A Country Crime
He eased himself slowly down onto the weather worn seat, uneasy as to whether it would take his weight. He paused repeatedly, half expecting the decades old plank to crumble beneath him. Finally, he relaxed and applied his full weight.
The branch above creaked and groaned as he pushed gently with his feet to start himself in motion. How this stirred a thousand memories of his glorious childhood, of summers spent in a seemingly distant world of ease and playful dreams.
He watched his shadow spread under him, dark in the mid-summer light. Back and forth, back and forth, he stared at the earth bemused by his shadow swooping, somewhat devouring the rich green grass.
The gentle breeze brushed his face, the sweet smells of the summer air enveloped his mind, opening long shut rooms within his mind. How he wished to regain those thoughts, to live through them again, not to change a thing. A tear rolled down his beaten face, a tear confused with joys and despair. Joy to be back amongst true harmony, mixed with a fear and longing, a knowing of times elapsed, never to be retrieved again.
But he had to return to this place and a time forgot. That is why he had left the city, traveled 300 miles in the blistering heat, as soon as word had reached. He had to return, to see for himself the crime that had robbed a part of his life.
He raised his gaze, the anger swelling through his veins. Why, why had this happened?. For money no doubt. Greed even. The heat rose deeper, almost boiling. He had the money, a good life, friends, a family. He worked hard for which the rewards were seen. A posh apartment, the latest gadgets, a 50-inch TV, sports car. A diet of finest foods, made by the classiest of chefs. But all that meant nothing now. Nothing compared to the cruelest of fates that had changed his life.
In his field of view lay the deepest cut he could endure. A slash that only he could see, a wound deep inside. For what was once the beauty that had made him, of what had given him his soul was destroyed. Gone forever. He sat still, staring forward with a total disbelief. Forever blinking in hope that when his eyes opened it would reveal a dream. But no, it was still there, in vivid view.
The sounds of engines roaring, men chatting, of foundations being laid. These were the noises that now filled his ears. Not a stream trickling, or grasshoppers singing. No. The sound of development, of modern times. A new housing estate, here, where he had lived. How dare they! Who would allow such a thing to happen, to him? This was his life, his youth, being swallowed whole before his own eyes. And he could do nothing to halt this, this opinionated progress.
He stopped suddenly, his shoes scraping fiercely the dry ground. This was the finest place on earth. He had spent his childhood running through the open fields, of climbing tall trees and chasing rabbits and deer. Now it was empty, all gone. He could never again return to the place he called home.
He muttered his hatred, his deepest anger at all and everything. The veins on his neck vibrant and beating. He swore silently. He swore all that he knew, then froze, his face turning white. His hands squeezed the rope, his eyes flickering up to the open sky as the wispy clouds gently traveled across a sea of blue.
The dull thud was heard by him alone, as he fell back off the swing. This was fate, he thought to himself. A fate to be thankful for. He knew but did not care. He did not reach for his phone, or call out for aid. He just lay there, his eyes fixed through the leaves of the tree. A smile crossed his face. He was now at peace. A peace he deserved. A peace that he desired and would wholly allow. He thought of his family and hoped that they would understand his reasons through their grief. Just one last look amid a deep sigh. Then a darkness fell over his vision, that to him was the brightest of all lights.