The foot of the hill
The morning sun rises from behind the shady hill warming the village with a solemn hymn, everyone has gone out of the town leaving dryness and darkness all around; the dogs are running and barking at the cars as they scramble through the deserted street creating a brawl in the middle of the town.
The cold wind is blowing in, and the temperature began to sing the black spiritual hymn and the bones of slaves are rattling in the ground; the old railroads have come alive with the working men laying tracks on the line. You can hear them singing from afar and the slave owners lashes echoing from within.
The cold spell had just broken loose melting the snow on top of the solar panel roof. Nature has taken the village for a ride strapping the unpredictable by their side and the watchful eyes on top of the tree has burnt out all its energy; the building is about to collapse, and destiny will break its burdensome back.
A strange phenomenon has entered the town pulling up old tile that is laid beneath the spotless ground and the tomb that was built decades ago was exhumed to match the corps from secret show, the evidence was buried there twenty odd years ago will soon implode a well-kept secret.
Nobody knew where the body went, they all believe the myth that it was ascended into the blissful heavens, giving the prosecutor a well bake irony and a twist that alarmed the jury and everybody.
Somebody will go on death row for using the knife to cut the strangers throat and bury it in the casket with the diseased to discard the evidence that was so deep.
They said that the knife fell in the bottom of the well but was never found when the well was drained and speculation keep running around, how the diseased spirit is still wandering in the bushes and the accused is still warming his hands and feet chained with murder in the first degree.
They walked slowly around the floor with arms fold and hands thrown in air waiting for the coffin to come up from the ground, the mystery will soon unwind, and the city meet with the divine.
They gather at the foot of the hill when the car ran off the road and fell in the bushes. Everything was still and just the sound of the engine could be heard running in the bushes.
And so, the tales of two murders were unfold, one outdoor and one indoor and the exhume casket send everyone scattering all over the floor when the murder weapon fell from the wooden box and reveal the long-kept murder secret buried beneath the ground next to the foot of the hill.
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2024
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