A Picture a Day, Keeps the Something Something

One Picture, One Story

The Eastman Ghost

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Mike hung up the receiver and smiled. It wouldn’t be long until an unsuspecting RCMP officer would discover the body. He turned to go, forgetting about his busted ankle for a moment. The shot of pain brought him to his knees for a moment before he began hobbling back towards his car. His detour to a phone added another half-kilometre to his trek and his rolled ankle slowed his pace dramatically. He heard the distant sound of a car engine coming to life as he gingerly progressed down the highway. He panicked a little at the sound, but quickly dispelled his fears. There was no way the authorities would get here that quickly, he was in the middle of cottage country on a week day. He could hear the sound of rubber on gravel coming from the bush across the highway and that’s when he saw it. The letters brightly reflecting the street light, RCMP. “Shit!” Mike had never noticed that sign when he scouted the area. Now the cop would find his victim before Mike could even reach the driveway. He hobbled into the ditch and lay in the damp grass to keep out of view while he tried to plan his next move. He was greatly disappointed with this oversight, but he had a new task at hand and he needed to get moving. He thought about simply walking down the highway as the house was hidden in the trees and it would be unlikely he would be spotted, but being in the open like that was too much of a gamble so he decided to take the longer, more difficult route along the river bank. He knew that the river was visible from the window, but the bank dropped steeply just before the shore and he would be able to sneak by without being noticed. The big issue with taking this route was his shoe prints being left in the damp sand, so he took the plastic shoe covers out of the plastic file, placed some grass and leaves in the bottom to better hide the tread pattern and put them over his shoes.

The river bank was not far from the store, maybe 10 or 15 metres, but his ankle was beginning to swell and the uneven terrain was not helping matters. He slowly eased his way down to the shoreline and began the slow journey to his car. The river was smooth as glass with the ripples from a distant loon visible in the moonlight. He paused for a minute to take in the beauty. He grew angry as he saw the many docks with power boats and fishing gear and watersports accessories. These people deserved what was coming to them for coming into the wilderness and showing as little respect as they do; driving their giant trucks, driving their big boats, leaking gas into the water. It infuriated him and he felt the growing urge to set another example of someone, but there weren’t many others who stayed here during the week. He shook his head and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves a little and continued along. He managed to make good time and was at his victim’s place in no time. He stopped and leaned into the bank and listened for any movements or sounds that could be the officer. Convinced that he could keep moving without being spotted he began moving forward again, but his curiosity got the better of him and he slowly climbed the bank to take a look. He could see the red lights of the RCMP car reflecting off the trees, but could not see any movement in the house. He lay there for a minute or two waiting for any sign of the officer, but he didn’t see or hear a thing. He lowered himself back down and continued the trek to his car.

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This entry was posted on January 9, 2014 by in Eastman, Short Story, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , .
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