The Elm Tree

Early morning, the sun rising over the clouds, the elderly man is out walking his dog. An orchestra of sounds fill the air. Birds tweeting simultaneously as if greeting each other with welcome to a new day. A light breeze whishes as the stones crunch under each step as he ambles along the long gravel road.

He pauses, unsure why, he gazes to his left.

He sees a trampled trail, curious, he changes direction towards the flattened trail amongst the high grass. His dog barks, “what’s up fella?” Bo his best mate the coolie dog appeared unsettled. Sssshhh boy, “it’s ok” he says as he ruffles Bo’s neck.

Ahead the old man notices a familiar Elm Tree. Big, beautiful, looking somewhat sad. Why was it familiar? He wasn’t sure!

The man was drawn to that Elm Tree. They pause for a moment. Bo whimpers. The old man sits down beside him. Bo seems preoccupied staring off in the near distance.

The old looks to where his best mate was gazing forlornly.

Up to his feet again, still, uneasy, under his magnificent Elm tree, something captured his interest.

A deep hole. He knew deep down what was in the hole. He was hesitant to advance.

He continued to stand under his Elm tree pondering what to do next.

Bo escaped the old mans clutches, lurching towards the hole, he dropped heavily and let out and almighty heart rendering howl.

The old man shambles towards old Bo and the hole. He lays down beside his old mate and cuddles him. Sniffing in his odor as if he hadn’t seen him for a while.

Bo seemed to quiet, as if getting comfort out of the old man’s affection. The old man looks into Bo’s sad face, both sensing the deep mutual love between them, the old man turns his head slowly and looks down into the hole. He sees a corpse. Taken aback, shocked, the old man recognizes the corpse immediately. Shaken, aghast, his mouth opened, he wanted to scream. Silence.

He was staring at his own mangled body, he stared at his own decaying corpse in disbelief.

He had been murdered In a bungled robbery a week ago. The murderers took his body to the old Elm tree, dug a hole and put the old man’s broken body inside. Old Bo, the beloved coolie was so distraught, he followed those wretched murderers, he growled, bared his teeth and threatened, so fiercely and savagely the murderers never bothered to cover the old mans body.

Every morning as the sun rises Ol Bo heads to the Elm Tree where he mourned his best mate until sunset.

Old Bo died of heart break one month to the day after the old man died. He lays in the same hole under the big Elm Tree.

Today the ghost of the old man and his coolie are seen at sunrise walking to the Elm Tree and every evening at sunset they are seen walking back to the old man’s farm.

Best mates

#fowc

http://fivedotoh.com/2019/03/25/fowc-with-fandango-corpse/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/23/it-all-started-with-a-diamond-ring/

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