Gardening becomes a compulsion at times

Gardening becomes a compulsion at times

fiction
edward w pritchard

Gardening becomes a compulsion at times. After a storm or a restless night of troubling dreams I have a driving desire to clean and manage the garden along side the garage, near the house but fifty or more feet from the street I live on.

I killed and buried my girlfriend Sheila and put her  in the small garden near the lily pond. It's the only time I have ever done anything like that. I am usually not an  impulsive type person. I waited nearly a year after her transgressions against me to strike. The police questioned me twice about her disappearance but the case got cold and they quit the search for Sheila's whereabouts after a few months.

The other day I was out there bright and early raking, trimming and sprucing up the garden near the small pond. I had been dreaming about something or other and I awoke with an urge to clean up out there. I usually work very hard on those occasions; it's the third or fourth time I have done such garden work since the murder. My neighbor came over and loaned me a few tools to make the work easier.

It looks real nice out there today. I like to keep it cleaned and neat for Sheila. She use to enjoy gardening around my house when we were together and I know she would appreciate my efforts. Well, I think she would, I came to find out I didn't know her as well as I thought I did.
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