The next morning, I was woken,

By a quite familiar voice,

And a nurse replying to it,

With, “Room one twelve, Mr Denoy”,

Then footsteps coming down the hall,

Chilled me to the bone,

For I knew, if he was at the hospital,

He would not be there alone.

So I began pulling out the tubes and wires,

That monitored my health,

And called for the policeman guarding me,

But found I was by myself.

He’d later claim he’d only gone,

Down the hallway for a drink,

But if that’s true , I have to say,

His timing really stinks.

For I’d barely found concealment,

When the door flung open wide,

And two silenced shots were fired,

By someone that stood outside.

The bullets struck the mattress,

Where not long before I’d lain,

If I’d not had my whit’s about me,

There’s no doubt, I’d have been slain.

As it was I heard the chauffeur,

Cursing as he fled,

“Damn it, Damn it, Damn it all,

Why wasn’t he in bed?”

Of course no-one else had heard a thing,

And as for Mr Denoy,

He still chatted with the nurses,

Though he was obviously annoyed,

That his psychopathic chauffeur,

Had failed him yet again,

And I thanked my lucky stars,

The nurse had called the man by name.

Or else I would have been there,

When the assassin’s bullets struck,

I knew I must do something now,

And not just depend on luck.

And that’s when I finally realized,

I had little choice, but flee,

And the only one I could depend upon,

To keep me safe was me.

But I worried about the woman,

This old man’s trophy wife,

Had he carried out his threat to her,

And ended her young life?

In truth I think he probably did,

Due to his behaviour of the past,

But did he do the deed himself,

Or let his house trained psychopath?

(To Be Continued)

By

S.E.Ralph

25-7-2019