Day after day the old fool would be ploughing his fields. Nobody else was ploughing. He seemed obsessed.
No ordinary plough though for Zebediah Higgins. Made it himself he did. Looked like one of them choppers. You’d see him lying back, ploughing away. “Born to be wild” blaring out from his radio. It just wasn’t normal.
Zeb’s wife had gone missing recently. It seemed to tip him over the edge. He now ploughed more furiously than ever. Elsie had been his rock. They argued incessantly but loved each other dearly.
One more plough and they’ll never find her grinned the mad old farmer.
“Take a break” shouted Dan as he and Frankie collapsed breathless under the gnarly old tree.
“It pulls in evil” said Dan looking up at the knot riddled branches. “Reaches out and just grabs it. Those lumps? Bad people. Every crime committed in these parts, it removes a bit of evil. The bigger the crime the more it needs.”
“Does stealing Mr Perkins car count?” said Frankie jokingly.
As Dan moved away Frankie’s muffled cries faded to silence.
How many more? How many…?
Dan knew well enough that what he’d done to that girl meant the old tree would be expecting him again very soon.