11-30-2020, 01:20 AM
Betty Lynn Parker was a sweet little old lady.
She never had children but her love for cats filled that void. Always baking cookies, muffins and treats
for her neighbors and friends, there wasn't a time you could find her without a smile. Friday nights
at the bingo hall were her favorite. She'd sit between Lela and Carole and they'd talk it up for the whole
two hours. B-19, that's the one! All she needed for the win. B-19!
After being dropped off and saying her goodnight pleasantries, she'd head inside to feed those five
hungry felines. They would swarm her as she came through the door.
"Friday night salmon!!" she'd always say.
Those cats really were her life. Without them she'd probably feel that hard, cold loneliness that so many
other people her age feel. She made sure to pamper those little lions too! Even going so far as to buy
each one of them their very own custom-fit cat harness. Sunday mornings were made for kittie cat walks
at the park by the lake. People would stare, smile and offer friendly comments when they saw her out
there doing her thing. Where else could you expect to see a little grandmotherly lady out walking five
cats? It truly was a sight to behold.
Sunday evenings wound down with her sitting in her favorite chair, drinking chamomile tea and reading
that week's book club selection. As she neared the end of a chapter, a faint moaning could be heard. Her
eyes froze. She grabbed the bookmark and put it in place, setting the book down as she rose from her
comfy chair to investigate that sound.
Betty moved from her study out into the hall. Slowly, she stepped towards the back utility room. There it was
again. A muffled, grunting that left the impression that someone was in pain. She stood by her basement
door now where the sound was loudest. A third time. This was no accident. Quickly, she shuffled into the
kitchen to retrieve her emergency stand-by: an old snub-nose .38 kept in a secret drawer with a false
bottom.
Gun in hand, she returned to that basement door. Now hearing an almost constant feedback of dull groaning.
She carefully opened that door and made her way down the creaky wooden stairs. Flicking on a dim, single
bulb light after reaching the bottom step, she looked across the room to find the source of those disconcerting
sounds. It was a man, naked and chained to the wall. His body striped with red lashes. He hung there like
a dirty dish cloth, limp and lifeless. She inched her way towards him, gun in front. She was now standing
just a few feet away. Clearing her throat brought his head up and instantly he began wailing.
"You keep it down or else tonight you leave this world, got it??"
Betty Lynn had secrets...
She never had children but her love for cats filled that void. Always baking cookies, muffins and treats
for her neighbors and friends, there wasn't a time you could find her without a smile. Friday nights
at the bingo hall were her favorite. She'd sit between Lela and Carole and they'd talk it up for the whole
two hours. B-19, that's the one! All she needed for the win. B-19!
After being dropped off and saying her goodnight pleasantries, she'd head inside to feed those five
hungry felines. They would swarm her as she came through the door.
"Friday night salmon!!" she'd always say.
Those cats really were her life. Without them she'd probably feel that hard, cold loneliness that so many
other people her age feel. She made sure to pamper those little lions too! Even going so far as to buy
each one of them their very own custom-fit cat harness. Sunday mornings were made for kittie cat walks
at the park by the lake. People would stare, smile and offer friendly comments when they saw her out
there doing her thing. Where else could you expect to see a little grandmotherly lady out walking five
cats? It truly was a sight to behold.
Sunday evenings wound down with her sitting in her favorite chair, drinking chamomile tea and reading
that week's book club selection. As she neared the end of a chapter, a faint moaning could be heard. Her
eyes froze. She grabbed the bookmark and put it in place, setting the book down as she rose from her
comfy chair to investigate that sound.
Betty moved from her study out into the hall. Slowly, she stepped towards the back utility room. There it was
again. A muffled, grunting that left the impression that someone was in pain. She stood by her basement
door now where the sound was loudest. A third time. This was no accident. Quickly, she shuffled into the
kitchen to retrieve her emergency stand-by: an old snub-nose .38 kept in a secret drawer with a false
bottom.
Gun in hand, she returned to that basement door. Now hearing an almost constant feedback of dull groaning.
She carefully opened that door and made her way down the creaky wooden stairs. Flicking on a dim, single
bulb light after reaching the bottom step, she looked across the room to find the source of those disconcerting
sounds. It was a man, naked and chained to the wall. His body striped with red lashes. He hung there like
a dirty dish cloth, limp and lifeless. She inched her way towards him, gun in front. She was now standing
just a few feet away. Clearing her throat brought his head up and instantly he began wailing.
"You keep it down or else tonight you leave this world, got it??"
Betty Lynn had secrets...
