Carl Blackflower was approaching 50 years old, unmarried, no children, with a history of anti-social behavior. There were no close neighbors, but those who lived within a mile radius viewed him as odd, a loner, and always obtaining "strange" objects and muttering weird things to people around him.
In the hours that the police were there, a small crowd of those distant neighbors had come around, and although the officers kept them far back to ensure that the crime scene wouldn’t be disrupted, the nosy neighbors remained, looking on in horror. Officer Smith didn’t have any problem getting them to tell everything they knew about this weird neighbor of theirs.
One such neighbor, a tall, gangly man in his mid-thirties with a ripped T-shirt and dingy jeans reported, "Yeah, I heard him talking to himself many a time, going on and on about some destiny that he was meant for. A lot of people thought he was some kind of warlock, and he was always looking for weird ingredients to make potions."
Another neighbor, an old woman with a pot belly, silver hair and snagged teeth who’d lived on that stretch of land for years, heard what was going on and chimed in, “Yes he was up to something terrible. I knew it! I’ve seen him more than once chanting around an open fire out here as I drove by. He was in his full native dress, blue paint across his face with war stripes and all kinds of marks on his body.”
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