Alastor's Death

Part 1

My mother probably wouldn't have wanted me to go down this path and yet here I am dragging a dead body through the woods.

This is the corpse of Jack Johnson who was thirty-six years old, had a wife named Mary and three children. He was also responsible for the murders of those children. Hit all three of them at once with his Model T Ford. It was deemed to be all just an accident but I know it wasn't. That's why I got rid of him as brutally as possible and enjoyed doing so.

Gunshots echo faintly throughout the forest. I always need to be careful when I bury bodies here. It's a hunting ground.

I dispose of bodies in various different places, but the police always seems to find them. They're always hot on my trail and that's why the hunting ground is such a good spot. The smell of blood isn't uncommon here, and just in case they do come in here, I've altered the bottom of my shoes to look like deer hooves. They'll never be able to find a trail of human footprints with a dead body at the end of it.

This should be a good place. Right in between these two distant trees and as far away from them as possible. If I were to bury Jack directly under one of them, it would be healthier than the others, which would result in some confused hunters, and maybe some very suspicious policemen.

I start to dig into the soft earth with my rusty shovel which has aided me in all my heinous acts. Once the hole is deep enough, I roll Jack's cadaver into it, his head rolling back and his mutilated insides spilling out, leaving a puddle of blood and bits of muscle tissue strewn around the forest floor.

Oh dear. More like "oh deer". Ha! But seriously, If someone were to find this, there isn't a chance that they'd believe this is from a deer.

Just then, there's a thunderous boom which startles me slightly, followed by a cacophony of barking. There are some hunters nearby. I need to finish this quickly.

I use my feet to push the remaining pieces of Jack into the hole with the rest of him and hurriedly put the pile of soil next to me back where it was originally. The patch of bare mud makes it look as if someone's just done some gardening in the middle of a hunting ground so I cover it with soggy leaves and head back in the direction I came from.

Despite being in a rush to get out of here, I still take the time to mimic a deer with my footprints, stopping and walking around random patches of grass before continuing.

I return to a natural pace as I'm walking out of the forest. There's a large bearded man nearby walking out with a carcass slumped over his shoulder. He gives a friendly look in my direction and heads toward me. I just hope I can pass as a hunter. I have a shotgun slung behind my back. It's what I used on Jack, along with an assortment of hunting knives that I have purposely poking out of my pockets.

"Hello, what happened?" the man asks in a cheerful tone, noticing I have blood on my hands but no dead animal. I luckily have an excuse prepared. I need to be as forgettable and unidentifiable as possible, just in case, so I need to use the accent most people have in Louisiana. It's unlike the voice I always use which is similar to how I sound when I'm broadcasting. He can't recognize me from my show. I can't be memorable.

"Oh, the deer I got clearly had a disease so I buried it," I say in an equally cheerful tone, hoping my excuse will explain why I have a shovel in my hand. And just in case to be extra careful, I chime in at the end, "I would try to get another but I need to get back home to the kids. Have a nice evening."

I'll be less likely of a suspect if he thinks I have kids to take care of without a wife, while in reality, I never have and never will have a wife and kids. I then wave the man goodbye and flash a wide toothy grin.

(I'll add more if anyone actually sees this. I tried to make this seem as much like Alastor as possible but it's so difficult)