Uncle Charlie.

Good morning Uncle Charlie

The next morning he awakes, gets dressed, and with a clear head knows he must get rid of the evidence before his days of hunting are over.

Child molesters in prison are not revered, neither are child murders. The latter just might have him meet a gruesome death of his own, in reality both probably would. Strange how convicts can have a sense of chivalry when it comes to children, a sick mind like his though would never understand that a child's innocence should be cherished.

He walks outside to his shed and gathers his good shovel and pick. He will need the pick because a layer of fist sized rocks lie just under a thin layer of dirt in these woods, a remnant of an old mining road overgrown with pines trees.

He gathers everything in a canvas bag then remembers the cleaver, and bags on the table in the house. He sets the bag down to return for his other supplies, and his fresh kill.

Walking into the house from the backyard, he enters the kitchen and is shocked into panicked silence.

"Good morning Uncle Charlie," she says taking a bite of cereal from a bowl in front of her.

She takes him so much by surprise he thinks his heart will jump from his chest.

He stumbles backwards in fear, unsure of his footing, because he was sure he.... Stopping as he hits the door jamb with his back.

"Good morning Uncle Charlie!" she exclaims, a little louder.

"What?" He asks, shocked he is even talking to her.

After all he could see the deep purple and black bruises all over her face and arms, and the swelled cheek and nose. He looks for the stab wounds , but they aren't there.

"I said Good Morning Uncle Charlie... My Mom says it's not nice to make people repeat themselves Uncle Charlie," she explains.

"W-what... W-who?" He stammers in shock.

"You're so silly Uncle Charlie," she says giggling, trying to take another bite of her cereal.
He gathers himself, and sits down at the table to keep from passing out.

He stares at her intently trying to figure out why she is even alive, and why she is being so nice.

"I made you a bowl Uncle Charlie," she says taking another bite.

He looks down and sure enough there is a bowl of cereal in front of him. His stomach growls and he realizes he is hungry so he takes a bite, and another and another.

He keeps his eye on her trying to figure out what is going on.

"Did you say your prayers Uncle Charlie?" She asks.

"What?" He asks

"Not that again... Don't worry I said enough prayers for both of us Uncle Charlie," she explains.

They both continue to eat their cereal. He looks up from time to time only to see her smiling, looking outside, and making faces at him.

The events of last night do not seem to bother her at all, this causes complete panic and anxiety within him. You could even say he is terrified. Terrified by a little girl in a cute church dress, that's still ripped from the night before. She probably doesn't even weigh seventy five pounds.

Sitting there thinking, he doesn't even notice her come around the table to stand next to him. Startling him as she appears at his elbow.

"Ahh! What do you want?" He screams.

"Your dishes Uncle Charlie, remember God likes good children," she states.

He leans back to let her gather his bowl, but is cautious and a bit fearful. She gathers the dishes, and walks over to place them in the sink. She opens one cabinet, then another, and then another.

He watches the odd behavior but is a little apprehensive about questioning her, but then curiosity gets the better of him.

"What are you looking for?" He asks.

"A step stool Uncle Charlie, I'm not tall enough," she explains.

"Tall enough for what?" He asks.

"To do the dishes Uncle Charlie."

"Don't bother I'll do them later," he says.

She finds the stool in the pantry ignoring his suggestion. She brings it out, places it in front of the sink, and sets about cleaning the dishes. She fills one sink, adds soap; she fills the other, and begins her work singing.

"Amazing Grace how sweet the sound..." She starts to sing. But the religious overtones are too much for him, he stands quickly, and walks outside to get a breath of fresh air.

Just outside the door he notices that she increases her volume so he is still able to hear her. He swears this little girl is trying to annoy him, but just as his frustration hits its peak, the singing stops.

"Uncle Charlie!" She screams.

He turns and rushes back in strangely worried for her safety.

"What?" He demands.

"What's this big knife for? And where do these bags go?" She asks.

He just stands there not really knowing what to say, he has the odd feeling that she knows what the knife is for, but he tries to remember that she is just a little girl.

"Uncle Charlie are you listening to me?" She asks.

"Just leave them alone," he tells her.
"Knives are dangerous I could get hurt you should...." she tries to explain, but he snaps.

"God damn it leave it alone!"

"You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain Uncle Charlie," she admonishes him pointing a crooked, broken index finger his way.

"Shut up!" He yells.

So she does; she crosses her arms, scowls and just stands there and stares at him, and stares at him. Eventually the staring starts to annoy him, and he snaps again.

"What the hell are you doing?" He yells.

"Shutting up Uncle Charlie," she explains.

"Uuugh" He yells in frustration as he punches the doorframe and grimaces when he pulls his hand back in pain.

"My Mom says if you make faces it will stick that way Uncle Charlie," she explains.

"Damn it!" He yells and walks out the door.

He walks out into the yard and sits in his favorite chair; he needs to regain control of this situation. It is just a little girl, why is she so annoying. Why does she get under his skin so much?

Finally he decides the time has come, he starts to get out of his chair when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and he is not startled, because he knows who it is.

"Oh, Its you." He says.

"The dishes are done, but I left the knife right where it was. It looks dangerous Uncle Charlie, if you're going to have children around you will need to-"

He just stands and walks inside the house, leaving her behind. A minute later he comes back out to see her sitting in the chair he was just in.

"Hey, I'll be right back." He explained as he approaches her.

He is carrying the cleaver and bags; he walks over by the shed, grabs the bag of shovels and picks, and walks off into the woods.

He has a rough map of the woods around his house, marked where he has others buried. That way he does not dig up any old memories.

He finds the spot he has set aside for her, and begins digging through the layer of rock with the pick first.

Then after a foot or so, he starts to make some headway and after a few hours he is at least five feet deep. He thinks that this should be enough but he digs another foot for good measure.

"Good and deep for this one," he says frustrated but newly confident.

He looks up and the top of the hole is even with his head, he struggles to climb out, but he makes it. He lies there for a minute exhausted from the exertion of digging and climbing.

Looking up into the canopy of the trees, and forgetting where he is for a moment. He listens to all the sounds of the outdoors, birds chirping, insects buzzing and faint off in the distance he can hear singing.

He strains to hear where it is coming from and as it becomes clear to him in which direction...it also becomes clear who it is.
He can tell by the song, Jesus loves me yes I know...

"I really hate that girl," he says as he climbs to his feet.

He walks back to the house with a singular purpose in mind but the song resonates in his head, and as he walks through the woods getting closer and closer, the song gets louder and louder.

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Hey guys, just wanted to say thanks again for reading. And I know right, how isn't she dead? All I can say is stick around for more answers. Don't forget to comment and vote. ❤