Chapter 8: The Falling Oak

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This entry is part 8 of 13 in the series My Stepmother Chased Me Off My Father's Farm After My Release from Prison — But the Cemetery Caretaker Had a Key My Father Left Behind

My Stepmother Chased Me Off My Father's Farm After My Release from Prison — But the Cemetery Caretaker Had a Key My Father Left Behind

Chapter 1: The Gates of Dunbar Farm

Chapter 2: The Coroner’s Ledger

Chapter 10: The Sealed Envelope

Chapter 11: The Father’s Voice

Chapter 13: The Kitchen Table

Before Raymond could even make a move, before Julian could utter another word, the world exploded.

A colossal bolt of lightning, thicker and brighter than any I had ever seen, tore through the black sky. It struck the ancient white oak tree with a horrifying, sickening CRACK that reverberated through my very bones.

The mighty tree, a symbol of permanence on the Dunbar farm, split violently down its trunk. One of its colossal branches, thick as a car, snapped clean off.

Time seemed to slow. I watched, helpless, as the massive timber arced through the air, groaning and splintering. It was heading directly for the wooden shed where Evelyn stood, still clutching her papers, still trying to light a flame.

“EVELYN!” Julian screamed, his voice ripped by the wind, but it was too late.

The branch hit.

It struck the shed with a deafening, pulverizing crash, obliterating the flimsy structure in an instant. Wood splintered, dust and debris exploded outwards. The roof collapsed inwards, a chaotic mess of burning timber and twisted metal.

A flash of orange from the lightning strike, then the glow of fire, erupted from within the crushed remains.

Evelyn was beneath it.

She had been standing exactly where the branch struck, and now she was trapped, pinned under blazing beams and heavy debris. A choked cry, half-scream, half-gasp, cut through the din of the storm, then silence.

Raymond, who had been paralyzed by the sudden, violent impact, instinctively dropped his shotgun and fled for the relative cover of his truck, his face ashen. Julian stood frozen in shock, rooted to the spot, his mouth open, a strangled sound caught in his throat.

Smoke billowed from the wreckage, mingling with the relentless sheets of rain. The fire, fed by the dry wood of the shed and fueled by the storm’s destructive energy, began to spread.

My stepmother, the woman who had framed me, who had lied about my father, who had turned my family against me, was burning alive.