What looked like an ordinary bookstore in Small Town American held secrets too horrible for local folks to imagine.
Clyde had occupied the upstairs since 1980. Rumors were that Clyde bought the building from some folks up north but had since sold off the bookstore downstairs. Jake, the current owner of the bookstore, had never met Clyde. Even when the transaction of the purchase was going through, everything was done through Clyde’s lawyer.
Occasionally, when Jake would open up in the mornings, he would hear scuffling noises. Like something being dragged across the floor. Then all would be quite for the rest of the day. Jake just assumed that Clyde was a loner and did his work at night.
The morning that Jake opened up and discovered blood running down the back wall, coming from upstairs, was the day that Jake left town. Neither Jake nor Clyde were ever heard from again.
Clyde’s ex-wife, Sarah, took over the building and never asked any questions.
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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Serenity.”
“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order” ~ John Burroughs
This fella was so patient with me. I got within a few feet of him. He seemed at peace with life and with me.