In front of him, six massive pecan trees swayed in the wind. Soft moans eased from their knotted limbs. The sound was so rhythmic it almost formed words. A flash of color peeked from a gap in the blades of grass. Ellis picked up a blue knit cap. An R was written on the tag near the bottom. “Rudy?” He waded through the grass toward the trees. The wind slapped Ellis’s shirt against his skin and the knit cap was snatched away. He tried to grab it, but his fingers closed around empty air. Rudy’s cap disappeared between glistening branches and into the churning sky. Ellis started to turn but noticed jagged grooves carved into the bark of the tree next to him. The lines formed the letter B. The next one an I, the next one a G. There were more. He put them all together. Big and Terrible. One tree after the other he found the words written in the same primitive writing that was often on the drawings that papered the walls in Rudy’s bedroom.
