The Grove

“This way,” called a woman, softly, “It’s Sarah, Sarah Goode…”


“Hurry, this way, it’s Doctor Foss –“

“Come on, it’s only Sam Cartwright – “

“Mona Diamond – “


I sank to the ground, overwhelmed. I clasped my hands over my ears but still I  heard their voices, calling out names, dozens of names, some I knew, some I had never heard, name after name… Who were they? Were they the spirits of people who had gone mad on this spot, perhaps, who lost their reason here in this grove, the insane of the ages, surrounding me? And suddenly they seemed to be all saying the same words and the voices swelled in the wind and the wind swirled all about me, crying the same words, shouting, singing the words over and over in the wind about my head, inside my head.

It was unmistakable. My name. My own name, in a hundred combinations, harmonious and discordant, now strident, now gentle, voices like my own, a voice like hers who was alive and is now dead but still tormenting me, calling to me, crying out my name, accusing, cursing, and all at once I reached my end.  I had no more courage, no more will. I took the same knife that I had plunged into her naked body in her warm bath and raised it high and screamed my scream and plunged the knife once more, deep into the very heart of the source of the voices inside myself, and as I felt it slice I saw them coming out of the trees toward me, the men kindly, the women soft, and their murmuring grew louder and their laughter more shrill as the moon went out.


The next morning I horrified an elderly couple walking their dog. That evening I horrified the city when the news of my two killings, of her and of myself, were broadcast far and wide.

And now I loiter in the grove with Daniel  Flanagan,  the man who made himself famous murdering runners for fun, and  Sarah Goode who poisoned her family all at the same meal, Mallory the Amusement Park murderer, Dr Foss the demented surgeon, Cartwright the steroid killer, Mona Diamond who ate her husband, all those like me who made the decision to take the lives of others and found no peace from it after all. Together we linger in the grove, waiting, waiting.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)