I hate people because this could happen.

A Story by Misanthrope

A story of a grizzly murder, and something that just wasn't quite right. Flash fiction.

    The police were appalled when they arrived on the scene of the crime. The young girl's head had been smashed open. Bits of blood and brain matter had been liberally splashed about the room, and as if that wasn't enough, she had been violently beaten with a large, blunt object.

Later, they would find bits of her father's skin under her fingernails, and she died with a few strands of his hair in her hands. It didn't matter, then. They knew that much. But at that moment, they wanted a weapon, and so they searched the house.

    When they got to the garage, they were greeted by a solitary, blood-soaked mini-palm tree. That was strange, but they took it in as evidence.

    Then they did the testing. It was easy to match the skin and hair samples; they were in his house, after all.

    So they put out a warrant for his arrest, because he's been missing and the mother reported the murder.

And then his body turned up.

"Dear God," one of the officers said. "We've been following... Planted evidence."