravity to take hold, so maybe he could witness the moment of death, the crossing of the man from one plane to another.   

Daniel always woke before the body fell and felt disappointed every time. There was a burning desire inside him. A longing. He thirsted for answers, and could never understand why. 

Even several days after the fact, Daniel’s vivid description of the body was unsettling to Marlene. She demanded he book a therapy session, and he refused. A few months of incessant badgering later, and he gave up and agreed.  

Daniel had nothing against therapy, he just didn’t think it was for him. People who were a danger to others needed therapy, or people who were suicidal. He was neither. He had briefly considered if he was the latter over the months, but quickly decided against it. He had no desire to take his own life, he was simply enthralled by the man who had. But if he didn’t hate therapy, why did the woman’s unending stream of useless questions infuriate him so?  

Why do you feel that way? Is there any chance you’re misinterpreting your emotions? Do you understand why this has a negative effect on you? You aren’t to blame for that man’s decision, there was quite literally nothing you could have done to change what happened. 

She knew nothing.  

Every second she talked he wanted to scream at her to stop. I don’t care about what I’m feeling, and I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing if I had the chance! Eventually he had stopped talking at their sessions. He still went, but only so Marlene would shut up about it. Even with the therapy their marriage had grown increasingly strained over the year since the day of the hanged man. At first, she was willing to give him space, to “cope” as she saw it. But as he remained distant, she tried to connect with him, tried to understand what happened and why he was acting the way he was. He responded by pushing her further away. He had grown accustomed to his space and saw no reason to change the matter. And her unrelenting plight to find out more about the hanged man was consistently met with failure. After all, that was a secret, between him and the tree. 

It was the keeper, lock and key. 

Her discovery about his lack of activity in therapy was the final nail in the coffin, and she decided she needed a break. She packed up her things and moved in with one of her friends. She assured him it was only temporary, but he didn’t particularly care. As long as she would stop bothering him. His friends came by from time to time, to “make sure he was coping well”. They would often leave quickly, feeling uncomfortable at his unresponsiveness. He couldn’t find any reason to care. The only thing he could seem to find solace in was his continued lorry deliveries, though he wasn’t nearly as efficient as before. He took detours, hoping for something to strike him like the hanged man had. Maybe he was hoping to see the hanged man again in the flesh, as he dreamed of every night. He never found anything, and his deliveries always required his attention long before he was ready to give it. He hadn’t received an order from the supermarket he used to deliver to on Mondays since the incident, though that was to be expected. They had threatened to squeeze him for every penny he was worth.  

But he still longed for the visage of the man swinging gently in the breeze, unaffected by the constraints of society and life, and the mystery of the shoes and car. There was a piece missing, some secret concealed by the tree that observed all and spoke nothing. 

It was the keeper, lock and key. 

Nearly 18 months after the 24th of February 1982, Daniel Green made a decision. He set out on his old Monday route, with nothing in his lorry but a stool and 6 feet of coiled rope. Suicide was not his intention, but he knew how it would seem. So he didn’t mention this impromptu trip to anyone, not even his best friend David, who was due to check up on him that day. He simply wished to understand the hanged man. Why was he able to tunnel his way into Daniel’s mind like some unbidden parasite? And why was the image of a corpse hanging over a cliff side so enticing to him?  

He parked in the nearby lay-by and got out of his truck, grabbing the rope and stool as he left. It was the early hours of the morning, the sunrise just a few minutes away. The sky was not yet painted with the flourishes of gold and pink laced among the ghastly clouds that accompanied the beginning of the day. He walked the last couple hundred metres, anticipating bend up ahead, the one he knew would reveal all he so hungered for. Just a few more steps… 

There was no fanfare. No drums or climactic music. The tree stood alone, noticeably absent of any additional package. Something still felt off, and clearly simply seeing the tree hadn’t fixed this for Daniel. But he was prepared for this inevitability. Hence why he had the rope and stool. The last few paces he held his breath in anticipation knowing in the deepest crevices of his mind that what he was about to do was incredibly wrong, but the voice at the forefront of his mind egged him on, and who was he to ignore its advice? He removed his shoes and set them by the tree roots. Looking closely, the roots looked strikingly similar to hands, grabbing on to the side of the road, pulling something ever closer. And studying the trunk revealed that the many knots he had seen before were actually only one, around his eye level and roughly the size of his fist. And still he didn’t feel complete. There was still one last piece missing.  

He got up on the stool and tied a noose around the tree branch. It took him a few tries but eventually he got it. Looking at the noose he thought it would finally click, but still nothing. That was fine, he still had one step left. He let the noose fall around his neck and turned to face the cliff side. He still had no intentions of actually going through with hanging himself, but it seemed like the best way to enter the mind of the hanged man. But nothing. No great realisation. Just the same cold indifference. Disappointed, he began removing the noose from his neck, already regretting the long journey out. Then the sun began to rise, and all other thoughts left his mind.  

It was beautiful. Those vibrant hues of orange, filtered in with the aggressive red tint. The clouds parted to make way for the behemoth of a sun crawling over the horizon like an angel ascending to the heavens. The light spilled across the countryside, illuminating fields upon fields, signalling the dawn over a new day. Daniel took it all in, enthralled by the simple wonder around him. Perhaps this was what the hanged man was hiding, this incredible appreciation and love for what was in front of him. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful secret?  

In his ear, a voice whispered, barely audible and yet definitely there. 

I am the keeper, lock and key.  

Daniel smiled lazily, finally understanding the meaning behind the words. His mouth opened, and words came spilling out before he could think twice. 

“If this was my last view of Mother Earth,” he said to the sun, rising boldly over the horizon, “I wouldn’t be able to find any complaints.” 

His bare feet shifted on the stool. 

*** 

The hanged man was found by Aurthur Maximilian at 10:32, Saturday the 17th of July, 1992. 

Aurthur was a proud family man. His work in accounting was dull and uninspiring, so he took great joy in playing with his two daughters whenever he got the chance. Their games varied, from pretend tea parties to great fantasy battles. His wife, Jackie, understood how much he loved their children, and often joined in their games, even if she wasn’t as immersed in their worlds as he was. That meant that she got worried if he wasn’t home from work on time, because he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his time with their girls. As his phone buzzed repeatedly in his pocket, Authur glanced at the number, recognising it as his wife’s. Checking the time on his car’s dashboard, he realised he was well over four hours late. Jackie knew that he wouldn’t let anything get in between his time with the girls, so she probably was worried when he wasn’t on time. He wouldn’t be surprised if she thought he’d been in a crash.  

Oh well. The hanged man was far more interesting anyway.  

He had started driving through the mountain pass nearly six months previously, after learning it could shave nearly twenty minutes off his drive home. Honestly he couldn’t believe he hadn’t started using it sooner. The views were always scenic and beautiful, they took his breath away every time without fail. And now a limp sack of meat pierced that perfect vision, but somehow didn’t detract from it. 

The man had no shoes on, and there didn’t seem to be anything that he used to kick away to hang himself, nor was there any car in sight. The lack of shoes made the pooling of blood at the feet extremely obvious, and their bloated appearance made him think it was unlikely that the shoes would have stayed together even if he was wearing them. He was a portly man, and his belly sagged, gravity fighting the tension in the string that kept him upright. His clothes were nothing special, just a red flannel shirt, blue jacket and some jeans. There was a slight stench in the air, telling Aurthur that the body had begun to decompose. If he had to guess, he’d say it had probably been up there for about a day, maybe more. 

He sighed and reached for his still buzzing phone. He probably ought to call emergency services. He was reluctant, because he knew they would take the body down from its glorious perch. Even still, he knew what the right thing to do was. Besides, he could admire the body some more before they got there. 

*** 

As the police ushered Aurthur into their cruiser for questioning, he took one last glance back at the hanged man. An ambulance and its crew had arrived and were in the process of cutting the rope. The man’s head lolled from side to side, and Authur caught a glimpse of the man’s face, meeting his eyes. The corpse had no expression, but Authur could swear he saw a smile on the man’s face before the car’s door was closed.  

On the drive, Authur felt enraptured by the smile, wondering what could have caused such a display of joy in a dead man’s eyes.  

A small voice from the deepest crevices of his mind sought to give him answers. 

Tadhg Walsh is a 5th year student from Dublin with an interest in swimming and reading. Some of his favourite books include those written by HP Lovecraft, and serve as a large inspiration for his own writing.