Tuesday – Anything Possible – Finger Point Prompt – Pitchfork

~ John W. Howell

I randomly opened The Last Drive to page 195 and, without looking, pointed to the page. The word pitchfork was closest to my finger.

Pitchfork by John W. Howell © 2023

Walking along the dark, rutted road, Silas Yoder turns his head to avoid looking at the pitchfork that a glance lets him know is leaning against the ancient hickory nut tree. A rub of chin whiskers did not contain the temptation to take a second look. A quick shift of his eyes has the same effect as putting a tongue on a frozen flagpole. His gaze is locked on the wretched tool.

It was broken and burning the last time he saw it. Knee to handle, a dose of kerosene, and a three-foot hole made sure no one would ever trace it to that horrible scene. Now, here it is, leaning against the tree, mocking his attempt at concealment. He knew it was the same since the handle still had the stains and prints from his bloody hands.

Trembling, he moves closer with measured steps. He must figure out a way to get rid of that cursed thing before it is found by someone else. As he gets nearer, the tines of the fork begin to vibrate and glow red. A low hum reaches his ears, and he interprets it as a warning. He is now convinced the fork is alive. How can I kill it? Is a question that crosses his mind. Almost like the fork is reading his mind, the hum gets louder and more invasive. Things are moving in time with the hum inside his head. A few stabs of pain let him know he is now in danger. Any more time spent near this fork may prove to be fatal. He decides to turn and run, but his body is not obeying his mind’s commands. He is vibrating like the fork and feeling heat spreading down from his brain.

“So you found him on the old Cutter Road?”

“Yeah, the doc says he died of a heart attack.”

“Why that old guy went walking there, I’ll never know.”

“Yeah, especially after his wife was so brutally killed. Any suspects on that yet?”

“Naw. Looks like she was stabbed several times with an old-fashioned pitchfork. Looks like the work of a maniac.”

“You find the weapon?”

“Not yet. Got a tip to look for a new hole in Yoder’s backyard. Probably a waste of time, but will check it out.”

“A tip?”

“Crazy thing. Came on my cellphone as a text. No way to trace the sender.”

“Maybe a hoax.”

“Maybe, but still need to check.”

“Want company?”

“Sure. let’s go.”.

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