Part 2

Autumn of Aaron Elliot

Editor’s Note: This is the second of a five part series. Look for part three Dec. 22.

It wasn’t at all like the movies. It wasn’t a quick bang of action that started with the actor open-mouthed and in shock and then ended with a bloody scream. This wasn’t a made for television movie where they could just cut to a commercial and you continued cleaning your dishes in your pink and white kitchen. This was real life. Peter wanted to pinch his skin and wake up from this dream. He wanted Bobby Joe to sucker punch him and laugh in his face all the while choking on his own laughter; and somewhere between the gasps for breath repeating, “You should have seen your face!” But this wasn’t a prank – this was serious. Cutting through the silence, Peter found himself whispering without realizing it until the words were all he could see when he closed his eyes, “Wake up, man, wake up.”

Even though it was dark, the moon seemed to light up the woods more than before. The moon served as a spotlight shining down on the stage of the crime scene. Peter waited for the body to wake up and hear a director yell “Cut!” But no noise was present except for the shallow intake of breath coming from Peter’s mouth.

The dead body appeared to be a middle-aged man in a denim jacket and tight blue jeans. He had dark hair dyed an even darker shade by the color of his own blood. The blood on his face was dried and the odor of death had not yet crept in which gave evidence that the body had been there for no more than a couple days. While Peter began to wonder who could have done such a thing, he remained oblivious to the pair of eyes watching his every move.

Peter had no idea what to do, but he knew he couldn’t make a decision at that very moment – he could not make any mistakes. By the time Peter arrived at home, supper was on the table but he was not hungry. His mother glanced up from her steaming plate of steak and potatoes with a look of confusion on her face. She spoke softly to him in a gentle tone that made him want to hug her and tell her everything, “Home so soon? Here, come sit down, I’ll get you a plate.” But Peter could not talk and only shook his head ‘no’ and continued up the sandy-colored stairs to his room. He collapsed on his bed and almost immediately fell asleep. The next morning, he woke up to the sound of his annoying alarm clock beeping near his head. With each beep waking him up more and more to the memories of last night. The events of last night came flooding back and he had a hard time shutting the gate. But he continued with his normal routine so no one would suspect anything.

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