The judge placed a black cloth upon his head. The words hanged, neck and dead echoed around the dingy courthouse. Famed and feared was he for his draconian sentences.
Afront the grey wooden gallows stood a jeering throng. The chaplain uttered words of divine forgiveness as the masked executioner tightened his noose. With a stamp of the Mayor’s boot, the rapscallion was no more.
Or maybe not, for that evening, in an alley, a young lad encountered a person of remarkable likeness, his neck sorely bruised. The boy’s ne’er been seen since.
Forevermore the small-town folk will be affeared lest the monster return.