"....for these crimes, Applejack, you are to be hung by the neck, until you are dead, dead, dead."
The blonde girl standing on the platform said nothing. She tilted her head back and gazed up at the midday sun burning her skin, blinking under the brim of her Stetson. She licked dry, cracked lips, wriggled her hands - tightly bound together with rough rope, so tightly they cut into her white flesh - and shifted her weight from one boot to the other.
"Any last words?"
The crowd around the platform surged closer, straining to hear. They were all wearing their Sunday best, the men in fine suits, leather boots, wide hats, the ladies in beautifully tailored dresses of lace and silk, dripping with pearls, gems, and gold. The town Sheriff strutted about on the gallows as he spoke to the girl, his bright star-shaped medal winking in the sun.
"Well?" he barked at her.
Applejack lowered her head, tilting her neck a little, as if the heavy rope about her neck chafed. She squinted at the crowd.
"It's mighty hot out today, mister."
The crowd roared. A stone whizzed past Applejack's cheek. She did not even so much as flinch.
The sheriff grabbed the wooden lever next to her and pulled. A trapdoor beneath Applejack's boots flung wide.
She tumbled through, the rope snapping taut, to the gasps and cries of the crowd. Her brown Stetson hat flew off of her long blonde hair. There was an awful, wet snap, and Applejack's neck twisted at a vicious angle. Her feet kicked and swung wildly.
Each second ground on in dead silence. Applejack's body stilled. A sigh went through the crowd, as if they'd been holding in a collective breath.
The sheriff pulled free a long, sharp silver Bowie knife and began sawing the rope binding Applejack's neck with swift, sure strokes, cutting it free from the gallows. The crowd watched him, the men and women staring with glassy, shocked eyes.
Applejack's body fell bonelessly to the ground, face-first, as still and motionless as a ragdoll.
The crowd edged a little closer, some braver ones at the fore-front leaning close to get a good look at the convict.
Then Applejack's leg kicked weakly. Then her other.
The knife fell from the sheriff's shaking hands.
Applejack jerked her head, setting it firmly back into place with a crack. Slowly, as if each movement were agony, she settled back on her knees, raising her body upward.
Thin drips of red blood ran down her lip, cheek, and forehead from where she'd struck the ground face-first.
Her eyes snapped open, bright green irises glittering like hellfire. She cleared her throat and spat, thick, bloody red saliva.
----