The evening of March 27th brought fear and terror
when Sam Blade stumbled
upon the beaten and battered body
of Stillwaters' darling
lying dead in the parking lot behind her late model Mercedes
What Sam Blade was doing in the parking lot
of FoodMart at such an ungodly hour
would never be known. The fact that
Margaret Scott had been there was all the story they needed.
A woman of stature, widowed young
Margaret had made a name for herself, through her late husband's
business ventures. Some say it was her shrewd mind
that allowed her to grow vast fortunes
Some say it was other things.
Those are the things that were called to mind
when the news of her passing started to spread
through the tiny down of Stillwater.
The local police did their best to keep the particulars under-wraps,
but it was only a matter of seconds
before the local PTA found themselves discussing
what drove single mature woman
to the arms of strangers met
over invisible lines of communication through faked dating profiles
posted as advertisements for their wares.
That she had taken advantage of those wares
was well known. Stillwater ran deep, but was prone
to the same excitement over soap opera drama
that most human collectives were.
Margaret had some strange tastes it would seem,
as evidenced in the odd black leather collection
that was cataloged in the police reports.
If anyone had thought to really question Sam Blade,
he could have told you just how she liked it,
but with seemingly clean hands,
young Sam wasn't volunteering the information
nor the definitions for the toys that were found.
He knew Margaret well enough to know she would forgive him,
no matter where her soul may now rest.
He had only been doing what was demanded of him
and with the plastic bag tied tight around her throat
and his own hungry sounds of satisfaction,
he had not known she had been stuttering their safe word.
He hadn't known, really...
but a new hunger had awakened now
because he knew the power that came
with not listening.