Ed

Ed sat high up in his tree, waiting for the deer. They’d come eventually, they always did. Whether or not he’d get one was another story altogether.

He was good at sitting still for long periods of time. He’d learned to do it after repeated beatings for fidgeting in church, wiggling at the dinner table, whatever his mother thought was irritating or inappropriate.

Forty years is too long to give a damn about what your mother thinks.

Ed couldn’t help it. The dead bitch held court in his head, reminding him that his large ugly body was in the way and offensive.

If he could, he’d kill her all over again.

Photo courtesy of http://thedudescorner.ca/Autumn%20Scenes-1.html.

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