He kissed her on the cheek and opened the front door. The
wind was blowing through the trees and rain was just beginning to fall. He decided to ride through the graveyard
to save time on his way home. As he pedalled through the graveyard the creak of the branches above him spooked him and he
pedalled just that little bit faster.
The following morning, when he returned, he was alarmed to see
Policemen had cordoned off the area.
“I need to get through” he said
“I’m sorry, sir, no-one gets through” said the officer
“But my Grandmother lives the other side of the graveyard”
“Your Grandmother, Sir?”
“I need to make sure she’s alright”
“When did you last see her?”
“About 10.30 last night”
“I see, you’d better come with me”
And with that the rope cordon was lifted.
“Was she alone when you left sir?”
“Why, what’s wrong, what’s happened to her?”
“She’s absolutely fine – we just need to ask a few questions”
“Which way did you ride home?”
“Through the graveyard”
“Through the graveyard, sir? I think you should show us exactly where”
And so he did
It was then that they paused – and asked if he was certain
that this was the route he had taken. They asked him to mount his bicycle, and
then measured him from the top of his head all the way to the ground.
“Aah, two inches” they murmured
“What do you mean, two inches?”
“You missed her body, by two inches”
You see, size really does matter and 2 inches can mean the difference
between life and death – he had cycled underneath the hanging body of a woman and missed her body by just two inches.....
The poor young lad, touched almost literally by death and scarred
for life because of it. Scarred by a death he did not even witness, but scarred
never the less as though he had killed her himself
