Excerpt:

The winter rain has left lush green moss overgrown throughout the forest. If I’m not careful, I could slip on the rocks. Luckily I have this old shovel so I can use it as a walking stick. It’s late at night. In the open fields I see constellations and the craters on the moon.
If I had time, I would stop and admire them but I have a schedule to keep. I would like to say I have a system but I don’t really. That would mean I do this regularly, which is only partly true. I’ll get back to that later though. I don’t have time to go into that while I’m weeding through evergreens and rocks.
I feel a little disappointed because tonight went so smoothly. I know, it sounds weird but there’s an excitement in chance. After doing this a few times, a well executed night can be lack luster. Now that I think about it, every time I do filet night things tend to work at well, not that I’ve done it a lot.
OK, I know where I’m at now. The last thing I need is to get lost out here in these woods. Let me explain myself a little more. A little ways back that way I buried a lady. Why, you might ask. I can’t really tell you why. She was walking down the street with a couple of bags of groceries in her hand. First off, she was using plastic bags. Do people really not understand how evil they are yet? Then I saw a box of Poptarts in one. That’s when I knew I’d have to kill her. Kids shouldn’t call that breakfast. She must have gone to the grocery store just after getting off for work because it was later in the evening. That’s why this session didn’t last very long. I didn’t want to hold onto the body overnight. If I prepare the cabin, then I don’t have a problem doing that but when I find someone at the last minute like this then I usually try to dump the body fast.
I’m on the trail that leads to my cabin. I always slow down when I get here. I’m always worried I’ll have someone waiting for me after a night like this and will turn me into the police. The cabin is nowhere near the redwoods, although I wish it was then I would have to crouch down by this log to see if it’s clear to walk to my cabin. It rests on the side of a hill so I can’t see all of the sides of the cabin without circling it. I do that from a distance, like I’m inching my way to a foxhole during World War 2. When I get to the backyard and see both doors are clear, I slowly make my way to the backdoor. I always get more nervous when the woods are quieter than normal. Something must be out there, I’m thinking.
I lay down my shovel next to my firewood and place my boots next to the door. I’ve made that mistake before. I know better now.