The sound of the church bells at an unusual hour had the entire village whispering. The confusion was mixed with excitement as everybody closed their business to rush to the church. A place where entertainment were few and far between, anything was better than nothing.
The two middle-aged women walked at a brisk pace, so that they didn’t miss the ‘main event’. Out of breath, Mrs Pols grumbled, “I don’t think anybody was that sick in the village…”
“I hope it’s Elyn…” Mrs Stout said in a wishful tone, but seeing the older lady’s shocked expression, she backtracked, “I mean that she has finally eloped with that Johney Flynn,”
“Oh that! I agree. The two had been mooning over each other for too long. Did you see them kiss at the Harvest ball?”
“The entire village did. Shameless! My Tommy has never been the same since that day. He has had a soft spot for Elyn ever since he joined the village choir. They used to practice together every Sunday. But now, she only has eyes for that worthless Johney…”
“Well, I don’t understand what all the men in the village see in that girl beside her golden hair. A woman’s got to have some meat on her but that one looks like a matchstick. I’m not sure how she kneads dough and milks cows with those tiny hands. And she doesn’t even know how to brew ale,” Mrs Pols added in an indignant tone.
Mrs Stout was clearly shocked, “Oh my! How do you know?”
“Well, the other day, she asked me if I would teach her how to brew ale since her mother died long back. As if I would let a woman like her around my Michael…” Mrs Pols huffed.
“No wonder her father looks so pale…the poor man must be living on water. What a worthless woman! I really hope she has eloped so that my Tommy will get over her!”
“Well, there are other ways to distract young men. My Rosie would be happy to help,” Mrs Pols offered suggestively.
Mrs Stout took the hint, “Why don’t you bring her over for dinner tomorrow and we’ll let the chips fall where they may?”
So, the women kept refining their conspiracy the rest of the way until they reached the church, which was more crowded than on a Sunday. People were whispering amongst themselves but no one was speaking openly. So, they pushed through the bodies to reach the front. Elyn stood there, crying, while her father looked stricken. And ‘little’ Tommy was leaning over something furry…
The mother within Mrs. Stout roared, “Thomas Stout! What do you think you are doing? You are allergic to cats!”
“Mother, I am paying last respects. Poor Tabitha is dead…”
“Dead?” Elyn’s father was now shaking with rage, “Johney Flynn murdered her; threw her in the well! If wasn’t for Tommy dear here, we would never have found out.”
Johney looked aghast, “But why would I ever do that? “
“Because I wouldn’t let Elyn marry you. So, you took it out on our cat.”
“Rubbish!”
Tommy piped in, “I saw you, Johney. I was standing on the hilltop when you picked her up from outside the farm and threw her in the well.”
“But that’s not true!”
Tears trickled from Elyn’s eyes as she fumed, “I saw you kick her the other day!”
“I told you earlier, I wasn’t kicking her. She was using my leg for a scratch post. I was just trying to shrug her off.”
“Liar! I don’t want to see you again,” Elyn shouted, crying in the earnest leaning on Tommy’s shoulder as he put a protective hand around her.
“Fine! Have it your way!” Johney stomped away.
At the coroner’s cue, little “Tommy Stout” picked up the little dead cat and walked to the tiny grave with Elyn by his side, a smile tugging at his lips.
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 