Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: The Book Store/Library (06/03/10)
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TITLE: This Old House | Previous Challenge Entry
By Tom Rinkes
06/05/10 -
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I got all the information I needed and sat at a large table to lay it out. I didn't see her come in—or sit across from me—yet I smiled at her politely. She had the strangest look in her dark, brown eyes that went with her ankle-length cotton dress; or was it a robe? After I could stand her incessant staring no longer I asked:
“Excuse me, miss, do I know you?”
“No...but you will, and the obsession I lived under. But finish what you're doing, and check out the building records for a man named Jonas Probst.”
“Is he a contractor?”
“You could say that. Or you can say he knew his way around hammers.”
I hurriedly wrote his name down, then looked up to ask hers but she was gone. This all was as strange as the fact no one had lived at 109 Ruggles Avenue for thirty years, and the building permit listed it as still “under construction.” It was a large, two-story that did need some work, but it was a good starter home for the wife and I.
I decided to forget what happened and drive by the place one more time before we sealed the deal. As I pulled into the driveway I saw an old man—I almost hit him—in a wheelchair, sitting and looking at the house. My approach was cautious. My sixth-sense—or an inner voice—told me to study him carefully.
I noticed he held a Bible in his left hand and a carpenter's hammer in the other. He would alternate between the two; looking at one, then the other. Instinctively, I knew who he was.
“Can I help you with something, Mr. Probst?” I asked. He looked up at me, squinting in the noon sun, then looked away.
“How do you know my name?”
“I met a woman in the library this morning who dropped your name;I just put two and two together.” His tone became pale.
“Was she young, vibrant and beautiful?”
“Yes sir, matter of fact she was the second prettiest woman I've ever met, my wife being the first. The Lord has truly blessed me.”
He looked at me again, and smiled.
“God...I loved that woman, but she just wouldn't love me back. Her name was Becky.”
“Was?” I asked.
“Yes,” he sighed. “Was. Deceased now, for almost thirty years. Someone murdered her...right in this house...bludgeoned her to death. ”
There's that number again, I thought. I crouched down beside him and noticed a cross suspended from a gold necklace. The Bible, the Cross...the next question wasn't hard to find.
“Jonas, are you a church going man?”
“I was...but...I haven't been to Mass for a long, long time.”
“Let me guess—thirty years?”
“'bout that. But I think it's time I start back; I just don't know how.”
“Did you have a hand in this house back then?”
“Yes I did, young man. Built it from the ground up?”
The Sherlock Holmes in me thought before I spoke. There's a sordid story here, I thought, or a confession. I looked up in a moment of quiet meditation wondering what to do, to say or who to call. If God was indeed in charge of my life—like I asked Him—I was there for a reason. The next sentence flowed out of my dry mouth before I could stop it after I saw a single tear coming from his eye.
“Mr Probst...Jonas...what would Jesus have you do?”
The old man hung his head and began to sob, and sob, and sob. I let him cleanse his guilt before I spoke another word, then when he stopped I asked:
“Sir, can I do anything for you?”
“Yes,” he said, looking straight forward. “Two things. Give me a hanky if you've got one, and call 9-1-1 for me. Ask for Detective MacKenzie, tell him my name and that I want to talk to him...he'll know why.”
Needless to say, we passed on this old house. Just too many bad memories to start a family with.
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A minor editing note. you used the phrase for my wife and I. A good check to make sure you're using the correct pronoun is to drop the first part. You wouldn't say for I.
I enjoyed the suspense of the story, but i almost felt sad for the house, it's purpose in life might never be fulfilled. That's good writing if you can make me feel sad for an inanimate item.