It was the loud silence that announced her death. Every dawn of the day, her greetings to her neighbors usually cascade down her balcony. The old soldier’s grandchildren will chorus their greetings, and the young couples on the right bungalow will wave with a morning smile.
That Thursday was different. The grandchildren waited in vain for Jolie’s greeting before their school bus arrived.
They continue to stare at the balcony waiting to catch a glimpse of her as their bus driver rave-up the vehicle.
The young couple’s morning was similarly not complete. They loitered their Veranda with eyes fixed to the now illuminated and void yard. Her Rottweiler didn’t echo her greetings as usual. The familiar barks that mimicks Jolie’s “Good morning” was mute.
She stares at the couples. As she walks to the back and forth spaces. An unusual fidgeting of sort.
Mrs. Timmy swore she saw a teardrop.
Her husband waves her off despite his conviction.
“Something is wrong”
“Not again”
Mrs. Timmy walked towards Jolie’s pedestrian gate. It was left ajar.
The Rottweiler was at the gate when she opened it. This is the same mammal she dreads so much that made her rarely visit Jolie.
Not today.
She pushes through the metallic gate and follows her fear. The ‘beast’ leads the way as she ghostly does trail behind it.
The front door was left open. The creaking door that leads to the stairs brought the ominous sight. Her husband shouted startling Mrs. Timmy.
“Jesus!”
“Poor Jolie”
The beast lay beside the sprawling figure in the pool of her blood.
The foot of the staircase was colored red so much that Mrs. Timmy became limped.
“Jolie is gone” she concludes without using her stethoscope.
…TO BE CONTINUED.
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