Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Mrs. Godwin's Prize Pt. 1 by Me (Betsy Phillips)
The house looked abandoned. It sat secluded on the outskirts of Jasper County with infrequent foot traffic passing by. Mild hills rolled around and behind 212 Country Lane but it rested upon the tallest one making it a rather steep climb to the front light blue wooden door. The sky blue color matched the shutters but both exposed the original color of wood underneath and the white house itself did the same as its accessories.
Theodore, dripping with sweat underneath the Texas summer sun, made a quick glance at the mailbox that read Godwin proudly in bold letters before beginning the short but difficult journey up the makeshift stairs towards the house.
Once the young man, 25 with golden hair and a blue suit required of him to wear despite the weather, reached the decaying porch he took a moment to gather himself before finally knocking three times. At first there was silence, all Theodore could here was the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees then a slight noise presented itself. Beginning softly then growing in volume and proximity, the boy heard a rhythmic stomp coming towards him. Theodore now knew someone to be on the other side of the door but gathered they were looking through the peephole at their guest. After a brief second the door creaked open to an elderly woman with grey hair tucked neatly on top of her round face.
“Hello Mrs. Godwin, my name is Theodore Vance from Vance Appliances.” The salesman had presented his pitch numerous times but found himself trailing off under the focused and intense stare of the tiny old lady in front of him. “We have, uh, a special sale on vacuums today…” Theodore couldn’t help but notice that the woman looked almost angry to see him. Her head dipped a little low but her eyes stood straight, as if surveying his soul. The boy ridiculously thought of the times in the movies when a victim stands in place in front of the screen then falls forward revealing a knife in their back. “They come in a variety of colors…” Theodore almost was ready to catch the old lady in case she fainted or indeed was already dead. He gathered her to merely be 90 pounds, her tiny waist defined by a scuffed white belt, holding together her grey floral print dress. Not being one for fashion, the salesman did find it odd that a floral pattern not be depicted in color. “You won’t find a better price in town.”