Tuesday, April 19, 2022

Misgivings: Day 14

Word Count: 84,011

Summary of Events:
Arriving home, Greyson put away the leftover food and drinks that he'd brought to the wiener roast and observed that he hadn't seen Sonic. Upon searching the trailer, he discovered she'd escaped out the spare bedroom window, and so undertook a search for her around the yard that only found success when he took Mr. Fransbergen's bull terrier without asking and set the dog on Sonic's trail. Mr. Fransbergen was displeased, even when Greyson apologised, so Greyson retreated to the trailer to try and replace the screen in the window Sonic had escaped out of. Unable to do so because he couldn't open the window all the way, Greyson elected to close the window, which resisted closing before suddenly slamming Greyson's hand, scraping it and making it sore…

Excerpt of the Day:

He flexed his hand and stepped into the bathroom, where he ran cold water over the sore area to ease some of the pain before he had to shake his hand dry because he’d not put any of his towels into the main bathroom and go over to the kitchen to towel off the residual moisture with a kitchen towel.

Sonic was still crouched by her bowl eating. Greyson sighed as he looked at her. He had no idea what had behoved her to get out and get up to mischief, but he didn’t appreciate it, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting into mischief again, but he had no way of knowing for sure whether he’d be able to achieve that.

Nevertheless, Greyson was grateful that she’d not become an owl’s midnight snack while he’d been busy enjoying himself with Raylyn and learning more about the Fransbergens.

He opened the refrigerator and grabbed out one of the remaining bottles in the case he’d brought home. He fetched out his bottle opener from his utensil drawer and popped the lid off before taking a sip of the chilled liquid within, his mind turning back to what Joe and Raylyn had told him.

Four years ago, for what Raylyn had suggested was a somewhat brief period of time, this trailer had been occupied by Terry Woloschuk, Ayers’ best friend, before he’d been killed by Travis Fransbergen.

Greyson wondered why Mr. Fransbergen hadn’t mentioned Terry. His not mentioning Terry had made Greyson wary that Terry had met with foul play by Mr. Fransbergen, Ayers, or Andy’s hand, but if he would’ve been told upfront that the place had last been lived in by a guy who’d been killed by a drunk driver, Greyson wasn’t sure that he would’ve necessarily felt so uneasy when he’d first moved in and found all the clothes and other possessions, as well as the newspaper in the garbage can.

Had Mr. Fransbergen not liked Terry? Greyson wasn’t sure. Even if Mr. Fransbergen didn’t like him, but was letting him live in the trailer, Terry had been Ayers’ best friend, assuredly if Mr. Fransbergen had disliked Terry he would’ve put the kibosh on Ayers’ friendship with Terry years ago.

Taking another sip from the bottle, Greyson shook his head. He honestly couldn’t think of any reasons why Mr. Fransbergen wouldn’t have mentioned Terry. Surely even if his habitation in the place had been somewhat brief, it hadn’t been worth glossing over, nor did Greyson really believe that Mr. Fransbergen might’ve forgotten about it. Even though he was the oldest man on the property, Greyson was personally convinced that Mr. Fransbergen was the sharpest tool in the shed. Ayers and Andy, despite their comparative youth to Mr. Fransbergen, were not the men Greyson needed to fear. Mr. Fransbergen was.

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