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I Know Where The Body Is Buried

So what should I do now?

Photo by Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash

There is a body buried at my childhood home. I know that because I saw the gravestone, but there is more to the story than that.

Summer, Early 1950’s

I can’t put an exact date on this. I might have been as young as four, perhaps as old as six. It’s hard to pin that down: I know that I was quite young and that we moved to this house in 1952, so it couldn’t have been before that.

If I could remember whether the old barn was still standing, I might narrow the date. My father tore that barn down sometime after we moved, but I don’t know when and I don’t remember if the barn was still standing on the day in question.

I’ll have to ask my sisters if they remember. And my cousin, because she might have been there that day too. If any of them remember the day, they might be a better judge of when this happened.

My sisters and my cousin are older than I am. That might help narrow the time as well, as the oldest is seven years older. Our cousin is about the same age. I’ll also need to ask her if she recalls any of this.

A big family

The house was big, 2600 square feet in three stories. For a brief period in the fifties, our…