Infestation: A Small Town Nightmare Read Free

you on
your book signing event. I'm glad we got ours autographed long
before," Nastacia commented, glancing back at her
daughter.
    "Congratulations, Mrs. Adams. I really
enjoyed your book," Sandy said from the chair.
    "Thanks, Sandy! Be honest though… you
didn't think your neighbor was kind of strange?" She
grimaced.
    "Not at all," Sandy replied. "I always
thought you were really gifted."
    "It's so obvious," Nastacia said.
"Ever since you moved into the neighborhood approximately what…
nine months ago? We could tell you were something
special."
    "Stop it!" Marie slapped Nastacia's
arm. "You had no idea how weird I was. Besides, we're all gifted in
some way. Let's sit down."
    Amy and Sandy went outside and
retreated to the porch.
    "Well, your so-called weirdness is
doing a lot of good around here. God knows, we need all the good we
can get. Don't you see how much this town has evolved in the past
two years? Crime is up—rapes, robberies. Thankfully, the murder
rate is still quite low and suicides are almost unheard
of."
    "What about the woman they found in
waters last night?" Marie posed.
    "You think that was
suicide?"
    "According to reports, those closest
to her claimed she was depressed."
    "I just find that so hard to believe,"
Nastacia remarked. "The lady had four kids; she wouldn't do
that."
    "Why not?" Marie asked. "If she
couldn't find work to put food on the table for those four kids and
no one—even the ones who claim they were 'close' to her were
helping her, etc., I could see how hopelessness could set in and
she could lose all sense of logic and commit such a dreadful,
irreversible act."
    "Having no money or food is no reason
to end your life," Nastacia replied. "There are a lot of people out
there doing much worse than that and they tug on and survive and
push against those dreadful thoughts."
    "How can you judge like
that, Nastacia? I personally don't agree with committing suicide,
but at the same time, I feel that none of us has a right to dictate
the extent of how a person should feel when confronted with the
woes of life. Think about it: If that's the mentality we all had,
when people who are hurting cross our path, would we ever feel
compelled to help them or would we simply say, Other people are doing much worse, so be strong and keep
moving on ? We'd certainly come across as
callous and possibly feed a stronger sense of hopelessness within
the person. I understand your point-of-view, but the element
missing there, my friend, is compassion."
    Nastacia looked shocked. "You think
so?"
    Marie nodded. "I know that in there is
the missing element…" she pointed at Nastacia's chest, "…but
getting that across to a person in desperate need is imperative.
The right words along with appropriate action could possibly save a
person's life."
    Nastacia smiled. "See why I always
liked you? You never have a dim perspective on life."
    Marie smiled and got up. "I could use
a cup of coffee. Want any?"
    "Need you ask? Nastacia got up and
followed her into the kitchen.
     
    * * *
     
    The street was clear that
time of night. No vehicles had passed for at least forty-five
minutes to an hour. The dimly-lit lampposts near the docks revealed
nothing more than dozens of boats rocking quietly above the deep,
murky waters. Raven Flottemore got up from the rusty boulder she
was sitting on, her face drenched with tears that had flowed
literally non-stop for hours. If only
Tommy hadn’t left , she kept
thinking; If only I was good
enough . Flashbacks of her life over the
past nineteen years of her existence had accompanied her to the
docks that night. Mostly none of it had been good, to her vivid
recollection. Then came Tommy Fishburne: The handsome boy who had
swept her off her feet at the tender age of sixteen. She thought
their love would last forever. After all, it had lasted two and a
half years without as much as a serious falling out— that is, until
Jessica Thompson came along: A tall, slender seventeen-year-old
with