365 Days- Book I

114. Neighbours

October 22, 2018

"Make up a story or poem about your next door neighbor."

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Mrs Peabody was known as Mrs Busybody; she was aware of that moniker and took great pride in being named as one. She was a self declared neighbourhood watch and a self appointed moral guardian of the residents of the street she lived on, more specifically the dozen houses or so which came under her direct survey.

She knew the times each member left the house; Mr Jones of house no. 12 left everyday at eight thirty sharp, she set her clock to his departure, always dressed in a conservative suit of deep grey or charcoal black. He worked as an accountant in the City and she presumed it paid well. Then there was his wife, who would not be a day under forty five but did not look a day over thirty; she put it down to extensive makeup, those thoughts leaned more towards malice rather than appreciation. Mrs Jones, in her opinion, appeared to spend all her salary as well as most of her husbands on her grooming products. If only their daughter used a tenth of them, for eighteen year old Jenna not only eschewed the make up products she also seemed to reject basic shampoo and soap as well as harboured a dislike for clothes. There could be no other reason for Jenna to be dressed in cut off denim shorts that ended just a little below her butt and her blouses were cropped off to reveal her navel which had a piercing. However, Mrs Busybody was being unfair, she had seen Jenna in that sort of clothes only a couple of time, during the peak of summer, but she rarely changed her mind once it was made up.

Then there were her next door neighbours, a house which changed its owners quite frequently and provided her with a lot of entertainment, the latest being a young couple, quite in love and living it up. The first few days and nights were disturbing for the young couple made love on a constant basis and a lot of noise, she had almost made up her mind to complain. Then just as suddenly they toned down, at least in the  nights, though she could hear the moans and groans in the still of the night. And the horror of it all was the night she was witness to love making; so lost were they that they had forgotten to close the window and draw the curtains. Since then, each time she heard them the visual played, despite her frantic efforts not to remember. Some things could not be unseen it appeared.

She knew the days and times of the delivery boys, the newspaper boys, the familiar strangers as they went on their morning walk. She knew them all for she spent all her time watching them, till that fateful night. The house, which was across the road and two house down from hers, had new owners, and using her night vision glasses (military grade level, purchased online) she was taking stock of the items that were being unloaded. The transport truck had arrived just after dark but then it did not deter her. 

What did shock her was when she felt a warm breath on her neck; she dropped her vision glasses in terror and slowly turned around to see a tall man wearing a ski mask, his dark eyes boring into her eyes. As she lost consciousness, she heard his sarcastic tone, "maybe you should have watched your own house with half the diligence you put into watching the neighbourhood..." 

Mrs Busybody reverted to a quiet Mrs Peabody, who rarely even peeped out of her window, not that she could see anything much from the third floor apartment that she had shifted into. She liked the fact that there were not many windows and she never investigated what views they offered. 

She had been scared off the neighbourhood watch, for life.

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Word count - 650 - not sure of how well it came out to be, the idea felt nice though.