“Are you sure it was here, Albert? It was a long time ago, you know.”

“As sure as I am of anything. I clearly remember bringing her out of the house and carrying her down to the garden, like it was yesterday. She was heavy, too, down all those steps.”

“And it was here, this close to the house?”

“Look, I told you she was heavy, didn’t I? I really wanted to put her down under the big oak tree at the bottom, but she was just too darned heavy for me to carry that far. I was only about eight at the time.”

“Couldn’t anyone have helped you with her?”

“Maybe, but Dad was in one of his moods at the time – you know he was sick, don’t you? He wasn’t just bad-tempered, there was something not right in his head. Doctors said he was going senile and that made him crotchety. It wasn’t the knowing he was going senile made him angry, his tempers were just one of the symptoms. They didn’t have fancy names for it back in them days. Didn’t really understand what was going on. Not like now-a-days with all these scans and such like. Anyway, that’s why he couldn’t help.”

“And your Mum?”

“Too busy looking after Dad and trying to keep him happy as well as all the work she had to do. And before you ask, I didn’t have any brothers or sisters; none that lived past five, anyway.”

“So you were an only child, effectively?”

“You cotton on quick, don’t you? I didn’t have brothers or sisters, so of course I was an only child. Queenie, our Alsation, was the only friend I had back then. Inseparable, we were.”

“And that’s what we’re looking for now? The place you buried Queenie?”

“Oh, no. We’re looking for where I buried that annoying little ginger kid I killed with that shovel over there.”

“Little… ginger… What?!”

“Well, she was asking too many questions. Got on my nerves, she did.”

“What sort of… oh, forget it. Let’s look some more.”

“Yes, let’s.”


This was written in response to Kreative Kue 221 published on this site.


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