A Nice Day for a Walk


                I thought it would be nice to go for a walk. It was a cool summer day. A bit overcast, with occasional showers. Most sensible people were at home, out of the rain. I headed to the local park to take the nature trail, prepared to see the usual wildlife. Deer grazing in the woods, chipmunks scurrying across the path, the songs of the birds in the treetops. A relaxing stroll. Or so I thought.

                I was toting my black umbrella as I meandered toward the opening of the trail, while the few who had braved the occasional downpours rushed to their cars. It was barely sprinkling. Less people to interrupt. I was fine with that.

                The canopy overhead kept most of the rain at bay. The pitter-patter of drops on the leaves only served to enhance the serenity of the scene. Until I saw them. The shady figures I encountered as I was about two miles into the woods. They were burying something. I was just far enough away that I couldn’t make out what it was, but close enough to tell that’s what they were doing. Then he noticed me. He got the others’ attention and pointed at me. The four of them looked up. Then rushed at me.

                I tried to escape. They were just too fast. We had had the same idea, that the weather would keep the other people away. They attacked me. I remember being held and hit. A couple of blows to the body, then another to the head. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. They were laughing as they walked away, joking about how they had just beaten “that little punk” to death. Bastards must have dropped me in a mud pit. It was heavy, and I could feel the suction as I tried to pull myself to my feet. As I rose, I felt a rage build within me. I felt as though a surge of electricity was coursing through my veins. I called out to my assailants. They stopped dead in their tracks and slowly turned. I had never seen such fear in anyone’s eyes. I guess they could tell I was pissed.

                Before I knew it, I had become the attacker. I could feel the bones crunch as I struck. I had never moved so fast. I dispatched them with astonishing speed. Once they were lying, broken and battered, in the dirt, I realized something. I wasn’t muddy. I turned to where I had risen from. And there I was. My limp corpse remained where they dropped it. The struggle I felt getting up was my soul separating from my physical body. I now continue to walk these trails after having avenged my own murder. That was 83 years ago last Tuesday…

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