Grouch Balls.(Stephen Pearmine) Grouch balls.


Down the road lived an old man whose nickname was Grouch Balls. The reason for this was because he was constantly in a bad mood. His real name was Geoffrey Addenhall, and he was nearly 80. In three months it would be his birthday. The problem was he hated that time of year like he hated everything else. He wasn't always like this as 27 years ago something terrible happened which changed him into the person he was now, embittered, angry and self loathing.

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Two brothers kicked a ball about on the road close to where they lived. They were aware of Grouch Balls who lived four houses away and were warned by their parents not to antagonize him because he could get really nasty.

One of the brothers named Luke turned to his younger sibling, then said, "I dare you to kick the ball into his garden?"

The other brother, Paul, looked at Luke in shock. "Mum and dad said he's nuts. The last thing I want to do is piss him off."

Luke seemed disappointed by this. "You're such a baby. Can't believe you're my brother. Chicken. That's all you are, is a chicken. Cluck, cluck."

"Then you do it if you're brave enough," he answered.

Luke not wanting to lose face in front of his younger brother dribbled the ball further up the road, then without giving it much thought kicked it as hard as he could in the direction of the man's house. The ball flew up into the air at speed, smacking the left window hard. Luke froze. For a few seconds nothing happened, then the front door opened, and Grouch Balls appeared, looking furious. In his right hand, he held a long knife.

"How dare you disturb me from my afternoon nap, bloody kids? Where is it? I'll stab it, and then you won't have a ball anymore to wake me up with," he yelled.

Luke and Paul were absolutely terrified, as they'd heard the stories about him. They watched the man searching his garden until, between some red roses, the ball came into view. Then, like a maniac, he stabbed it countless times. The ball was destroyed. Both brothers were inconsolable. Paul began to cry.

Luke wasn't standing up for this. "You've made my little brother cry. Why did you destroy my ball, you brute?"

Geoffrey picked up the flat ball from the lawn and proceeded back inside the house. Geoffrey was getting too old for this. He felt a tightness in his chest, then sat down. He took one of his heart pills to calm him. After a while, he felt better.

.........................

A few days later a girl of 9 was struck by a car while she played on the other side of the road, then the vehicle drove off. Geoffrey had observed this from his living room window.

He thought back to the petrified look on her face before the vehicle had hit her, which reminded him of the boy from years ago, before everything went wrong.

Maybe this was a sign, a sign that the burden he had to bear was getting on top of him. Yes, he had heart problems and took tablets for depression and anxiety which he believed stemmed from what he'd done, but somehow he'd coped, until now.

Eventually, through the window, he saw two police cars and an ambulance, then the terrible sight of the girl half on the path and half on the road. Her body was lifeless. Geoffrey felt despair.

The girl's mother, realising what had happened, ran out of her house frantically, where a police officer tried to calm her down.

Geoffrey couldn't take anymore and pulled the curtains shut. For the rest of the day, he sat in darkness. All he thought about was the boy and the awful events of that late December night.

.................................

Geoffrey hadn't ventured out of the house for a week. He couldn't face anyone if the truth be told. The guilt was eating him up inside, seeing the girl in the hit-and-run the other day brought it all back. He needed to do something, then an idea came to him. The boy's mother had never known what happened to her son. The old man realised he couldn't bring the boy back, but if he wrote a letter explaining what had happened that night, this might bring her some peace. It wouldn't make him feel any better, but the poor woman needed to know the truth.

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The next day, after doing some research online, Geoffrey found where she now resided. He wrote a letter explaining everything and how sorry he was for what he'd done, without giving his name and details. The following morning, he posted it.

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She looked at the photo longingly of her son shortly before he went missing. It'd been such a long time without him. Her husband was no longer alive, so she spent most of her time in the house alone. Her mobility wasn't great, so if she walked to the shops, it would take ages. Thankfully, a kind neighbour called Susan would pick up some items for her when she had time.

Christine touched her boy's face in the black-and-white picture. "I miss you, my sweet Nathan. And I think about you every day, because you mean the world to me."

A tear came to her eye.

The sound of the post dropping to the floor meant the postman had just been. With her walking stick to help her, Christine made her way to the entrance to the bungalow. She observed three envelopes on the door mat. So she wouldn't lose her balance, she picked them up slowly.

Back in the living room, the frail woman sat down in her comfy chair, then opened each envelope carefully using a small knife. The last envelope she opened had a handwritten letter in it.

It read:

Dear Christine.

For a long time now, I have carried the burden of what I've done. On the 17th December, the year 1995, as I was driving home late from the pub, I hit a boy as he played in the road. I swear to you, I didn't see him until it was too late. The road was dark with only one light at the end, so visibility was terrible. I'm not making excuses for what I did, and I've never forgiven myself for what happened. After the accident I panicked, and with great regret I buried his body in a woodland many miles away. The woodland is situated near to a town called Chalfont St Giles. A couple of days later, as I struggled with it, I saw a poster of a missing child and recognised the boy straightaway. It said he was missing. I understand there's nothing I can say to make this better, but I just needed you to know the truth of what really happened that awful night.

She put the letter down on the coffee table in complete shock. The tears then came. Half an hour later, she rang the police.

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He hadn't left the house for about three weeks apart from late night food shopping. So far, he hadn't heard anything since posting the letter. He now understood why his neighbours disliked him, because he'd treated them terribly. He'd been under a dark cloud for so long that it had become his life. If only things could've been different. Suddenly, a knock was heard from the entrance.

Who could that be?

Geoffrey proceeded down the hallway to the door, then opened it. In front of him was one of his neighbours. Her name was Elizabeth, and she lived 4 doors down and had two boys.

"Hello, how can I help you?" Geoffrey asked.

The woman seemed a little shocked, then replied, "I didn't expect that. I thought you were going to shout at me or something, but I'm here because I was worried about you. No one's seen you for a while. Even the other day, when some younger children were making a noise in front of your house, I was surprised you didn't appear. I'm not here to pry, but I thought you'd had an accident or something."

Geoffrey was taken aback. "That means a lot that you'd think of me in that way, but I don't deserve it. The way I've treated all of you over the years was disgusting. Recently, I'm trying to rid myself of some demons, if that makes any sense. But thank you again for checking up on me. That means a lot."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "If you ever need to talk about anything, then I'm always here. I must go, and I'm glad you're okay. Goodbye, Geoffrey."

"Goodbye, Elizabeth," he replied.

He closed the door and walked to the kitchen to prepare some lunch. After eating lunch, there was another knock from the entrance.

Maybe it was another neighbour to see if he was okay?

In the living room, Geoffrey looked out of the window, and the first thing he saw was a police car parked on the road in front. At that moment, the guilt he'd felt for so long lessened.

He opened the front door to be confronted by two policemen.

One of them then said, "Are you Geoffrey Addenhall, sir? We are here to ask you about a hit-and-run which occurred in 1995. Is it okay if we come in and ask you some questions?"

"Yes, that's fine. I've been expecting you," he said. "But how did you find me?"

There was a brief silence, then the officer replied, "The letter you sent to Mrs Johnson, we found traces of your DNA on it."

The End.


   

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