Normal Reaction
1196 Words
It was like a dream. That feverish kind that could only come at night. The reason was simple: the man lying on the sofa did not look real.
Milo had left this place and had gone to the city when he was younger. He had seen a lot of handsome people but...Milo walked forward like he had been enchanted and touched their person lying on the sofa, the skin was warm.
He had never seen anyone like this. Like he just walked out from a painting. His blonde locks were scattered around the arm of the sofa, they looked soft and like they had never been touched with a cream for less than a thousand dollars. Angular face, strong chin, high, sharp cheekbones and full lips.
Like a masterpiece created with meticulous care, he was so exquisite and handsome that words fail to convey it fully.
Milo could barely bear to blink for a moment. He was like an artist who was greedily admiring a famous piece that was just unearthed; he feared that if he stopped looking at it for a moment, it might just disappear.
If there was any flaw to find at this moment, it would be the old sofa that the man was sleeping on. What an ugly sofa, Milo thought.
He froze. That was his sofa, what was he saying? No scratch that. He had just stood here like a fool admiring this man and neglecting the most important thing of them all.
Who the f**k is this on his sofa and how on earth did he enter his house which had two locks.
“Hey! Hey!” He shook the man, “Hey, wake up!”
The man was like a log of wood, no matter how much Milo shook him, he would not budge, he did not even move. His chest did not even rise, he lay still like a perfect sculpture.
Was he dead? Milo shook his head. No, his body was still warm. He should be alive. Milo thought for a second and shook his head, as crime dramas taught him nothing. Even if a person dies, his body can be warm for about 4 to 6 hours.
. Milo crept even closer and placed his hand on the Man’s chest. Nothing. He then tried placing his finger under the man’s nose. He could not feel even a puff of air.
His legs felt weak and Milo slumped on the ground. His mind ran even faster than him, building scenarios upon scenarios. The person must have killed this young man, maybe a jealous lover, with that face that could cause a war, who knows how many people that have been charmed by it. After killing him, he must have thought of him, the strange man living in a three-bedroom bungalow alone, he might even know of his past records and decided to frame.
Milo thought about it. He was just perfect. He had no close friends or relatives that might vouch for him, he worked in seedy places that had no cameras so he did not even have an alibi. Not to mention his record, That damned record.
If he was not the one being framed, he might just applaud the killer. The man or woman might have already called the police and was just waiting to see the drama.
No. No way. He needed to bury the body.
What about if he was burying the body and they come in right on time to catch him in the act. There would be no need for a jury, straight to prison, to a life of stale food and...No, he could not survive in prison. Not while that woman was alive.
Clam down, Milo, think about it. There will be no need for the person to call the police right now. Not while he had gone to the market this morning and had some many people that could attest to him.
If he was the killer, he would wait a while for the body to get cold at least before calling the cops.
Milo hurriedly stood up. He had a little time. He stood up and rushed out , jogging down the street to Old Farmer George home. Farmer George was among those who the government had bought out their homes. He had not argued and had settled for the huge sum of 400,000 dollars.
He had been divorced and had no children so the entire money was for him to enjoy in his old age.
Just thinking of the money made Milo’s head a little dizzy. The once beautiful poultry farm was now a litany of moving trucks as Farmer George packed away his life in small and large brown boxes.
“Ah! Milo. How are you doing, lad.” He smiled at Milo the moment he saw him walk into the house.
“Old George. Are you sure you can not fit me into one of these boxes? I am tired of Lux.”
The old man laughed loudly and tapped his stomach, “And let Gary haunt me in my dreams.”
“If he haunts you, haunts him back, you are about to receive the same haunting abilities after all.” The workers laughed and Old George picked a nearby thing to throw at Milo who dodged.
Milo laughed, his heart pounding in his chest but he did not allow the tension in his heart to show on his face, “I came with ulterior motives. That pick-up truck, have you sold it yet? I have a job.” He scratched his head.
When he had come back to Lux after his grandfather’s death, the person that had always lent a hand to him, helping every way he could.
Even now, he barely asked any questions as Milo took the pick-up truck. Carrying the handsome dead man into the pick up was easier said than done, for someone with a slender build, the man was as heavy as a bag of rocks.
By the time Milo put him in the truck, he was already sweating buckets. He pressed his feet on the accelerator and sped up.
The only thing good about growing up in Lux is that Milo knew Lux even better than most of the old people alive. He easily navigated the Lux Forest, heading to an old cabin to pick up a barrow. He packed the man into the barrow and wheeled it down, passing swamp and entering the depth of the forest.
Milo took a deep breath and drank down a mouthful of energy drink before he began to dig. It was a pity, he thought when he looked at the man’s face. He was just so handsome to die like this.
Beauty isn’t a blessing.
After turning the cart over, the handsome man tumbled into the hole and Milo did not waste any time. He used the shovel and began to fill the hole with dirt.
The dirt gradually covered the man’s legs and just as he turned to fill the shovel with dirt, he heard a voice that was as clear as sky.
“What are you doing?”
- Writer
