Fascination of the Noose

The noose sways slightly in a draught, hanging down from a beam.  Beneath it is a tall stool with two steps leading up to it.  Heart pounding I approach it. I am not suicidal.  I do not seek death.  Yet I have placed a beam across roof rafters with the rope hanging down through a the loft-opening.  I have made the noose and fixed it to the beam, measuring its length carefully.  On the stool are placed a blindfold, a strap and handcuffs.  I have felt a compulsion to do this, even though I do not wish to end my life this way.  The noose holds a fascination for me.

I come out of the bathroom, dressed in just a nightshirt.  The steps are in front of me, a few paces down the hallway.  The noose is there, swaying slightly, softly calling.  I feel my heart start to race as I place a foot on the first step.  Two more steps and the rope is brushing my face as I stand on the top of the stool.  I have gauged the height exactly.  If I incline my head forward, looking down to the floor  I can feel the noose as it brushes past my ears on either side.  I can feel the base rest lightly against my throat.   My head, bowed, is in the noose.  My hands reach up to the knot.  I withdraw my head from the noose and step backwards down the steps again.  

My heart races and I am in a cold sweat as I put the stool away.  I am frightened by how easily I succumbed to the lure of that noose.  Next time I might go too far.  I find the step-ladder and climb it, getting into the loft void and undo the rope from the beam.  I drop the noose to the floor.  Climbing back down I replace the ceiling hatch.  I carefully undo the noose I had made, coil the rope and put it into a bag along with the strap and the handcuffs.  I will dispose of them tomorrow.  Still shaken I go to bed.  Some games are really just too dangerous to play, I tell myself as I drift off to sleep.

Early next morning I put the bag containg the rope into the rubbish bins outside which were emptied shortly afterwards by the refuse collection lorries.  I couldn't help looking up at the ceiling panel when I came back in and laughed at myself for being so foolish as to check.  The day went by without incident. I was busy with sundry household chores.  I put thoughts of ropes, nooses and silly games with them out of my mind.  After a pleasant supper I run a bath and relax in it.  After i have dried and put on my nightshirt I step out of the bathroom....and freeze.  In front of me is the stool with the steps and hanging down through the ceiling hatch is a noose.  

I feel a moment of panic and look around wildly.  But there is no-one else in the flat.  I force myself to tear my gaze away from the noose and I go into the kitchen.  The stool is where I put it back the day before.  I take several deep breaths to calm myself.  I notice a handcuff key lying on the kitchen worktop.  It must have fallen out of the bag when I disposed of everything this morning.  I pick it up, glad of the feel of cold metal against my fingers, glad of the assurance that I am awake.  I tell myself that I was imagining things.  I go back out into the hallway to prove to myself there is nothing there, chiding myself for being so foolish.

My body is still swinging back and forward from when the stool was pulled out from under me.  I can hear the slight chink of metal as my arms struggle feebly against the cuffs.  A faint gurgling, rasping sound comes from me as I try vainly to breathe.  The rope creaks rhythmically against the beam as I sway in the noose.  I move forward and undo the strap that holds my ankles together.  My legs are trembling and twitching as I free them.  When I take the handcuffs off my arms drop limply to each side.  I have to stand on tiptoe to reach up and undo the blindfold and as it comes off my body jerks in a final convulsion and then hangs limp  and quiet.

I wake up in a cold sweat.  This time it was a dream.  This time.  I really should throw that rope away.  I will do it tomorrow.