“Days later after the dad’s disappearance, they found the dead body at the bottom of the cliff. The majority of the town concluded it was an accident. The whole town mourned; he was remembered as the town’s good friend.”
“Oh! I remember that you said during the funeral, the mother and kid didn’t even cry.”
“Yeah, and I theorized that it could be familicide.”
“Are you saying that either the mother or the kid was the locust killer?”
“The theorist smirked while drinking her tea.
“The kid, the kid is plausibly alive.”
The acquaintance chuckled. “You and your crazy theories.”
The theorist looked out to the rear window. A single locust sits on the window screen.
It made the theorist remember those days of the town’s locust season, but that train of memories stopped on one particular day.
Could it be true?
YOU ARE READING
Dirsh
Short StoryTwo "gossiping" acquaintances and a "detached" family revolves their life around a serial killer.
