They live in a small house in the woods of Western Canada that’s covered with shrubbery from the years and years and years and years of neglect. They moved into the cabin in the summer of 1871. They were newlyweds then and Tim had a red shirt made by his wife, Vicky.
It is now 1956. They are old as bumble bees, but continue to tend to their beloved home. Tim does the landscaping and the trout fishing and Vicky does the berry picking and the bird catching. Tim loves sparrow — undercooked and gnawy with a dash of salt and a sweet raspberry glaze. Vicky’s favorite is owl because of the noises they make in the dead of night.
They are known by the neighbors as strange and unfriendly. Partly due to their inability to die, but also due to the incident in 1888.
No one knows what happened. But everyone knows that something happened. When asked, their faces turn white with a slight tinge of green. The green may be due to the remaining effects of the illness of 1910. But the white is most certainly due to the shock and fear of the memory. Neither will utter so much as a quiet squeal if 1888 is brought up.
Rumor has it, someone was slain with an axe. Then painted blue with a dye made of blueberry and thyme. Then covered with squirrel hides and buried behind the shrubbery that engulfs the east side of the house and crawls ever so slowly across the roof towards the west side. But no one has anyway of knowing for sure what happened in 1888 with the axe and the dye and the squirrel hides behind the shrubbery of Vic and Tim’s cabin.
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