It was late the night of January 5th, that I was awaken by the combination of my doorbell ringing, knocking on my door and a man rapping on my living room window and yelling.
.
I pulled myself off the couch and looked to the window. I could see someone peering in.
It looked like Peter Maynard.
I tried to be invisible, but he saw me, somehow, in the darkness.
.
"I sees 'im," he yelled to someone.
.
A second later, John Maynard appeared in the window.
He too, was yelling and waving to me.
.
"Shit," I muttered, as I pulled myself to my feet.
"What day is this?"
I felt like crap and probably looked worst.
I dragged myself to the front door. As I opened it, I could see the tractor parked in front of my house.
Peter and John obviously were ploughing the roads.
The storm seemed to have subsided.
.
The two men came inside the house, stomping the snow off their feet outside, on the veranda, before entering.
.
"You looks like shit, Will boy," John commented, as he closed the door.
"Sheila be so worried about you, boy.
Where did you disappear to, New Years?"
.
"I suddenly got sick," I lied.
"I threw up in the bathroom, before I left and I just went home."
I took a coat from the rack near me and put it on, shivering, as I did.
"I have been curled up ever since. This is the first time I have really moved since that night."
.
Peter put his hand over his mouth.
"Well, boy, I hopes its not contagious," he joked.
.
I forced a smile.
I was sick, but it was from a massive hangover.
.
John patted my shoulder.
"We was all worryin' 'bout yo, Will. Sheila and Henry be beside demselves."
.
I nodded.
"Please tell her I am sorry."
I took a deep breath. I really was.
"I will call her in the morning, I promise."
.
John nodded.
"You could least answer yer phone, Will."
.
"I know," I nodded, apologetically.
"But I have barely had the energy to even feed the cats and in honesty, I don't even know where my cell phone is. I think I might have lost it in the snow on the way home."
YOU ARE READING
Whisper
FantasyWill Templeton built his dream home in the tiny Newfoundland outport of Maynard's Rock, a community of just 200 people. A loner by choice, little did he know that he would be sharing this new home with the Spirit of an 11 year old girl. A Spirit tha...