Essays & Short Stories

The House Where The Lady Was Murdered

If the weeds of a house are overgrown check on the elderly person living inside because he or she is likely dead. Old people are meticulous and habitual weed pullers.

Most die in their sleep. She was murdered by a friend. A younger acquaintance. No motive so far. No change in the house weeks later as I pass on the way to the gym or the 7-11 except this morning a pick-up truck in the driveway and a couple garbage bags and recycling buckets on the curb likely filled with uneaten food and years of unread newspapers.

This house is unnoticeable and a carbon copy of the homes soldiering down the road. The siding is pearl, shudders are faded and the landscape is sparse but well kept. Not a dandelion or ragwort in sight.

A son or daughter or both now allowed to sift through a murdered parent’s belonging after a police search.

The house will sell. A new occupant will call it home. I’ll never be able to pass without thinking about a dead woman I never met who I’m positive would hate what they’ve done to her flower beds.


2 comments on “The House Where The Lady Was Murdered

  1. Christine Sine

    Is that the one on Ewingville Road? Right down the street from me. (And when driving, I ALWAYS look at it … It’s part of my morbid curiosity.)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

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

Google photo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: