Welcome Dear Readers! You’ll have to excuse the way I look (if you could see me). I’ve been cleaning out the blog. Vacuuming up all the blogwebs and sorting through my old posts.
Anyway here’s a little murder story that fell out. It’s not funny, but I kind of like it anyway.
I awoke last night with memories of Cottonwood dampening my pillow. And though I lay there awake, I refused to go further down those corridors of thought — one room leading to another and another. The past is best left unruffled by middle night winds of regret and sorrow.
I looked over at Miles who lay peacefully next to me sleeping his untroubled sleep. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I thought I might like to take his pillow, hold it over his face and suffocate him –so he could always stay just as he was forever and ever.
But what was I thinking! Killing Miles? And like that? I almost laughed out loud! I would never kill Miles like that. Never! That would be much too good for him.
I allowed my mind to drift to the cottage in Cottonwood; just the cottage. The weeping willow in the front yard, the line of pink roses along the split-rail fence and the sound footsteps made on the crooked path of pebbles that led to the front door. But then, Victoria started to creep into my mind and I pushed her out and slammed the door.
After that, I allowed myself to imagine the lake at Cottonwood, as I remembered it best, shining in the morning sunlight. How it looked before I knew about Victoria. But I wouldn’t let my mind wander down the path to the water’s edge. I only stayed to look at it from the safety at the top of the crest.
I fell asleep after that and when I awoke, Miles was gone. I knew where. Victoria’s flight was coming in early, and then they were leaving for Cottonwood. Miles didn’t know I knew. He thinks he got the best of me but he hasn’t. He doesn’t know yet about all the money I took and he doesn’t know about the gun I bought. And I love to imagine the look on his face when he sees it.
Until next time . . . I love you