The Peeping Tom of Willoughby
By: Stephanie L. Robertson
I’m not a peeping Tom.
The residents of Willoughby can rest easy.
Those rumors are false!
I do have a problem, however.
An embarrassing secret:
I sleep walk.
Please…It’s not funny.
I’ve done everything from hanging bells on my doors to tying a rope from my foot to my bed post. Nothing works. I can untie rope in my sleep, apparently.
I’ve been a sleepwalker ever since I moved back to Willoughby and into my parents old house. I’ve come to the conclusion that most folks are suspicious of an unmarried 35-year-old male. It’s none of their business that I lost the love of my life ten years ago and will never love again. I suspect that the accident drove me back to Willoughby and may be the cause of my walking. More about that, later.
Whatever makes me walk, unfortunately, sent me to the window of our illustrious post-mistress. Her stupid Papillon, Smirkymonkey, woke her with her barking. (The dog’s barking, not the post-mistress!) There I was, from what I’ve heard Deputy Morris Greene say, peering into the woman’s living room window.
Greene’s a good fellow, unlike that no-good drunken sheriff of ours. Greene was called to the scene and questioned me, later, at the station. He sent me home and promises to keep an eye out for me if he sees me walking while patrolling his midnight rounds…about when I start walking.
It doesn’t always work, but at least I haven’t peeked in the post-mistresses’ window lately.
Last night, I learned a secret about another Willoughby neighbor.
Apparently, I’m not the only Willoughbean who roams the streets of town at night.
I actually woke during one of my nightly rambles. I found myself outside of Mayline Crisco’s house. A noise woke me, I guess. Granted, I was probably half asleep when I saw a horned creature rise from Mayline’s forsythias. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Two bulbous eyes bore into mine, and a twisted mouth pealed a harmony with a scream of my own.
True, I was half-asleep.
But I know I saw something.