Town Proper II
by
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I did a fast clean-up tonight because I wanted to get home and start writing. The town seems to be coming apart at the seams. Everyone has a story to tell and seems to be telling it. Is it the full moon or the alignment of the planets freeing up all their inhibitions? I think the town is on the brink of something catastrophic.
Some new guy is in town, but I think I’ve seen him before. I think he’s a gumshoe detective. He’s been in here twice this week. Rory Lang was in with someone earlier this week and this guy seemed to be watching them.
Mercedes and Dave Goldman were in. He talks all the time. She just sits there, looks at him with contempt. The gumshoe was here that night, also. Dave had left the table and Mercedes was alone. Well this guy goes over to the table, but just that quickly Dave came back and the guy turned on his heels and was off, but I could have sworn Mercedes and he made eye contact. That lady is scary, one to watch. She makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up straight.
“The Judge” and some of his friends were in talking about a hunting trip they’re planning. He talked about his guns, something for every occasion. He’s a real gun nut.
Warren Bass was in talking about some big deals. He counts the bank’s money and his own in the same pile.
I need to get out of this town. Need to get some fresh air. A vacation is over-due. I miss you Kate.
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But then again, if you knock on the Devil’s door, it opens, and you cross that threshold, no one really knows what a menacing outcome may await.
There were two pictures of babies (probably two or three months old) and on the back an inscription: My two sons, Joe and Rory. I love you.
Mrs. Coleridge started by saying, “I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time, Joe. I’m happy it’s finally here. It’s time to rid myself of secrets I’ve kept so many years.”
After a few words from the clergy, it was time to lower the casket. Mercedes with her daughter and granddaughter by her side placed a single rose on it and in a soft voice vowed, “Our secret will never be revealed; nothing will taint the memory of our time together; I will kill first.”
In college she was a fierce competitor and graduated with high honors, but few friends. She always found someone’s Achilles heel and took advantage, and with no conscience going right for the throat. Just like her father.”
About the Author
Patrick Avington is the pen name of the writing team of Marsha Patrick and Dorothy Avington.
Marsha Patrick was born and raised in
Dorothy Avington earned both her Bachelor and Master of education degrees and spent several “great” years teaching.