Those Neighbors…. Always Watching

Alright, seriously, I didn’t come up with this idea by myself.  I was venturing through my reader and found another post from a fellow blogger.  This blogger is engaged in a Writing Challenge and is on Day 25.  I don’t know what Writing Challenge it is, just what this person posts as the day’s instructions.  Without further ado, the Day 25 instruction is to write a story about “What the Neighbours Saw.”

*** And yes, I am an American but I spelled neighbors with the extra u, as the British do, because that is how this blogger spelled it.  You can check out her post here if you’d like and catch up on the entire Writing Challenge thus far.

Those Neighbours… Always Watching

I exited my car and walked the length of my driveway to retrieve, if I was lucky, whatever mail the mailman felt like delivering that day.  He steals my Reader’s Digests a lot and then has the nerve to deliver three months worth of the magazine all on the same day.  On this afternoon, I pulled open the metal green door to find a small stack of white envelopes.  Bills.  Most likely all bills.  Good news rarely arrives in those sterile white envelopes.

I stood at the end of my driveway casually flipping through the pile of demands for my money when I saw them pull into their driveway.  I watched as both the man and the woman who lived next door exited their medium sized sedan and exchanged glances to each other before directing their gazes at me. They eyed me with blatant hostility.

These neighbors, whose names I had never bothered to learn, hated me.  I killed their dog… on purpose.  I ran him over with my car when the opportunity presented itself.  Nasty business, killing someone’s pet but necessary if I wanted to keep the peace on my street.  The murder was a gesture, a good will effort on my part.  I am a softy that way.  Rather than kill my neighbors, I killed their dog and carried his mangled body to their doorstep to tell them face to face,

“Leave me alone or you’re next.”

The fear on their faces that day gave me a small measure of comfort.  I felt confident in their future silence.  I could have spared the dog and just eliminated the threat the neighbors posed.  The problem with simply exterminating them was my distaste for killing anyone who may be unaware of the consequences of interference in my life.  I like to give everyone a chance – one chance – to save themselves.

Normally I would ignore the glares of others but this afternoon I just didn’t feel like it.  I returned the neighbor’s stares and smiled when they immediately averted their eyes.  Hurriedly they made an escape from their driveway into the front door of their home.  I turned around and looked up to the second floor windows where I expected at least one of them to part the curtains slightly and watch my every move.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

Several weeks ago just before dawn, one of them had made the unfortunate choice to monitor my movements through an upstairs window.  I only spotted the onlooker as I was packing the dirt down with my shovel to hide a freshly interred body.  My suspicions concerning what they may have seen, if it had included my placing the body in the makeshift grave, were confirmed with the knock of a policeman’s hand at my door several days later.  Fortunately for myself, I don’t take chances.  As soon as it was safe, I had painstakingly dug up the body and moved it to a safer location far from my property or frequently visited establishments.

When the officer arrived and requested entrance to my home and grounds, I gladly obliged.  The only thing he found in my yard was the new flower bed I had been working on digging up.  I agreed with the officer after his search of the property that,

“Yes, I am an avid gardener.”

Seeing the moving of a curtain of only an inch in the neighbor’s upstairs window, I left my driveway for more private surroundings.  I needed time to search my maps to locate a new area.  There would be plenty of time for a proper study of the sprawling woodlands a mere thirty minute drive away.  The neighbors and their ever watching eyes would be leaving after dark to go to their respective jobs.

Setting the map book down on a kitchen counter, I opened the refrigerator to search for sandwich making materials.  Retrieving what remained of a pound of thin sliced turkey from the deli, I combined it with a single slice of American cheese on regular white bread with a dollup of mayonnaise.  Adding a bag of chips to my plate, I made my way to the front room where I kicked off my shoes, sat down and propped my feet up on the coffee table.  I was overdue for some down time.  The new body currently decomposing in my trunk had been difficult to kill and even more difficult to maneuver into the trunk.

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