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lynch

let her

  • 3RD OF MARCH, 1893
    Interview transcript
    Interviewer: Philip Gastel
    Interviewee: Arthur Callister John Doe

    Gastel seems at ease as he takes a seat opposite of Callister Doe. He brings out a leather bound journal before lighting a cigarette. He offers one to Callister Doe, who declines.

    Gastel: It is good to finally meet you, mister Callister Doe. My employer has spoken highly of you. I would shake your hands, had you not been cuffed to the table. It is for your safety as well as mine, I assure you.

    Callister Doe blinks but doesn't reply. The man is handcuffed to the table. Even under the gas lamp, he looks like a hardened man.

    Gastel: Right! Straight to business then. Why don't you start at the beginning? You found her, didn't you? Tell me about that. And before you even start; yes, I have read your report. Still, humor me. For old time's sake.


    19TH OF DECEMBER, 1892
    Unlined paper, 3x5 in

    I tried to draw the willow tree. It stands so vividly in my mind. She sat underneath it. Perhaps she was waiting. The romantic in me always wanted to say she waited for me, though I know that to be false.

    I asked her name.

    "Lynch," she said.

    "Lynch?" I echoed back at her.

    "Lynch," she confirmed.


    10TH OF NOVEMBER, 1892
    Unlined paper, 3x5 in

    I never considered myself the sentimental type. In this line of business that gets you killed. Now I keep thinking about her. I wrote her a letter three weeks ago when I left. I think she was asleep. I don't remember. She was lying in the bed. I had been with her for almost three months and she was every bit as bad as people had said.

    We didn't trust each other. I saw her put a knife under her pillow one night. I didn't blame her - I kept a loaded revolver under the bed.


    15TH OF NOVEMBER, 1892
    Unlined paper, 3x5 in

    I am haunted by her. I see out of the corner of my eye and when she isn't there, she will be in front of me. When I cooked my dinner, I saw her on the other side of the campfire. She looked at me with indifference. I wanted to reach through the fire and touch her. I knew she wasn't real. Lynch was far away from here, from me. I wish she wasn't.


    5TH OF OCTOBER, 1892
    Unlined paper, 3x5 in

    Lynch showed me the moon yesterday. I, a grown man, have of course seen the moon before and I realize how silly I sound when word is put to paper. Yet it is the only way I can describe it.