An hour ago his screams pierced the silence of these woods. Now I stare at this empty lake. My canoe sits still in the quiet water. The trees stand, the only witness to his justified murder in the early morning light. I think back to the feeling of the light leaving his eyes as he realizes his insignificance in the universe, the feeling of his slick sticky blood. I compare the stillness of the lake compared to when I dropped his weighted body in it, watching it sink slowly to its eternal rest. Now I sit at the edge of the lake and wash his filthy vile blood from my artful hands. "He never stood a chance. He was dead when he touched her." I whisper as I walk back to my car.
