The Township to the East Is Called Paradise
Despite her setbacks, Jilly continued looking for a way to end her marriage with the imaginary man she had met a year ago Sunday on her way to First United Church in Montville, Ohio. Jilly had just lost her job as an assistant at the Willow Creek branch of Geauga County’s public library. Her father had recently passed away. Her first child, Elizabeth, had failed kindergarten the previous year. And the Datsun had conked out on Highway 422 on her way to an interview two Thursdays before.
Still, she kept praying for a viable way for Palestine to live peacefully with powerful Israel in the coming millennium. Her mom thought she was a bit nuts. The previous week, Jilly had told her mother about this new guy and how she loved him and couldn't find a way to break up with him even though he did not really exist. She kept telling Gertrude how she really did love him, that he was really nice, and that his kisses were the best she had ever experienced in her many years of dating the “barbaric opposite sex.” Gertrude said, “But honey, remember, you are married to the man. It is not easy to get a divorce these days even if he isn't real.” Jilly did not comment other than, “Sure.”
Elizabeth liked staying in her room. Jilly had a two bedroom apartment in the “downtownish” section of Parkman right next to the Marathon gas station. The other building there was a hardware store. Elizabeth’s dreams were more romantic that her surroundings. She wanted to live in a larger small town and drive faster than 35 miles an hour when she grew up. She wanted to own a horsey. She wished she was pretty. She dreamed of nice boys. And she wanted to have a bigger family with two cute boys and a husband when she reached the age of 25.
In the end, these three females were all destroyed by the man in Jilly’s dreams. Of course the event happened on a dark night in the middle of winter. And no one ever caught the murderer.
It was February 4, one day away from Grandma’s birthday. The three had decided to go to the Marathon station for hotdogs and a bowl of chicken soup, which they microwaved there. In the middle of their supper, in walked a tall woman. She was masquerading as a man in a black trench coat. He/she said right off the bat, “You three live around here?” Jilly became the leader and replied, “Yeah, next door. Who are you?” The woman/man said, “I am a dream to some, and to others, I am their worst future.” Jilly seemed happy with this unique answer and asked the man/lady to have a seat at their booth. The odd person asserted, “No, let’s go to your place, now! I want to show you three something.” Neither Jilly nor the two others asked what.
Back at the apartment, the he/she knocked them out with a hammer Jilly had put by her door in case evil persons lurked outside. He/she tied them up face to face in a threesome and wrapped duct tape around their legs and their asses. Their one mass of womanhood (grandma, mother, daughter) looked funny lying on the linoleum floor. They were not found for six months, when Jilly’s lease was up and the landlord knocked at her door. By then they were skeletons. The murderer was never found, since he/she was not really a human being. The case was investigated for a few months and then tossed aside.
The pastor never said a thing about any of this to his congregation because a good pastor never brings up bad news. The community kept growing. The Marathon station made more room for those who thought the place a restaurant. The hardware store added a small addition that consisted of a lumberyard. Lots of people were moving away from the city and finding that Montville and Parkman were quiet places to live if you minded your own business and made no assertions.
Copyright 2010, Daniel Gallik
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.