The Lie

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

A harmless white lie.

He stood in the window, watching the school girls pass by. Every morning he does this. His disheveled look, was quite disgusting and suspect to Florence, as she peered at him through her binoculars. "Yeah...fucking pervert, every day you sick bastard!" She yelled,

She turned her gaze upward to the open window a few floors above, there she was, that whore cooking drugs! Flo was sure she was a drug dealer, the open window with constant smoke pouring out was a tell tale sign of a meth lab, plus the dark haired woman was some kind of immigrant, a gypsy perhaps? People were constantly going in and out of her place, the traffic was nonstop.

Her gaze was directed at the black guy on the sidewalk,  always panhandling, handling little cards out to his marks. Probably going to take all that money and buy booze, so he can waste the rest of his miserable life!

The shop across the street, was run by a couple of sinister middle eastern men, wearing turbans. Any day she was waiting for one of then to blow up the block. For now they sold groceries in the Bodega, they were always curt in their conversations, probably a front for illegal arms traders.

On Tuesdays her bridge club came, she would often explain the goings on of the deplorables living just across the street. There were many more, some more suspicious than others, all of questionable character. It had been months since she'd seen anyone from her club, because of the pandemic. 

The young man, who for a few months now, climbs the fire escape every night to sneak into the empty apartment, probably to do drugs.she had reported him several times to the authorities, but they did nothing about him, just another homeless vagrant disrupting her view. 

The pandemic lock down was horrible, Florence  had to rely on a delivery service for groceries,  and they always got the order wrong, she never tipped them because of this incompetence, their employee turnover was constant. She wondered what she would do without them though,even if their services were clearly substandard. She was waiting for them to deliver as she noticed the kid climbing the fire escape again, she would fix his wagon, she thought. She picked up her phone and called the police. They hadn't responded in a suitable fashion before, so she had to embellish a little bit.  "Yes officer! I  just saw a man climb the fire escape and break into an apartment across the street, he ran from the alley where there's a  woman screaming,  I don't know if he raped her or robbed her...." the dispatcher asked for the address, and then said they'd send a car over. That ought to stop the little hooligan, she thought, as she sat and waited for the delivery which was always late.

Florence had begun to nod off as she waited. But her slumber had been interrupted by a gunshot.

There was flurry of red and blue flashes outside her building,  she went to the window to see if they'd caught that ne're do well. There were at least four cop cars outside. This would be worth going down to take a look,  besides they might need a witness to point him out. She hurried down to the lift, and waited impatiently,  the door opened and she rushed in pushing the ground floor button. Serves the little sneak right, she hoped they'd lock him up for a while, so she didn't have to see him skulking about.

It was dark but the lights from the police cars illuminated the building.

The gypsy drug cooker was out on the stoop crying, being cradled by the disheveled pervert. Joining  them was one of the turban wearing terrorists and the tall black panhandling drunk, Florence walked over to ask them what happened. 

"Hey what's going on here? " she looked perturbed,  "A friend of mine was shot by the cops,  he's dead." She wailed. The disheveled perv spoke." Johnny was a good kid, I  have seizures and he used to bring me my prescriptions. " he bowed his head, comforting the woman. "He made my bread deliveries, after both his parents died from covid, I  told him he could stay in the empty apartment upstairs, until I  found the key." The black man spoke up,"Julia here was the super for the building, I brought John here from my church, trying to help him out till he got on his feet,poor kid was only 16....Imir!" He embraced the turbaned man. Julia spoke, " Imir and Dev are Sikhs who run the bodega, they were getting him in their community outreach program,  we were all just trying to help him... its difficult to be a young black kid in the inner city." They all began to cry.

Florence started to sweat, the lights, the crying all began to swirl around her, she collapsed on the sidewalk, as they all rushed to help her. She knew as her heart nearly pounded out of her chest, that she had been wrong about everything.

"Forgive me" she said, as she began to gasp for air.

Submitted: May 23, 2020

© Copyright 2021 dewey green. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Very well written, dewey, and a perfect example of how much harm can be done by false assumptions.

Tue, May 26th, 2020 7:39pm


It was inspired by my ex wife, who constantly judged people by their appearance.
Did I mention she was my Ex?

Sun, May 31st, 2020 10:05am

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