Gently Flowing Creek

The stones were singing to me the moment I stepped into the gently flowing creek.  Singing to welcome me home and to ask me what had taken so long.  I sat on the edge of the river and let the cool water wash away the problems of the day.   

I always regretted not coming to the creek as often as I dreamed about it.  Every time I came I asked myself how I could let my life get in the way of my happiness.  Happiness to me was being here and being alone.  To be alone with my thoughts and with the water rippling around my feet.   

It had been two weeks since the last time I had been here and I could tell something was different.  The birds weren’t chirping like they usually did an the more I looked, the more I could see signs of disturbance.   

I wasn’t sure I wanted to look around, but I knew if I wanted to come back, I needed to.  I also knew my chance to relax wouldn’t come unless I knew what was happening.  Or what had already happened.  I slowly dried my feet and laced up my shoes while I made a plane of where and how much I was going to search. 

Fortunately, my search didn’t take too long.  Unfortunately, I  found the shallow grave not far from where I was sitting.  I knew I could never come back because I knew who was buried. 


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