100 Worder Stump Road

100 Worder

David Hook

Stump Road

  Stale black coffee, no sugar

The forest. Stump Road. Leafless trees copped and skeletal slumber and dream of spring.

A rabbit, bloated and mouldered. Flies feasting from above and worms, likewise, from below. 
A bench, rotted and decayed, cloaked in a shroud of ivy sits beneath an ancient oak. Initials carved within a heart. 
A squirrel chatters a warning and a crow reciprocates with a mournful caw.  The man places a single rose upon the recently disturbed soil beneath the bench as a Muntjac bears witness from a thicket. Clouds obscure the watery sun banishing the man to shadow. 
A susurrus breeze, one word, 'Murderer!’

About the Author

David lives on the edge of Epping Forest having been raised on a council estate in London. Recently resigned from a stressful job after twenty years he finds that his mind is decluttering and is now able to concentrate on hobbies and interests. He hopes, despite a crippling fear of grammar and punctuation, that writing will become one of them.