Dear Haddy, I need more than dynamite. | Alyson Tait

Dear Haddy:

I have lived here in Salem for as long as I can remember. For all intents and purposes, it may as well have been all my life — and always in the same house, of course. Every single memory I have is in this house. It’s my home. And that’s fine. Honestly! I love it here, and I love this place. But it means that I have had the same *neighbors* for as long as I can remember—the same foul people living next to me.

I know. I know. As an adult, I shouldn’t use that kind of language! I should be respectful and all, but the truth is that I absolutely hate them to smithereens. I’m not too fond of their faces and their bodies and their stiff suits and every word that comes out of their mouths.

I can not remember a time where they knocked on my door, and I didn’t find myself in a fitful rage by the end of the night. And like I said… I have lived here for a long time!

I guess that brings me to why I am writing this letter. It has the potential to put my identity and reputation out there, but I desperately need your advice.

Due to events that occurred over the last six months, I have decided that I can not take anymore. There is no chance in heaven or hell that I can spend another moment dealing with these people, much less another lifetime!

I must be rid of this situation, and me moving out of the only house I have ever known is simply not an option. I have tried everything I can think of; allow me to lay out the solutions I have already exhausted:

1) Driving a nail into the oak tree behind their house. They suffered headaches, making them even more insufferable.

2) Effigies. My dolls went missing. Four separate times they disappeared.

3) Dynamite. I’m not proud of this extreme measure, but I must admit the full list.

4) Filing complaints with the local ordinance.

5) Confronting them face to face.

6) And now... this, I suppose.

Please, help. What am I to do?

Signed- Wailing in the West End.

***

Dear Wailing,

Meet me at the creek. Sundown, three days from now. I’ll be standing by the hollow tree.

I have your solution.

Signed, Haddy the Handler.

Alyson lives in Maryland where she got married, had her daughter, and began her writing journey. She has appeared in Altered Reality Magazine and (mac)ro(mic). You can find her on twitter @rudexvirus1.