In Memoriam, Veronica Davis: Story Time with Tim

Greetings and salutations, faithful reader! Welcome back to Story Time With Tim! The post where I share my old stories and offer up some new material! And, remember, all of these offerings are available up on Amazon Kindle if you go to my personal author’s page which I will post down below after the story has been told!

Okay, In Memoriam, Veronica Davis. This was originally known as Things That Go Bump In The Night but my best friend and brother from another mother was like, ‘Dude, you can come up with a better title than that.’ So, I did. I think this one works out pretty well. I can’t remember exactly why I wrote it, though. I think I was trying my hand at horror writing. Yeah, it isn’t bad and it certainly has those horror elements deep within its DNA. But, it is a little basic and seems to be like a movie of the week offering. However, so what? I always liked this one and I’m eager to share it with you now! So let’s not beat around the bush any longer! If there’s anything more you want to know about this next work, drop me a line in the comment board below and let’s discuss!

Without further ado, ‘In Memoriam, Veronica Davis’…


MORNINGS WERE NEVER Veronica’s favorite part of the day. In fact, she considered them quite annoying. Yet, she couldn’t just sleep through them for her sixty-five-year old body simply refused to let her. So, every day at six thirty, she woke up in a foul mood, got dressed in her finest clothing (generally a Victorian era full body dress with fluffy fringes), did up her hair into a French braid (trying her best to ignore the grey), and went to the grocery mart where she took great pride in pissing off the workers. There, everybody knew and dreaded her very name, Veronica Davis.

  It was a fine day, the sun was shining, nary a cloud was in sight and there was a crisp wind. Veronica put on her most dour expression and walked to the grocery mart that was only two blocks down the street from where she lived alone in her two story, Victorian style house.

  She didn’t own a car and felt she didn’t need one. Not since the only thing she really did was needlework out on her back porch, rocking in an old chair. Such an existence would have seemed lonely to anyone looking into her life, especially since she had never married and didn’t have any family to speak of (with the exception of two brothers she hadn’t seen in years). Yet, this was what she preferred, since she considered men idiots and other women wretches.

  Before long, Veronica entered the store where two young men saw her coming. She had extremely astute hearing and couldn’t help but pick up on the quip coming from one of the young men about her. She was sure he thought he was being quiet about it, but, just like most men, he was an idiot.

  “Quick, phone Cinderella. Tell her we’ve located her stepmother,” which prompted a snicker from the other.

  Veronica’s frown turned into a malicious scowl. Though, in years past, she may have found such a quip amusing, anymore she couldn’t stand the people around her.

  “Young man, I’m sure you think you’re being funny, but I do not. That’s what’s wrong with kids these days, no respect for their elders. I wonder if you would be amused if I pulled down your britches and gave you a spanking right here in the middle of the store?” She let anger creep into her voice as a slight smile cracked the edges of her lips.

  “Uh… no ma’am,” the young man said, doing his best not to smile.

  She could tell he didn’t take her seriously. He was, after all, a man in his twenties. But, before she could vent about grown men acting like children, the store manager rushed over. He had heard the quietly spoken (yet still uncalled for) remark and seen the scenario playing out where they stood.

  “Charlie, that was extremely inappropriate! I apologize, Ms. Davis. Sometimes he doesn’t have the sense he was born with,” the manager placated with a sincere smile.

  “That is something all men suffer from, Mr. Mallory. If you wish to continue receiving my loyal patronage, I suggest teaching these ruffians some manners,” she pointed her finger at him and walked off.

  “Wooa… not only does she look like the wicked stepmother, but she sounds like her too,” she heard the younger man say quietly to Charlie once he assumed she was out of earshot.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you two!?” Mr. Mallory chastised them with a hushed exclamation.

  Veronica paused, but didn’t look back at the men yammering at one another. She knew the two young men would only be given a stern talking to, as they were both sons of Mr. Mallory. She continued on her way, knowing that these were just a small portion of a town that despised her very existence. She recognized this fact and didn’t mind. What it meant was that people left her alone, and alone was what she wanted to be.

THE REST OF the day passed uneventfully as Veronica returned home and spent the day on her back porch. That night, she had some hot tea and got dressed for bed in a cotton nightgown. She turned out the light to her bedroom, got into bed, and pulled the sheets and comforter to her chest. Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply, turned over onto her side, and started to drift off into slumber. Tomorrow was another day.

  A thumping sound sent a shiver up her spine and she opened her eyes to lay there motionless. She stared towards her closet, seeing only dark shadows. Seconds passed, but the sound didn’t repeat. She shook her head and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Closing her eyes, yet again, Veronica drifted back off to sleep.

  The thumping returned in force and went ‘thump, thump, thump’. Veronica’s heart pounded in rhythm to the thump and she sat up with a start. The sound had ceased, but it was like something had been banging against loose wood.

  “Who’s there!?” she called out, her breathing quickening in pace. “You little hoodlums! This isn’t funny!”

  Veronica sat there, upright. She stared through the barely lit room, darkness surrounding her, straining to hear so much as a pin drop, but hearing nothing outside of the buzzing silence in her ears. She suddenly wished she kept the curtains to her massive windows open at night. At least, the heavy curtains. The thin curtains would have been fine while still allowing moonlight to flow into the room. As it was, there was only a thin crack where the curtains met allowing a sliver of light to enter the room in a thin veil across the floor and her bed.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  There it is again! What the hell is it!? Thoughts raced through her head as she slowly slid out from underneath her bed spread and placed her feet onto the floor. It was then she noticed light streaming in from the bottom of the bathroom door that was connected to her room. She always made sure the bathroom door was shut and that the light was out. However, that night, it was on.

  Veronica stood there, staring at the light under the door, swearing to high heavens that she turned it out. She was about to move towards the door when a shadow passed over the crack from within the bathroom.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Something was in there and it was banging against the door!

  “Who’s in there!?” she screamed.

  The shadow covering most of the crack stopped and seemed to almost roll away from the door. The sound stopped and veronica felt her pulse racing so hard she could hear the blood flowing in her head.

  “Stop playing games, you bastard!” she shouted at the disappearing shadow and heard only silence in response.

  Agitated, Veronica turned on the bedroom light and rushed out into the hallway. She opened the door to the utility closet across the hall and grabbed a club from a golf bag within that had belonged to her father. She then ran back into her bedroom and slung open the bathroom door without hesitation.

  “All right, you little heathen, come on…!!”

  Veronica stared at the bathroom interior and saw no one. The window was closed and locked. Nothing was rolling around on the floor. The door to the shower was shut…

  Ahha… she thought and opened the shower door, raising the club she wielded. However, the shower was empty as well.

  “What the hell?” she said and let her hand holding the club drop to her side.

  The bathroom was empty of occupants as if no one or thing had been in there since she last had been. She walked over to the sink and ran some cold water. She set the club to the side and used both her hands to splash cold water on her face. Rinsing the coolness over her visage and turning off the water, she looked into the mirror. A haggard expression stared back at her.

  “I must be losing my mind,” she said to her reflection and dried her face with a towel hanging on a nearby rack.

  Nerves wracked and on edge, Veronica turned out the bathroom light and returned to bed, leaving the bathroom door open. She lay down and covered up, casting a wary glance back towards the dark bathroom. She continued staring until her eyes grew heavy with sleep and she drifted off into a fitful and uneasy slumber.

“AND HOW DID you sleep last night, Ms. Davis?” Mr. Mallory queried the next morning.

  “How do you mean!?” Veronica shot back, suspicious of the question. “Why would you ask me that!?”

  He stood there by the fruits staring at the old woman, not sure of how he should be replying. He shook his head at Veronica’s penetrating gaze.

  “I just meant that, with such a nice house, of which I understand the Davis’s have owned for nearly two-hundred years, right? …That, you’d have a comfortable sleep. I, I thought it would be polite to ask, that’s all,” the words stumbled from his mouth in an avalanche of uncertainty.

  Veronica stared at him coolly and then finished gathering some apples and oranges. He stood there while she did so, not wishing to offend her further. She brushed past the man with a huff and barely looked at him.

  “It’s none of your business how I sleep,” she replied, sticking her nose slightly into the air.

  “Right. Well, you have a nice day,” he smiled pleasantly at her retreating back.

  It was true that the house Veronica lived in had been built by her great, great grandfather almost two-hundred years before. Warrington Davis had been a highly respected man in his day around town. As had his son and his son’s son, her father. Each of those men probably would have frowned upon the lack of respect Veronica managed to receive. As she reflected on this, she realized she probably earned every bit of the harsh words spoken about her, but she really didn’t care what people thought of her.

SHE RETURNED HOME and did the same thing she always did and had some tea before turning in for the night.

  When she entered her bedroom, she decided to check on the condition of the bathroom. Everything was as it should have been. So, she refreshed herself and turned off the lights, closing the door as she headed to bed. Switching off the bedroom lights, she glanced at the curtains she left open with only the thin curtains drawn shut. She was pleased to note that a good amount of moonlight was flowing through those curtains, bathing her room in a light shade of white blue. She wasn’t thrilled with having to do so, but the events from the night before still had her on edge.

  That fool Mallory and his two sons had better not be responsible for that… she angrily thought and got into bed. She lay her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. She listened for any sounds at all but only heard the slight chirping of crickets outside the windows of her bedroom. The rest was silence, which she was thankful for. Soon, she started falling asleep.

  Her eyes went wide as she caught her breath and felt a sensation like her soul slamming back into her body. Her heart was racing.

  Was that a sound? Veronica realized she hadn’t heard anything at all and that it was just her subconscious mind playing tricks on her. She shut her eyes yet again and sighed, allowing sweet bliss to overcome her as she laid on her back and breathed slowly to bring her heartrate back down.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Veronica opened her eyes and stared up at a dark ceiling.  She couldn’t have heard anything, could she have? A tension returned to her body.

  Was that…? No, it’s nothing…

  Thump. Bump. Thump.

  Bump. Bump. Thump.

  A second bumping sound accompanied the thumping against the bathroom door. Veronica sat up in a panic and pulled the sheets up to her chin.

  “No… please God…” she whispered, staring at the bathroom door.

  She leaned over the edge of the bed to see the crack of the door, for she couldn’t see it from where she sat upright against the headboard and pillow. As she feared, the bathroom light was on and that shadow was there again. Only this time, it sounded like there were two somethings hitting each other and then the door. The manic wrestling of whatever was behind the door, prompted Veronica to close her eyes. It was a terrible sound. What she imagined two water logged and knotty logs would sound like if they came to life in order to pound on one another in the bathroom.

  Cold beads of sweat ran down her back, face, neck, and chest, saturating her night gown. She shivered uncontrollably, hearing that sound continue on and on for what seemed like an eternity.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Bump. Bump. Thump.

  Thump. Bump. Thump.

  And then the sound stopped. Veronica dared not open her eyes for several long moments as she prayed like she never prayed before. After a long silence, she opened her eyes and looked at the door. The shadows were gone but the light was still on.

  Veronica swallowed hard and slowly inched off the bed. Step by step, she walked towards the bathroom door. Along the way, she flipped on the bedroom light and grabbed the golf club she left near the dresser. She reached for the bathroom knob and froze, listening for any kind of sound. When none issued forth, she slowly opened the door. A slight creaking moan was made as the door swung open and she saw nothing and nobody.

  Sobbing heaves hit her chest as she lowered herself to the floor where she stood, still holding the door knob with her left hand. Tears flowed from her eyes and she couldn’t let go as she dropped down onto the calves of her legs.  Her right hand tried to wipe away the tears she cried.

  “I can’t take any more of this!!” she screamed. “Why is this happening!?”

  She remained on the bathroom floor, weeping throughout the night.

DARK BAGS OF skin hung under Veronica’s eyes and no amount of makeup could hide that fact. Yet, even as she walked into the store, after the second night of restless sleep, she wasn’t concerned with what people would think. She just wanted to get a quart of milk and go home. Though, she was enjoying being home less and less.

  “She’s been there for like two hours,” Charlie commented to his brother as they watched Veronica standing by the front window staring out at nothing.

  I just came for milk… then I’ll leave… However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the store. The voices of people were comforting to her after two days of anguish.

  “Why don’t you go over and say something to her?” Charlie’s brother inquired.

  “…Why do you torture me?” Charlie responded and walked over to where Veronica stood listening to their hushed voices. “Hello, Ms. Davis? Are you all right? You’ve just been standing there for so long, I…”

  “I’m fine. Mind your own business!” she snapped, not bothering to look at the young man.

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture implying he didn’t mean to offend her. She stood for a moment and then looked at him, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. Her jaw was firmly set as she sauntered over to the checkout counter and thumped the quart of milk she’d been holding onto the countertop.

  “Here, you can check me out. Well!? Don’t just stand there!” she ordered and pulled a checkbook from the handbag she was carrying.

  Charlie went behind the counter and began to ring the milk up. As he grabbed the quart and felt the temperature.

  “It appears that your milk has gotten warm. Let me get you another one,” he said.

  “Fine. Just hurry up,” she responded with a huff, her voice warmer than it had been.

HALF AN HOUR later, Veronica found herself standing on the sidewalk in front of her property looking at the house she had lived in for sixty-five years. A swift wind blew causing her dress to hug her snugly.

  Everything is going to be fine. You can’t be afraid of your own house. A house that has seen three generations of Davis’s grow up in it. Can you? She took a deep breath. Not wanting her milk to spoil, she worked up the nerve to walk up to her front door.

  The two-story house stood stoically amidst a bright green yard surrounded by a virtual forest of thick trees with Veronica finally walking up the front path. She couldn’t help but find the house a little menacing, but she hoped and felt that that night would be different.

AGAIN, THE TIME came for Veronica to get ready for bed. Again, she checked the bathroom and found nothing. This time, though, she left the door open when she turned out the lights and went to bed. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the crickets chirp outside her window that she had opened up earlier. A soft breeze rippled through the thin curtains covering the open window.

  Moonlight streamed in and bounced off the walls. For the first time in days, all seemed peaceful. Cautiously, she allowed her eyelids to close. Sleep came quickly and she started to feel relaxed. Crickets continued to serenade her as she drifted further into the subconscious realm of dreams.

  Creak. Fwoomp.

  Veronica opened her eyes to the sound of a door closing.  The crickets went silent and panic filled her soul once again.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Rage began to fill her body overcoming the total fear enveloping her existence. She was sick and tired of this irritating noise. Especially knowing that what she should have done was left the house. Sold it. Moved away and been done with the place.

  No. I’m not going to let some noises drive me out, let alone insane! What I should have done was called in an exorcist!

  Bump. Bump. Thump.

  “That’s it! I’ve had it!” she screamed and leapt out of bed.

  She ignored the club and the feeling of dread screaming to just get out of the house. She rushed towards the bathroom where the shadows moved ominously beneath the crack and slung the door open.

  “What in the hell are you…!?” she stopped in mid-sentence and let loose a blood-curdling scream that rang out from her open windows and echoed through the neighborhood.

  Veronica stood there in the doorway, her right hand to her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn’t control the sobs that broke forth as she slowly backed up from the bathroom where pools of blood painted the floor, the bathtub, the sink, mirrors, and toilet. On the floor, rolling around spastically and wrapped up in bed sheets, were two decapitated, limbless corpses rolling into each other.

  Heaving breathes barely kept contained another scream she was ready to unleash. And then she looked down to see the blood covered butcher knife she held in her left hand.

  “Oh my God!” she shouted and couldn’t contain another high-pitched wail.

  Her dress was covered in blood. She cast another wide-eyed glance at the corpses rolling into one another with streams of blood pouring from where heads used to be attached to their necks. Veronica turned away and ran out of her bedroom and downstairs, nearly falling in the process.

  “This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening! Is this real!?” she sobbed and backed up onto her couch in the downstairs living room as she stared back at the main stairwell.

  A sick, slopping sound echoed down the open staircase from the second story hall. She continued staring and absently wiped her hands on her night gown. A knock sounded at the front door, startling her from her shock.

  Uncertain of what to do, she decided to answer the door. She swung it wide and was greeted by two police officers.

  “Evening, Ma’am. We’re sorry to disturb you, but we’ve received reports of really loud screams coming from this residence. We just wanted to make sure everything’s all right,” the first officer spoke, looking her in the eyes.

  She stood staring at the two, breathing heavily and getting a firmer grip on a blanket wrapped around her shoulders that she’d pulled from the back of the couch. She didn’t remember having grabbed it and felt a puzzled expression hit her face.  She glanced at the badges on the police officers’ uniforms and noticed that the one speaking to her was named Edmonds and his partner was Stevenson.

  “May we come in?” Stevenson inquired with a worried look.

  “Y, yes, of course,” she replied and let them inside.

  They followed her to the middle of the living room where she sat back down onto the couch. Her hair was a tattered mess and she looked confused. The officers looked at one another as she stared vacantly at the floor.

  “Are you all right?” Edmonds asked. “You look a little ill.”

  Veronica looked up at the man, still breathing heavily.  Panic still eating at her. And then she heard them upstairs.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Bump. Bump. Thump.

  Her eyes went wide as she stared up the stairs.

  “Ma’am? Can we help you? Did you scream?” Stevenson asked her as he walked closer to the couch and Edmonds followed Veronica’s gaze to the top of the stairs.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Bump. Bump. Thump.

  Don’t they hear them!? she wondered as sweat was oozing from every pore. The officers noticed this and she saw Edmonds reaching for the CB on his shoulder.

  “…We’re going to need a medic at this residence…” he started quietly, but Veronica didn’t really pay attention to him.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Bump. Bump. Thump.

  Were they getting closer to the stairs? She thought it sounded like they might be heading that way. Her head turned and looked at every corner of the room as her eyesight darted wildly from side to side.

  “Ma’am, we’re going to get you some help,” Stevenson said, touching her on the shoulder.

  Veronica couldn’t handle it anymore and jumped to her feet, tossing off her blanket. Stevenson got to his feet and held out his hands, trying to calm her down.

  “Ok, calm down, Ma’am.”

  “I admit it! I did it! I killed them! See!?” she shouted turning around to show them her bloodstained clothing.

  The officers looked to one another as they watched her spread her arms.

  “Ok. What did you do?” Edmonds inquired.

  “Don’t you see the blood…” she questioned, looking down at her night gown. 

  “Blood?” Stevenson asked and looked to his partner in concern.

  “…from the bodies!” Veronica replied, feeling frightened.

  “What bodies, Ma’am?” Stevenson calmly asked.

  “The two bodies! In the bathroom in my bedroom! I killed them! I must have! Their blood was all over my clothes and the bathroom floor! It’s horrible!” she screamed and cried.

  “All right. All right. Where is the bathroom?” Edmonds questioned, managing to convince her to sit back down.

  “U,upstairs, the end of the hall on the right. They’re there, I tell you,” she replied, looking up helplessly to the man.

  “All right. Mike, there’s an ambulance on the way. I’ll go check out the bathroom. Ma’am,” Stevenson said to her.

  “Veronica,” she informed him, feeling very uneasy.

  “Veronica, Mike is going to stay with you while I go check out the bathroom,” he continued. “Ok?”

  “Ok,” she sobbed in response.

  Stevenson proceeded up the stairs while Edmonds remained with Veronica. Minutes later, Stevenson returned from upstairs.

  “What a crime,” he quipped with a smile.

  “What do we have?” Edmonds inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

  “Oh, just the cleanest bathroom I’ve ever seen. Veronica, I’ve checked all the rooms upstairs, but there are no bodies.  Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?” Stevenson spoke as he neared the couch where she sat.

  “Nightmare? No, they’re there! It was real!” she shouted, standing to her feet.

  “Ok, I believe you. We’re going to get you to the hospital though to make sure you’re feeling all right,” he continued as the woman darted past him and up the stairs. “Veronica!”

  Veronica ran to the bathroom and found it empty. She stood there staring at the room in disturbed perplexity. Moments later the two officers were beside her.

  “See… nothing here. Now, let’s go back downstairs,” Stevenson took her by her shoulders and guided her back towards the bedroom door.

  “But… they, they were there! Where… Wait… I know! I buried them!” she blurted suddenly.

  “You buried them? And where did you bury them?” Stevenson questioned wearily.

  “The, the basement! I buried them in the basement! I, I remember now…” she replied, her eyes glazed with exhaustion.

  “You just killed them and you already buried them in the basement?” Edmonds commented dryly.

  “Yes… no… I killed them… before…” she mumbled incoherently.

  “Before?  When before?” Stevenson asked as they headed towards the stairs.

  “I, I …don’t remember… but, it was before…” she stuttered in confusion.

  “Ok, we’ll have someone look into that,” Stevenson said.

“…THE THUMPING, THE thumping, the bump, bump, bumping… fwumping at my bathroom door…” Veronica mumbled and steadily rocked back and forth in her rocking chair and stared out her room’s window at the forest beyond.

  Not far behind her stood Mr. Simon Mallory holding a vase of flowers. He watched her in a trance and fought to say something, anything. Instead, he just stood there until the orderly entered the room and came up beside him. The orderly pursed his lips and placed his fists on his hips and listened to Veronica’s murmurings.

  “Poor ole bird…”

  Simon found his voice, “Wh, wh, what happened to her?”

  The orderly gave a wry expression and looked up at Simon, “Are you sure you want to know? I mean, no-one’s one hundred percent certain, but it’s a crazy story nonetheless.”

  “…Tell me.”

  “Well, alright,” the orderly smiled and spoke. Veronica didn’t seem to notice. “Apparently, the cops were called to her house back in June after neighbors reported a loud, piercing scream.

  “They arrived to find her hysterical and muttering something about bloody corpses rolling around her bathroom. She claims she murdered them and buried them in the basement.”

  Simon looked at the orderly with wide eyes and then back at Veronica who continued her mutterings.

  “She… m, m, murdered people!?”

  The orderly laughed, “Ah no, mate! She thought she did! Police investigators found nothing. She kept saying they were in the basement, though. That AFTER claiming they were rolling around her loo, she buried them down there. The cops being the cops were obligated to check it out, o’course. You want to know the funny thing?”

  After a moment, Simon looked at him, “Do tell.”

  “The police DID find two bodies in the basement. As headless and limbless as Ms. Davis was describing.”

  Simon was taken aback, “So, she did murder two people…”

  He looked back at her but a strange thought was coming to him then. A familiar recollection brought on by this recounting. A story he remembered hearing when he was a child. From his grandfather.

  “Oh, hell no!” the orderly replied. “What they discovered about those remains was that they were around one hundred and fifty years old. Round abouts. ‘Sides, they were ‘buried’ under ‘bout eight feet o’concrete ‘n dirt. Don’ know how they found dem corpses, maybe some ground penetration radar or something, but they did.”

  A paleness came to Simon’s face as he stood still, the vase trembling in his hands. Grandfather…

  “…How did she know?”

  The orderly chuckled, “Who knows. She’s gone off her rocker. Maybe an old story she heard from someone. Regardless, those bodies hadn’t been disturbed in quite some time. Anyway, after the breakdown, they brought her here and we’re her new home. Isn’t that right, Veronica?”

  “…The thumping, the thumping…” she replied.

  Mr. Mallory wanted to collapse. He felt sweat beading on his brow. He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible.

  Grandfather… you knew…

  He was ten years old and playing in the wide back yard when he’d first been told. His grandfather walked out and smiled at him then took a seat on a bench they had out there. He watched Simon play for a bit before Simon got a strange feeling and looked back at his grandfather. The elder Mallory waggled his finger as if to summon him and grinned broadly. There was a deep, welling fear in him but Simon went to his grandfather anyway. He sat down and leaned back on the bench as his grandfather straightened and put his hands on his cane.

  “Simon, you’re a good kid, you know that?” Simon nodded absently as his grandfather put a hand on his back. “Yeah, I know you are. And good kids know how to keep family secrets. What I’m going to share with you, you can’t tell your pa. He isn’t one of us. You understand?”

  Simon looked at him with a confused expression but nodded anyway. His grandfather seemed satisfied and rubbed Simon’s shoulder.

  “Good. Good. I remember when I was a child. Oh, about your age, I suppose. That was the time I discovered the secret. You see, there were these two people. And they kept poking into my Pa’s business and trespassing on his property. These two had got it in their heads that something was amiss within our neck of the woods. So, Mr. Davis, you know the Davis’s, right?”

  Simon nodded feeling a tight sensation in his chest. His grandfather leaned forward and clasped his hands together on his cane.

  “Well, Mr. Davis, the elder, Warrington, decided enough was enough and, heh, invited those snoopers inside for a conversation. I was there, you know. Saw it all. He took care of ‘em real good.”

  Simon stood up then and took a step back away from his grandfather. His grandfather hardly seemed to notice as he continued staring wistfully at nothing.

  “I know how to take care of problems too. Like that Irish bug down the way.” His grandfather looked up at him with an eerie smile. “You like Irish, Simon? Course you do. You’re half Irish yourself thanks to that father of yours. But Irish meats, though, they’re savory as all get out. Mix ‘em with potatoes and they’re to die for. You ever had Irish meat, Simon? Got some down in the cellar if you’d like to try some.”

  Simon panicked and ran away. He could hear his grandfather’s laughter chasing him all the way to the house and could feel his smile mocking him, taunting him, daring him.

  Oh my god! Simon Mallory thought. It was you! All of you!

  He didn’t want to know why or how. He just had a sudden urge to run away. That was when Veronica stopped mumbling and tossed her gaze his way. Her mouth was hanging open and all the judgment in the world was upon him. He turned then and almost stumbled on her bed forgetting that he had the vase in his hands. He went to the dresser and placed it on top.

  “Are you alright?” the orderly asked as Simon headed out the door as fast as his feet would carry him.

  “I… I don’t know…”

  As he took to the hall, he heard Veronica start again and knew that she’d turned back to the window to continue her long, vacant stare.

  It was her fathers, too… All of them… He quickened his pace towards the front doors and vowed to move away from this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. They could all keep their secrets.

  “The thumping, the thumping… the bump, bump, bumping… fwumping at my bedroom door…”

Alright! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this latest tale! Let me know your feelings below and come back next Friday for more Story Time With Tim!

~Timothy S Purvis

Don’t forget to check out where else you can find this tale and support the cause!

Tales From A Strange Mind:



Also check out my latest offerings at my author’s page:

As well as Tales From A Strange Mind Volume Two, the novellas at:

One thought on “In Memoriam, Veronica Davis: Story Time with Tim

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s