His hands sweat as he slowly walks toward the convenient store. Perspiration gradually drips off his all-black ski mask, and down his black leather jacket. He pauses, progressively opening the door, so as not to attract attention. Then the peculiar man approaches the counter, trying ever-so carefully to stay quiet. As he stands adjacent to the counter, he reaches into his pocket, and opens a knife, discretely so the cashier will not see. A mother and her adolescent child stare at this man. They ponder and judge him without a single sound. As the cashier approaches, the mother and child duo quickly scurry out the door, not wanting to test their luck. Soon with one quick movement the silence is broken. The only weapon in the entire store is pointed at the cashier. With a slow, calm mumble the vigilante speaks, “I want you to take all the money out of the register.” The man breathes heavily, seeming to catch his breath. “Once you have it, give it to me… AND! Don’t tell nobody.” The frightened teenage worker quickly nods his head in agreement. His hands shake as he has trouble to opening the cash register. He manages to open the drawer and pulls out the cash; the sound of quarters crashing to the floor resonates. He fumbles with the currency, finally handing it to the idiosyncratic man. All is still, and the two men just gaped at each other for a moment, which ends with a single twitch of a muscle fiber, with the knife-wielding hand swiping the air. It landed a killer blow on the cashier, who then crumples to the floor, and lets out a shriek of pain before breathing his last breaths. The criminal, now trying not to show sorrow for the man he just ended, turns and sees what he was dreading in his mind; a witness. Suddenly the murderer bursts out in tears and runs…
And runs…
And runs…
And runs…

Later that evening, our felonious man finds himself collapsed in a pile of rain soaked leaves, in the middle of a silent wood, without a sign of law enforcement anywhere. Thoughts engulf his mind, overwhelming him with deep, demonic, thoughts. He feels his heart racing, as every thought would fan the flames of his very soul. Enraged, the heartless man clenches his teeth and passes out…
“’Ey! You ok?” Spoke an echoing voice above his small leaf sanctuary.
“Sir, should I take ye to a hospital ‘r sum’n?” said the man with a drawl.
“NO!” yelled our villain in an almost instinctual response, upon awakening.
“Mm’kay” said the man, with a small amount of mistrust. “Now get up, ye look like a fool.” As the tunnel vision subsided, the criminal got up, slowly, but with full strength. “’Kay, now dat yer up, could ye please tell me wut yer name is, and why in da heck yer out here in the middle of dis woods. I’m a trying to live here ya know!”
“Sorry sir, but I don’t have a place to go.” He replied, “I kind of messed up.”
“Well wut ye do?” said the woodsman.
Then after a long silence, the felonious man replied. “…Well, I don’t really want to say right now. Maybe another time.”
“Mm’kay, we better get us some lunch, it’s been awhile since ye ate.”
The two unique men wandered past some small shrubs into an open area surrounded by large trees. In the middle was a small pile of ashes and a plastic seat. “Now dis is where I eat. Got some hot dogs and some matches, so we just got to gather up the fire wood,” he said, “And ‘afore I trust ye with fire, wut’s ye name?”
“My name’s Joe Dillinger.”
“Mm’kay, and ye should know I’m Franklin. Franklin Jones.” Soon their conversation ended, and they continued the project of picking up firewood; Joe gathering small sticks and Franklin gathering logs. When the sun hit the top of the sky at noon, the men were already roasting lunch. “Now...” Joe said as he was eating his hotdog, “why do you live out here?”
“Well, I don’t really like it out there in the city. Can’t find no job or nothin’, and ever’one judge ya out there. So I decided to come out here, only I go back when I run out of food or matches. I like it here though; ye can really see were we ‘riginally came from and get back to nature.” replied Franklin. Suddenly police sirens sounded on the back road surrounding the woods, eventually dying off in the distance. “Huh, dat’s odd, they don’t usually go down dat road.”
“Odd.” replied Joe.
They continued chattering while finishing their meager meal. Then they splashed some water over the fire, and kept walking. They followed a mellow dirt path, and conversed on normal topics such as weather and sports, just to gain that extra trust they still didn’t own. Finally, Franklin brought up the question that Joe feared. “’Kay, so I fed ye n’ all, now I really wanna know why yer here?”
“I’d really rather not tell. It’s personal.” he calmly replied. “Oh come on! Ain’t nothing too personal fer a man in da woods. I mean not ‘less you murdered… someone er sum’n….” he stated, getting slower with each word. He turned his head to Joe only to see his weeping self on his knees. “My kids needed food! My wife needed me! MY JOB needed me 1000 miles away! What was I supposed to do?! What would you do?!” as his raspy voice trailed off in tears. Franklin answered firmly, “Ask. Fer. Help. How ye think ye fam’ly would feel ‘bout ‘dis? Dat their dad, husband, ‘n’ friend murdered somebody?”
“You’re not helping!” Joe shouted, “I got nervous. I never wanted to do any of this, and it just so happened that it was my only choice to make my family happy!” He was now punching the ground angrily, until Franklin spoke in a calm voice. “Ye should turn yerself in… I only wanna help ye, ‘n’ I think if ye turned yerself in, the judge would go easier on ye, then ye could get back to yer fam’ly sooner. Yer life ain’t over… Ye just made a mistake.” The sympathetic words of Franklin made Joe look up, and through the emotionally driven pain, Joe cracked a smile. “Thanks…” Then he ever so gradually got up, and walked…
And walked…
And walked…
And walked…
“Hi, Nashville Police Department? Yes…” He paused swallowing his nerves, then continued, “I’d like to turn myself in for robbing a convenient store, and committing a homicide.” The uniformed woman behind the desk was taken aback. Her jaw dropped open, and quickly pulling herself together, she grabbed the handcuffs she kept in her drawer behind the window that separated them. She hesitantly opened the rusty door, and handcuffed him behind his back. Signaling with her hand, she called the other police officers at the station to take him into custody. “You’re doing a good thing here.” she calmly stated. “Good.” Joe thought to himself, realizing he hadn’t heard that word for a long time, and smiled for the second time that day.
“Dawn cracked a week later, along with the metal prison door Joe was contained in. He followed the old scrawny prison guard, crude thoughts of escaping crossed over his mind, but he pushed them away, thinking only blissful thoughts of his family. Days passed with the same pattern; wake up, testify, go to sleep. His desperation for the verdict grew every day, as did his boredom. Everything seemed to be normal during the trial, with the exception of when he spoke of the woodsman, and his large fire pit were he enjoyed a meal. The court seemed puzzled as if they didn’t know to believe him or not. Until one day the judge sighed and proclaimed, “There is no woodsman Joe. We searched everywhere. No fire pit, no man, nothing. We even have a witness that didn’t live far away from the woods. He went in the woods one day to set rabbit traps. He stated that he saw you talking, but no one was beside you.”
“No! That can’t be true, I swear, just look some more. He made me turn myself in!” Joe barked. His heart dropped into his gut, darkness surrounded his eyes, and passing out seemed inevitable, but Joe fought it off with willpower and anger. The judge’s gavel smashed against the hickory sound block. “Enough! I know you think you saw this man, but it may just be your mind messing with you. With the evidence that we have from the witness, the jury has reached a verdict. You are to serve five years of community service, and are committed to Vanderbilt Psychiatric Hospital during that time on account of insanity.” The gavel banged again, and the court was adjourned. Joe felt satisfied with the verdict, but at the same time devastated that someone thought he was insane…
He rested at the hospital. With his family at his side, he smiled, knowing he had made things right. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, thinking of the mysterious man in the woods, and then how he relocated back into reality…
Or did he?