This is the final, fourth instalment in a series of four. I’d strongly recommend checking out the others, so you have some inkling of what’s going on in this one:
Part one: Healing Hands
Part two: The Wheels of Progress
Part three: Light Dawns
They were glad they’d finally found an occupation where he seemed to find some level of calmness. Having hard-quit his swimming, and developed a general aversion to water of any kind, he’d been spending most of his time hiding away, keeping himself to himself, and barely engaging with anyone.
One of the guards had been watching him wandering alone in the prison’s kitchen garden when the idea came to them. They’d observed as he surveyed the veg beds, picking at the odd weed. Since a space on the rota had come up, they’d offered him the spot. He’d shrugged and nodded - not much, but it was more communication than they’d got out of him for weeks, so they took it as a win.
A raised bed up against a retaining wall in the bank provided perfect shelter for his climbers, and the way it caught the morning sun made it ideal for the rows of salad he already had growing vigorously. He’d even been seen out there at regular intervals during the various recent bouts of heavy rain, methodically checking and reinforcing, ensuring his prized plants were safe. At last, he appeared to have found a niche for himself. He even seemed a bit calmer when he was back indoors.
~~~~~
He noticed the wall, where he was checking his bean plants after the heavy rain, smelt cold and dank, despite the warmth of the morning sun. He’d have to keep an eye on that, make sure no mould started showing. Wouldn’t do to lose his precious crops for the sake of a bit of negligence. Best keep up his regular checks, make sure everything was in order. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing them.
He smiled wryly to himself; funny how he’d never truly trusted anyone since he was a kid, but here he was, pouring his everything into a bunch of leaves. At least they never beat him about or locked him up like his mum had. Nobody’d ever believed him; ever listened. Always just there pointing the finger, accusing. Sod the lot of ‘em. Give him beans and lettuces any day. You could trust beans and lettuces.
~~~~~
The sudden deep rumbling noise from the direction of the prison shook the very ground, and grabbed the attention of the three strangers waiting at the bus stop: a girl with scarring to her hand, another with a hockey stick slung across her back, and a young guy from the local factory, wearing thick glasses.
~~~~~
When the wall suddenly caved, under the strain from the mass of muddy water behind it, he stood no chance. But as the stones and muddy sludge surrounded and engulfed him, it seemed to carry away with it all his angst and torment, replacing it with a strange, final sense of release, but also inevitability; of completion.
His last sensation was one of overwhelming peace, as if a mystical balance had been restored. As if life had finally found its level.
~~~~~
A few miles away, a digger driver shouted back to his mate from the bank of the pond they were excavating at the derelict cottage they’d bought.
“I’ve uncovered something in the mud! Best call the police, quick. I think it’s a body…”
There had always been rumours about the wayward lad who’d taken off to the city after his mother had disappeared. He’d never set foot again at the cottage they rented at the edge of the village, and there was word that he’d got himself into some kind of bother, but nobody took a lot of interest; the family had always kept themselves to themselves. The poor dad, left back there alone, had pretty much become a recluse. He stayed at the increasingly decrepit cottage until his death a few years later. It had remained empty ever since, until the owner eventually put it on the market. Someone soon bagged it at a knock-down price, as a doer-upper.
Forensics later confirmed the remains they’d found were indeed human. Tests brought up a match: another missing person case closed. Pathology concluded that she’d died from a blow to the head, her body concealed in the muddy sludge at the bottom of the pond, under a few walling stones.