Children scamper down the sidewalks,
Skipping stones and hopping over cracks.
Having a good time, in no hurry to get home.
Not so for one little child.
She hurries, head down against the chilly air.
Fingers point, voices whisper,
The seed of Satan, no good.
She hurries faster, trying not to notice.
Home at last_The old Victorian house,
Once a well-respected and stately home.
Her mother sits as usual, in front of the fire.
Mind blurred by alcohol and pills,
Never noticing how much need of her the little
child has.
Wishing for the laughing, happy mother from
before_
Before the tragedy of Willowtown.
The murders of two young girls_
She’d heard that horrible things had been done
to them before they died.
She’d been too young to understand,
But she remembered the townspeople looking
for someone to blame.
Turning their hatred to the young piano
teacher.
The man who gave private lessons in his home,
Her father.
The laughing young man who tossed her in the
air_
Who cuddled and read bedtime stories to her
until she fell asleep.
She remembered the rocks thrown through the
windows_
Her mother crying,
The crowed that gathered outside their house
with sticks and guns.
Her father going out to speak with them_
And never coming back.
Sixty years later, the old Victorian still stands,
crumbling and faded.
Fingers point, voices whisper_
That crazy old woman, never leaves her house,
A witch she is, in league with the devil.
ÓElizabeth Melton Parsons
November 12, 2013 at 1:41 pm
Love this, Elizabeth…now I want to read the entire story. 🙂
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November 12, 2013 at 6:11 pm
Thanks, Jill. This actually started as a novel many years ago. I just never finished it. One of my many unfinished writing projects.
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November 12, 2013 at 6:16 pm
I think you should finish it. That’s easy for me to say. 🙂
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November 12, 2013 at 6:47 pm
Yep, I should. That’s a fact. 🙂
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November 12, 2013 at 11:13 pm
This story could go in so many directions! Wow! Very good.
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November 13, 2013 at 9:07 am
Thank you so much for leaving such a nice compliment. 🙂
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November 13, 2013 at 11:08 am
You’re welcome. When I read it, I wanted to read more and know what happens! 🙂
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November 13, 2013 at 9:23 pm
I have a poem…
Hickory, Dickory, Dock…. The mouse ran up a clock. The clock struck one… and his family sued the clock maker for everything he had.
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November 14, 2013 at 6:29 am
Tragic, simply tragic for both the mouse and the clock maker. 😛
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November 14, 2013 at 9:28 am
I live my life by it….
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November 14, 2013 at 10:48 pm
Thank you so much articles for sharing
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November 15, 2013 at 10:07 am
Thank you for visiting and taking time to leave a comment. 🙂
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November 15, 2013 at 2:28 pm
Wow, Elizabeth, this reads like a true story. Well done!
Blessings ~ Wendy
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November 16, 2013 at 2:33 pm
Wendy, thank you so much. Big hug for you. 🙂
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November 15, 2013 at 9:37 pm
WOW, WOW, WOW.
WHAT AN INTENSE PIECE.
YOU TRULY ARE A TALENTED WRITER.
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November 16, 2013 at 2:32 pm
What a lovely compliment! You just made my day, thank you, Ep. Hugs, Elizabeth
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November 16, 2013 at 5:09 pm
you are most welcome. Thank you for following my blog and for your comments.
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November 18, 2013 at 9:18 pm
Wow. That was a great story. I was totally engrossed. The choice of pic was brilliant – a nice juxtaposition of a pristine, idyllic home on the outside but a house of horrors on the inside. Well done 🙂
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November 18, 2013 at 9:49 pm
That was a beautiful compliment and so appreciated. Thank you so much! 🙂
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November 19, 2013 at 12:32 pm
Hello there! You are the 100th person to follow my blog. Thank you for being curious about what’s coming around the corner!!! I certainly appreciate it.
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November 19, 2013 at 8:12 pm
Hey, you’re welcome and I’m glad to be your 100th visitor. Enjoyed my visit. Thank you for visiting me. 🙂
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November 21, 2013 at 10:22 pm
Absolutely enchanting….and enchanted.
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November 22, 2013 at 7:42 pm
Thank you very much for the kind and thoughtful comment, Patricia. 🙂
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