It was nearly three
a.m. when Donna drove along the Main Street in her hometown, Grandview. How
many years had it been? She asked herself.
Donna had been a clerk in the local drugstore,
working with kindly Mr. Jameson. Those days had been so simple, so happy.
That was when the “incident”
occurred. Ol’ Miz Grandview, the founder
of the city, had staggered into the store, in obvious distress. “I’ve been drugged, drugged,
I tell you.” Then she collapsed on the
floor.
From her dead hand
rolled the prescription, filled by Mr. Jameson himself. “This is not the prescription I gave her!” Sweat beaded on his forehead, as he
remembered what he had been doing that day.
Mr. Jameson had been
in the storage room that day, hidden in
a scandalous and passionate embrace with Mrs. Calhoun. No one knew, and now what?
“SHE did it!” He
pointed at Donna . “SHE replaced the
pills!”
The trial was quick
and the jury could not agree to a verdict.
Donna left town, nearly forty years ago.
Mrs. Jameson finally confessed to the crime which sent her to die in the
electrocution chair, frying as
her husband sobbed.
What am I doing here?” Donna wondered.
She honestly did not know.
Many thanks to Delores @Under the Porch Light! Every Wednesday, Delores puts up some very challenging words for readers to use in creating prose, poetry, whatever. Please check her site!!
