Formless: The Reaper

Chapter 5:Judge,Jury and Executioner

Thomas' POV
I yawned then hesitated to get up from my bed after the dream I'd just had.It was about that man.The man at the door.He appeared again.I got out of my bed and walked towards the door.These scaver beds are very uncomfortable.My neck hurt like hell and I was truly scared especially after what happened 3 hours ago.

I walked outside and apart from the foggy sky I could just about see a dusty path heading into a forest and I couldn't see any other way to get back home.The sun was starting to set and the day was when I entered a hiking rest area south of scaver camp.  Looking for an area to sit down and eat something, I spied a clearing not far off the main trail that appeared to have only a single tent.  An old man, possibly in his 70's, was starting a small campfire when I entered the area.

"Hello.  How are you?  Would it be OK for me to camp next to you?"

"Hello yourself, young man.  Yes, please come and share my fire.  No need for you to start another this late in the afternoon."  The old man seemed polite and nice as he motioned to the area immediately right of his tent.

"Thanks," I replied as I dropped my briefcase on the ground next to his tent.  "I appreciate the hospitality, sir."

The old man nodded and continued his cooking over the fire.  The smell of meat and beans was in the air as he stirred the pot mounted over the fire.

"That smells good," I commented as I read my book.  "You must be a seasoned camper."

The old man smiled.  "Oh yes," he replied as he looked over at me.  "I have lived in this area for years and know the woods like the back of my hand."

"Really.  You live locally?" I asked

"Yes, just outside Carrington in a beige house.  Been there for what seems like forever."

"Wow, my great grandfather used to live in the same area.  He died in his house around 1935.  It was such a terrible event that my great grandmother moved to South Malcova to be closer to our family."

The old man continued to stir his pot as he gave my story some thought.  "How did your great grandfather die?"

"Well, no one knows for sure.  My great grandfather was a lawyer and our family has had some suspicion that he might have been poisoned.  But there was no evidence of that."

The old man pulled the pot from the fire and started to fill two plates with the cooked beans and pork.  "Poison?  Your family certainly has an interesting story that it's passed down."

I laughed.  "Well, the Arnoist's are known to be a weird group of people."

The old man sat on the ground next to me and picked at his food.  "You know Thomas, sometimes there is some truth in the stories passed down in families.  You shouldn't write things off until you have researched them a bit."

I looked at the old man with a puzzled face.  "How do you know my name is Thomas?"

The man grinned.  "Well, it's on your briefcase young man."

I looked over at my case and noticed the name tag facing out at us.  "You're very observant," I said as I looked back at the man.

He shrugged.  "It comes with age."

We talked further into the night before finally wishing each other good evening and I went into his tent.  Tired from the long day, I fell asleep quickly in the cool spring air.

I awoke in the morning to find the old man gone but the campfire still smouldering.  After putting the fire out and packing, I headed on my way to return home.  The old man was largely forgotten as I turned my focus to preparing for my trip home.The old man unknowingly must've forgotten his bag.

While paging through historic law briefs in the man's bag, to my amazement, I came across some 1935 legal documents from an important case in the western area of Carrington.  The arguments for the country's position on staying in the area were presented by my great grandfather Jonothan Arnoist while the opposing arguments were given by the defendant, Pete Yurley.  The briefs caught my interest and I spent well over an hour reading through the details.  As I turned page after page, I finally stopped in shock.  The final page of the briefs had a 1935 picture of the case which captured the legal proceedings.  Jonothan Arnoist was shown arguing in front of a local officer while the defendant Pete Yurley was seated alongside the judge for questioning.  I gasped in horror and shock as I realized that the man in the picture was the old man that I had shared a camp with.  Then I recalled one of his comments to me:  "You know Thomas, sometimes there is some truth in the stories passed down in families."

Later on that day I felt really relieved and I decided to walk down the forest.In my shock, I found the same old man I shared a camp with on the floor dead.He wasn't bleeding or showing any signs of being shot or stabbed which was odd.I turned him over and underneath his body was a piece of paper.I decided to read it and it said:"I decided that Jonothan needed to be taken care of so I had it done.He isn't a problem now.Was that supposed to be sent to someone?Was that old man my great grandfather's murderer?I don't even know what to think.Maybe this is just a dream...