So I lied, that wasn’t the last few pages in my notebook. Since I am in the same straits as described in this part of the story at the moment it only seemed apropos that I should write something about it instead. I currently find myself desperately trying to make sense of my bedlam ridden bedroom. Also much like the story, I might even have a drink later and avoid the whole disaster, who knows. Actually, I am making progress and I hope to continue to do so.
The Happy Valley: A Wish for Good Fortune
Deeds walked home with her head bent forward and hugging her middle lightly. Paying no mind to the rain that pelted the back of her neck, she wandered the rarely tread cobblestone alleyways between the houses and the streets lost inside her own head. Knowlton’s Corner was dead this late at night but she really did not want to be seen by the public; not after the last time she made an appearance on the streets. Before she knew it she was home, a deserted looking old stone church on the outskirts of town. She stopped walking and cautiously regarded her house from the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
It loomed above her, a blocky Greek Revival with Corinthian columns rising skyward. It was long abandoned and had fallen into considerable disrepair which was why she bought it for such a price. She was lucky to own any property at all these days, given the market. But she didn’t feel lucky. Not even the contractors, real-estate agents, and brokers wanted to touch it as they circled the city blocks like sharks snatching up rundown properties and turning them over at a great profit. She had drawn the conclusion that she didn’t want anything to do that godforsaken place either. Not tonight anyway, she thought, not knowing exactly how long she had been standing outside staring at it.
She could picture the rain pouring in from the rotting gutters and leaky roof. She could imagine her living quarters, small and unkempt, her life contained in the only room deemed habitable enough in the whole building. After the past few days she knew that everything she owned was strewn into considerable disarray. Her room was a mess, her life was a mess, and she was fairly certain it was only going to get worse. Even if she did clean and reorganize everything, it would only get trashed again in a matter of seconds. Not tonight anyway, she repeated, and sighed at the thought of getting her life back together. Deeds drew the conclusion that she did not want to deal with it. She raised her eyebrows and looked into the rain as if beseeching the leaking sky for answers, even though she knew she would not find any there. They wouldn’t be in her house, for that matter, and definitely not in a that accursed manor on Abernathy Avenue. Perhaps a bar, she thought as she turned and walked off to find her answers in the bottom of a beer glass. Deed’s decided that she’d even have one for the good fortune of her new friends. They were going to need it.