Released by Dawn DeBraal

 * Apologies for the erratic indentation, Blogger doesn't want to cooperate with the formatting.    

     The spiked wrought-iron gate hung on a broken hinge, haphazardly. No one has used this gate for many years. The house behind the gate was slowly sinking into the wetland that surrounded it. The only light cast by the moon, risen high in the night sky. He could see his hand and the shadow of blood upon it. Not his blood, but that of his brother, Richard. 

       Raymond picked the gate up to push it in. With a loud painful creak, the gate turned in, allowing him into the property. He closed it behind him. His boyhood home still stood, but years of neglect had taken its toll. He was home again, after serving his time of punishment for what he’d done. He was a free man now. But when you committed murder, were you ever free? 

      Time served with a few months off for good behavior. His mother died while she waited. Maybe it was better this way. Having to face her after all these years would have been painful. She never came to see him all that time locked behind bars. The house remained empty after her death. No one had lived here for many years. It had the face of neglect. 

     Raymond stepped up on the porch. The wood spongey beneath his feet. He reached into the mailbox near the door, where he found the keys that the lawyer left earlier in the day. The skeleton key fit the lock, turning it hard enough to hear the satisfying clank of the mechanism falling into place. 

     The electricity had been turned on, expecting his arrival. The old push button light switch lit up the hall. It was a time capsule. His mother had not changed anything the twenty years he’d been away. 

     The stairway to the second floor was grand in its day. Each step creaked beneath his feet as he slowly climbed them. He knew where he was going. Richard’s room. How could he not? The door slightly ajar allowed him to push it open with his foot. The moon’s light played in the corners. Raymond was afraid to turn on the light but pushed the button anyway. 

     The room had not changed; his mother left all Richard’s things precisely the way they were, the day he died. The day they fought. The window had been repaired.

     Raymond’s thoughts went back to that night. Richard sat at his desk, working on his homework. Raymond was angry. Angela told him she was in love with Richard. She’d chosen the wrong brother.            

      He could still see the fear in Richard’s eyes. Richard was a year older, but many pounds lighter. Raymond put his hand to his face and wiped the tears, turning as he heard footsteps on the stairs. 

     “Hello?” he called out. Angela. Just as he remembered her. 

     “How did you know?” Raymond asked. 

     “It’s all over town,” she said. Raymond turned again, gazing about the room. 

  "Nothing has changed. Mother left it a shrine. It’s unbearable.” Angela nodded sympathetically.

     “But now, you can come with us.” 

     “Us?” Raymond asked. Angela strolled over to the window lifting it open. She gazed out into the darkness. 

    “Yes, I’ve waited for so long,” she said. Raymond walked to the window. Wondering what Angela was looking at. He could see two people walking down the sidewalk toward his house. Did Angela bring other people with her? He didn’t want to see anyone. Raymond leaned out the window to get a better view when Angela pushed him. 

     He tried to lift himself off the gate. The jagged points came through his body, just like they did Richard’s. The two men came rushing to him. 

     “He jumped out the window,” one man said, recognizing Raymond immediately.

     “Don’t touch him. If you lift him off the gate, he will bleed to death,” said the other man as he pulled out the cell phone and dialed 911.

     “Hey, it’s Raymond! Raymond, it’s me, Billy Danby. How did this happen?” 

    “A-A-Angela pushed me out the window.” He told his childhood friend. Blood filled his mouth. He was having trouble breathing. 

   “Angela?” Billy asked, incredulously. “Angela Fenman?”  Raymond nodded his head, “Yes,” he coughed.

     “Angela committed suicide after you killed your brother, Raymond. She couldn’t live with the guilt of causing Richard’s death.” Raymond thought he heard Angela was dead, but there she was, standing beside his brother. He followed them as they walked away. 

     “Never mind an ambulance, he’s dead. Send the coroner,” said Billy’s companion.

Dawn DeBraal lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband Red, two rat terriers, and a cat. Since retiring, she has discovered her love of telling a good story, can be written. You will find her works in several online magazines and, printed anthologies.