Limbs dark and cold thaw in the spring air, lifeblood stored in my subterranean network pushes towards the sky; so sweet and abundant that I can spare a drop or two for you.
In the new warmth, tiny buds form and push outward, filling the canopy and blotting out the sun from the path below.
Branches teaming with life, caterpillars feed on the leaves that breathe in carbon and exhale oxygen; beetles and weevils prefer the dark spaces hidden beneath my bark; robins, woodpeckers and jays nest and rest and feast and hide within my cover; and squirrels burrow in the hollow recesses of my long dead core.
Hubert was completely unaware of the path he was headed for as he left his shift at the factory early and headed home.
Tired and longing for his bed he walked into the room to find his precious Clarice wearing his Stetson and riding his best friend and neighbour, Carter.
Driving down Route 66 Hubert couldn’t recall much beyond the feeling of adrenaline and visceral emotions that had swelled within him and the blood soaked sheet and lifeless bodies of his wife and friend awaiting him when he awoke from the blackout rage.
In glowing neon letters, the Church of the Holy Redeemer sign flashed on the road ahead; it read “Redemption is just a phone call away, all it takes a leap of faith.”
Twenty-six years had passed since the grizzly murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Gold.
Every morning James awoke with one goal in mind; he would capture those responsible for this heinous act. Today was no different, he thought as he lay in his bed, the murderer had to be down at the Beverly Hills Golf & Country Club.
He was certain of it, plus a round of golf and a pop or two sounded like a good way to review the years of evidence amassed in his head. Finally dragging his ass out of bed he headed to the kitchen where he’d ingest his daily dose of Orenthal ℞ washed down with a glass of Tropicana OJ.
Completely unaware that something miraculous was about to happen, the Juice would turn to his left and solve the murders; staring back, the killer would ‘once again‘ reveal himself in the mirrored doors of the hall closet.