I found the knife on my jog through the woods. I had stopped for a minutes to shelter under an old twisted yew tree whilst I waited for a sharp down pour to end. The handle was sticking out from a low loose branch and when I pulled it the blade came easily out. Surprised, I froze for a few seconds. I hadn’t thought the knife would be that long!
Who had stuck it in the branch and left it? Someone who’d been up to no good, maybe. My mind began to flash with options; a criminal, a dealer, a suicidal person, a murderer? I jabbed the knife back into the tree branch then like a panic idiot I took the hem of my t-shirt and wiped the handle.
I turned my back and pretended that I had never seen the knife. I looked out at the rain dripping off the summer leaves and realised the shower wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Preparing myself to start jogging again, I wondered how long the knife had been there.
Every morning I came this way, so how come I’d just noticed it now? Maybe due to the fact I hardly stopped on my jog? Warm up done again, I set off and the rain full pelted me. Luckily, it was only ten minutes to the back door of my house.
That knife haunted me for months. I don’t know why. Before I fell asleep and when I awoke, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my jogs I didn’t stop at the tree, I kept focused and just ran on.
One day though, I just had to know. I stopped at the yew tree and searched for the knife, but it wasn’t there.