“The Landlady” Ending
“No my dear. Only you,” she said.
Billy thought about all the things the landlady had said that evening. He suddenly started to shake and breathe heavily. Something struck his mind. “I know, I know…”
“What is it? Speak up dear,” the landlady said as if nothing was happening in that dark, deathly moment.
“Mulholland…” Billy yelled through his heavy breaths. “Missing… murdered.” Billy’s head slowly fell back onto the plump chair’s arm. His tea splattered on his chest. The landlady walked out of the room and came back with a rag. She slowly cleaned Billy’s shirt as if he was still alive, talking to the inanimate specimen.
“Mr. Weaver would you like for me to put this in the washroom? Okay I will.” She stood up and picked …show more content…
December 17, 1946, when was that? she thought. She had definitely killed a victim on that night from what she remembered. She walked over to the guest book. The date was not there. Her mind was boggled but she could not let that bother her. The landlady started to take Billy downstairs then she stopped. December 17, 1946, she thought. Billy’s head moved forward and his neck was bare. The tag on his shirt said Porter Wilkins, as if he was borrowing it from someone. “You are the son of Mr. Wilkins aren’t you?” Still talking to Billy’s dead body, she said “Now I remember! Your father, he had a scar down his leg and I had just found out right before I was about to stuff him! I could not get him to sign the book, he never agreed to it.” BRRRIIIIINNNGG! It was the doorbell, but the landlady felt that she should not open it. She felt it in her gut; it would not be good to open it. BRRRIIIIINNNGG! Again, she was just trying to cut a boy open. Could whoever that was stop ringing the doorbell? Then it stopped.
The landlady had just got into her apron and gloves from upstairs and had her tools out. Then, BRRRIIIIINNNGG! The landlady stormed up the dark coffee colored staircase with streams of yarn and string coming out. Her feet made muffled up bangs on the hollow wood. BRRRIIIIINNNGG! Now it seemed as if it was mocking her. Her face red with fury she swung open the door. It was a girl, who looked around the age of eight. Perfect girl, possibly the first female
“No my dear. Only you,” she said.
Billy thought about all the things the landlady had said that evening. He suddenly started to shake and breathe heavily. Something struck his mind. “I know, I know…”
“What is it? Speak up dear,” the landlady said as if nothing was happening in that dark, deathly moment.
“Mulholland…” Billy yelled through his heavy breaths. “Missing… murdered.” Billy’s head slowly fell back onto the plump chair’s arm. His tea splattered on his chest. The landlady walked out of the room and came back with a rag. She slowly cleaned Billy’s shirt as if he was still alive, talking to the inanimate specimen.
“Mr. Weaver would you like for me to put this in the washroom? Okay I will.” She stood up and picked …show more content…
December 17, 1946, when was that? she thought. She had definitely killed a victim on that night from what she remembered. She walked over to the guest book. The date was not there. Her mind was boggled but she could not let that bother her. The landlady started to take Billy downstairs then she stopped. December 17, 1946, she thought. Billy’s head moved forward and his neck was bare. The tag on his shirt said Porter Wilkins, as if he was borrowing it from someone. “You are the son of Mr. Wilkins aren’t you?” Still talking to Billy’s dead body, she said “Now I remember! Your father, he had a scar down his leg and I had just found out right before I was about to stuff him! I could not get him to sign the book, he never agreed to it.” BRRRIIIIINNNGG! It was the doorbell, but the landlady felt that she should not open it. She felt it in her gut; it would not be good to open it. BRRRIIIIINNNGG! Again, she was just trying to cut a boy open. Could whoever that was stop ringing the doorbell? Then it stopped.
The landlady had just got into her apron and gloves from upstairs and had her tools out. Then, BRRRIIIIINNNGG! The landlady stormed up the dark coffee colored staircase with streams of yarn and string coming out. Her feet made muffled up bangs on the hollow wood. BRRRIIIIINNNGG! Now it seemed as if it was mocking her. Her face red with fury she swung open the door. It was a girl, who looked around the age of eight. Perfect girl, possibly the first female