The thing is, officer, I was only passing through the park. It wasn’t like I came here to do anything. The swings and slides don’t really appeal to me, these days. I mean, they’re for the kids, aren’t they? No, please don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m walking through a park with children running around doesn’t mean I’m a... you know. Anyway, there were no kids. Too early, I suppose. I guess it was just the two of us.

I was walking along the path between the lake and the trees when I saw him standing on the grass verge, alone. At first, I took him to be the park keeper taking care of the grounds, mainly because of the chainsaw he was holding. But then it dawned on me that he wasn’t wearing a uniform; just jeans and a shirt. He looked troubled, and appeared to be talking to the trees. So I started walking faster, hoping he wouldn’t pay me any attention.

That’s when he noticed me and ran over. He was a little hunched over because of the weight of the chainsaw, which he hadn’t yet started up. I was about to turn round when he asked me the question.

He motioned towards that oak tree over there. That’s right, the one on its own. He asked me if I thought it looked odd, if I could see anything wrong with it.

I was more concerned with the thing he had cradled in his arms like a baby, but I glanced over anyway. I just saw a tree, that’s all, but it did occur to me that it was the only tree in the park without any leaves on its branches, as though it were winter. Rather funny that, it being July and all. Anyway, I didn’t want to encourage him, so I said that, no, I didn’t.

“Look at the branches,” he said. So I looked back over, and pretended to consider the branches themselves, narrowing my eyes for the effect. The bare limbs looked like skeletal fingers, sharp and wicked-looking. Not a single leaf on any of them. In fact, you can still see a few dead leaves scattered on the ground beneath the tree.

I shook my head a little, and shrugged.

He sighed, then, and shook his head, as if in despair. “I’m the only one who seems to be able to see it,” he said.

“See what?” I asked him. His face was haggard and unshaven. I don’t think he had washed or changed his clothes for a while. And it was apparent from his breath that he’d been drinking.

He looked at me, as impassively as you are right now, and gripped that nasty implement of his. His knuckles turned white. To say I was frightened would be the understatement of the century.

I was about to run for it; get some help. Wish I had, now. Maybe it wouldn’t have been too late and he’d never have done what he did.

But a change came over him. His eyes welled up, all shiny and sad. He went on: “He wanted to climb a tree, that’s all. Every boy has to climb a tree at some point, so I thought, what the hell, why not? And I’d be watching him. He was pretty good at it, too. He gripped the branches tightly, like a little monkey. Didn’t take any risks. He broke his neck when he fell. But I swear to God, he was pushed.”

Well, what could I say? The man was torn with grief, or was living out some kind of fantasy, and was eager to take it out on something. I tried to reason with him; told him that it wasn’t worth doing anything silly. I backed away slightly. He sniggered and looked at me as though he pitied me, then said, “The Devil has many faces, my friend.” He hefted the chainsaw and marched towards the tree. He muttered something about it smiling at him; said that he was going to wipe the grin off its face.

He looped his arm through the strap on the chainsaw, and slung it over his shoulder, then started climbing the tree. He got halfway to the top; that’s when I heard the chainsaw come to life. He crawled up the branches like a sloth, cutting at the ones in the middle. I tried to coax him down, but I don’t think he heard me over the buzzing. I was left standing there like a bloody idiot.

All of a sudden, he was screaming. “Get off me!” he cried. “Let go of me.” I didn’t have a great vantage point, but from where I was, it looked as though a breeze was bending some of the branches around him, clawing at him, even though it didn’t seem that windy to me. The chainsaw flew out of the tree and landed on the grass, where it continued buzzing. He followed it.

Of course, I would have done something sooner if I could. But I was in shock. Still am. I just stood there, frozen, while he lay sprawled over the spinning blade. He jerked up and down like he was having a fit, or something. It probably seems weird to you, but I had the feeling that he was still conscious at the time, and just let it happen. Maybe he wanted it that way.

I ran over to him, eventually, when the shock wore off a bit. His body was still jolting when I pulled him off the chainsaw, which I wrenched off the ground and threw to the side. His chest was... shredded, open, gushing. That’s how I got all of this blood on me.

I ran for help, and then came here to wait for the ambulance. I couldn’t help looking back at his body, strewn under the tree like a heap of rubbish. It was horrible. Honestly, I had no idea he was still alive when they took him away. Otherwise, I would have stayed with him, wouldn’t I?

But I can see what he meant about the tree. It’s all in the detail, you see, interwoven in the branches, like a patchwork quilt. If you know what to look for, you can determine the features: the slanted eyes, the pointed chin; and those branches meeting at the top look at like horns to me. That mouth is definitely curving upwards.

Don’t you see it?

No? I suppose it’s down to perspective, or something.

What’s that, officer? Sorry, I was mumbling for a second. I didn’t hear you.

He died on the way to the hospital? Shit.

Hey, what’s with the handcuffs? Wait a minute! It was me who fucking called you!

No, you don’t have to repeat yourself again. I understand my rights.