I run for my health. It keeps my heart strong and clears my head. But the truth is, every time I step onto a secluded trail or the damp, misty stretch of beach before sunrise, I’m bracing myself—for what, exactly, I don’t know.
It’s the fear of stumbling across something I shouldn’t. A shape half-buried in the sand. A pale hand reaching from the undergrowth. A body.
Joggers find bodies sometimes. I’ve read the articles. A runner out for his usual morning loop sees something odd at the tree line. Curiosity gets the best of him, and suddenly, he’s locked in a waking nightmare.
I’d call the police, obviously. But what then? No witnesses, no alibi—just my insistence that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And in those first crucial moments, before the cops arrive, before they piece together what happened, I’d be the only suspect.
I picture myself trying to explain: I run here all the time, officer. But they’d be thinking, Why? Why alone? Why here? And then there’s my fingerprints. I touched the body. My footprints are in the damp soil right beside it. A legal grey zone where my innocence is just a matter of perspective.
The idea chills me. It should.
I slow to a walk. My pulse quickens, but not from exertion.
I try to remember: Did I put that one here?
It’s hard to keep track.
Wait! What?
Well, wasn’t that a sweet two-sentence twist to the story?
Bodies have a way of appearing in the story SEETHINGS. I wrote it in a way to keep the reader on their toes. Just as the puzzle looks to be solved, another piece is found, changing its outcome. The story isn’t understood until all the pieces are located. Download and read the book for free right now (limited time).
Discover more from Michael Forman – Author of Dark Fiction & Drama
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