The Whistler

The Whistler

The moon shined and the stars blinked bright.  She heard the whistling, the same whistleing she heard night after night

as she lay in the bed.  She knew who it was coming from.  The man that lived down the road.  Old fat white haired, now

available after loosing his wife of many years.  Thats when the whistling began.  Probably a way of comforting his

heartbroken soul.  She too was lonely after loosing her husband and the father of her children of many years.  She wanted

to invite him in for a snack  or a hot cup of tea, but like a vampire he only came out at night.  One day she got the nerve

to walk by his house, trying to get a glimpse of him.  The house was shut tight, curtains drawn... Dead flowers and clay

pots lined the walkway.  The only sound was that of a lonely windchime of a butterfly flapping his wings in the wind.  Some of

the other old widows must have had the same idea for on his  porch several notes were tucked in his ragged screen door. 

Homemade cookies neatly wrapped in foil, even a cake sat in an unopened container.  She looked across the yard.  The flower

garden once so lovely cared for was now overtaken with weeds and grass.  The house looked deserted.  On the white paint rain

had left its brown splattered signature where gutters once stood.  So badly she wanted to knock on the door but

couldn't get up the nerve.  She walked back up the road slowly questioning herself.  Should she have gathered up the courage

she had  as a young girl to go after what she wanted?  Interrupting her thought a big brown rabbit ran across her path missing

her feet by inches.  Out of the corner of her eyes she saw why.  It was being chased by 3 big dogs and it didn't want to get

caught so it ran fast as it could.  And if it did get caught it wouldnt be happy.  It would feel trapped.  That night like clockwork

she heard the whistling as she lay in her bed.  The moon shining, the stars blinking bright.