I began to feel somewhat tense...it was too quiet to suit me. If only...
Well, the night was dark as are all nights but it wasn’t stormy. It felt weird, however. There was a strange stillness and the temperature was of the sort that you couldn’t feel comfortable—you know, either too cool or too warm, but never just right. The moon, though, was full and beautiful. It was the moon that gave us the idea to go for a walk. I guess we’d both seen it shining earlier that evening. It was like the moon in that movie with Cher, “Moonstruck.” And it’s true —you felt you could really touch it!
Robert, my husband of forty years, had had a good day. I had too, for that matter. He had worked about six hours at the store and I had tended to household matters and worked a bit in my office, which is in the house. As we walked, leisurely actually, I began to feel somewhat tense. It wasn’t Robert. He talked gaily and incessantly as usual. He’d always entertained me—that’s one reason I fell in love with him. I remember the tree leaves and branches lilting in the soft breeze that had come up. Even so, it was too quiet to suit me. If only we’d heard car doors slamming or TVs too loud, things like that, I’d have been distracted. But no—nothing. Just that nice breeze and the quiet.
There were many shrubs and hedges. That’s just the way Lakeside, our neighborhood, is. They’re all quite lovely, of course. No one would ever chop anything down. Just trim time after time. But still, I couldn’t help thinking what an easy prey a stroller was. We’d just turned the corner at the end of a block when I heard a twig snap. Then a tallish man suddenly appeared. He was very excited and erratic and wore a nylon stocking over his head. When he pulled a knife, I gasped. That’s when he spoke to Robert, rather crazy like.
“You screwed-up fat-assed liberal! I’ll teach you fuckers to hate a good President.”
At that moment he stabbed Robert in the stomach. Then he jerked the knife upward so it would cause more severe damage. Blood spewed everywhere. I was horrified, to put it mildly. I was in a state of shock I never considered possible. Robert managed to scream, “Run, run Claire!” just before he fell to the sidewalk. When he shouted, I’d already started running and had managed to get a bit of distance between the killer and myself. I really hadn’t thought of saving myself. All I could think of was help, running to find some help.
I’ll never know if Robert recognized the killer’s voice. I certainly did. It was Danny Stinson, a local college freshman Robert and I had known for at least ten years. We knew who his parents were although we weren’t socially acquainted. He’d been an infrequent customer at Robert’s pro shop. That's where he heard politics being discussed. Robert loved discussing politics with certain favorite customers. But why Danny destroyed our lives together I may never truly know. Was he doing drugs or something? I asked myself that question I don’t know how many times.
Robert was a good man—one absolutely devoid of hatred. It’s true he was a liberal politically, but so what? Just because he didn’t agree with our current President was no cause to kill him. Robert loved his country as do millions, and he was never disrespectful of the office of the Presidency. It wasn’t in him to be like that. I supported and still support our President because we’re from the same state and I do so out of a sort of loyalty. Robert and I had never ever had an argument about that.
Why wasn’t I killed? First, let me say I would have gladly changed places with Robert. There I was running for help like a bat out of hell, they say, and I don't mean to sound funny, and a half-crazed Danny running after me, getting closer to me by the second when all of a sudden a police cruiser came round that same corner we’d last turned. It’s hard to believe because in the movies you never see a cop when you need one. But this time it was true . There were two officers in the car. Fortunately, they immediately got the picture. After Danny didn’t halt as they’d asked him to, he was shot in the leg and shoulder. Neither one fatal. It seems each officer fired. Kudos for such excellent marksmanship, if I may use the term. I guess it’s sexist but I’m not really into that. Maybe I feel there are so many issues that are more important. Anyway…
People thought I was the one crazy when I went to visit Danny in prison. I wasn’t, of course. What I had to do was to bring myself to forgive him. It was very very hard to do but I did it. My pastor helped a lot. We have a very wonderful pastor whom everybody loves. He’s the sanest person you’ll ever meet so we don’t have any child molestation or love affairs so many people talk about nowadays.
Hatred that stems from intolerance is a cancer. It will eat you up inside. I don’t like Danny at all as a person, indeed, he's a murderer! But I don’t hate him anymore either. Someday Robert and I—we’ll be together again. We’ll take our little strolls under a full and beautiful moon just as always. A moon like in “Moonstruck,” that movie with Cher. If you’ll forgive me, I think I’ll get some rest now. Thanks for listening. Yes, thanks a million.
You've said quite a lot here with this intriguing and dark little tale, dark but offering the light of forgiveness in the end. Sadly, I do believe there are actual people in this country who could snap just like Danny, at least that's how their rhetoric sounds or the road down which it takes you. ~~Nordette
I witnessed the same moon a few days ago. There is something special about a moon like that. It's either a Hunter's Moon ,full moon
(mundane) or a Harvest Moon (which it wasn't.) Something extraordinary always happens when we get up close and personal with nature's lantern. You gave us a great possibility of the moon's influence in your pen.
Love,
Susan
The Butcher's Boy
- 2011 Readers Favorite Award Silver Medal Winner in Horror - Fiction
A Paranormal/Chiller by Michael Robb
Thirty-one years ago, Buxly the Butcher went to trial for killing h
WEIRD RHODY is a short story collection featuring five strange tales all set in Rhode Island and written by five Rhode Island authors. The anthology is a tribute to H.P. Lovecraft, the Ocean State's famed author of pulp horror.
The Butcher's Boy
- 2011 Readers Favorite Award Silver Medal Winner in Horror - Fiction
A Paranormal/Chiller by Michael Robb
Thirty-one years ago, Buxly the Butcher went to trial for killing h
