Cleve is dead!

Mr. Cleveland – everyone called him Cleve – lay sprawled on the gray slate patio by the pool outside the French doors at the rear of the house.  Dressed in his favorite red, black and white Hawaiian shirt, baggy Bermuda shorts and flip flops. He could be relaxing, on a tropical beach. But he’s dead.  A bloody crimson halo, painted on the cool slate pallet, crowns his head. His eyes stare up at the house.  The eerie blue light…

“Natural Causes” by Gary Neil Gupton (from Chapter 2)

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