Hattie Hinchcliffe shuffled along the hot sidewalk eager to get home after seeing her doctor for the third time in two weeks. Now in her eighties, she suffered from a multitude of ailments. She held a prescription of some additional breathing medication but she knew she wouldn't bother having it filled. "Better things to do with my money", she mumbled to herself.
Every bone and muscle in her body ached and her breathing was labored. Entering the ill-kept house, she made her way to the kitchen sink for a drink of water.
Hattie had been a widow for more than thirty years. Her husband was shot to death by their wealthy neighbor, Homer Beckworth.
Beckworth's property, a huge sprawling estate, adjoined Hattie's modest property. More than three decades earlier George Hinchcliffe had used Homer's property as a shortcut and was cut down by Homer's shotgun. With his wealth and a team of lawyers Homer stated in his trial that he mistook Mr. Hinchcliffe as an animal. He had been having problems with the animals raiding his huge vegetable garden. In his rage, he fired into the night, so he claimed. He received a slap on the wrist.
Looking out the window over her kitchen sink, Hattie was taken aback by the sight of Beckworth's cat mauling a tiny wild rabbit. She slowly moved to the door and scared the cat away. The poor bunny, still alive, was groping the ground trying to stand.
She gently picked up the animal hoping to bring it inside and nurse it back to health. However, the rabbit snapped at her and pierced a finger with it's sharp teeth. Dropping the rabbit she squeezed her finger to stop the bleeding. Abandoning her desire to aid the rabbit she went inside and covered the bite with a bandage, neglecting to wash the hand.
As the days passed she ignored the small bite wound that was annoyingly still not healed. She seemed to feel rejuvinated the last few days. Her breathing was nearly normal and all those aches and pains that she learned to live with, had all but disappeared. She was amazed with the energy she now had.
She used full dentures for years and one morning she was shocked to discover that she was sprouting three new lower middle teeth. "Is it my imagination, or are my feet getting bigger" she muttered as she tried to get her feet into the now too small shoes. She noticed her feet were acquiring hardened padded areas.
Thinking she must be sleep walking for her old days, Hattie didn't seem disturbed each morning to find tiny bits and pieces of vegetation on her face and nightclothes. The only thing she cared about was that she was feeling forty years younger.
No one ever again ventured close to Homer's property since the controversial shooting death of Mr. Hinchcliffe. He spent his time tending to a large vegetable plot hidden from sight by the huge ten foot high hedges that surrounded his estate. He would harvest what vegetables he himself could consume and toss the remaining bounty in his compost heap never thinking of his less fortunate neighbors.
One night Homer was aroused by outside sounds and could see movement in his garden. Grabbing his shotgun he quietly went out and was surprised to see a huge rabbit ravishing his beautiful vegetables. He didn't hesitate in shooting the huge form before him. To his delight, it fell dead and Homer retreated back to his house.
Early the next morning he grabbed a shovel, intending to bury the dead animal. "Maybe even throw it on the compost pile" he thought. He was stunned when he found the body of his neighbor, old Hattie Hinchcliffe. Her upper torso ripped apart by a shotgun. Bits of cabbage still clutched in her fingers.
A neighbor peering from his upstairs window observed Homer shoving the dead body of Hattie into a freshly dug hole. The police arrived with screeching sirens and arrested him. This time his pleadings that he shot another intruding animal...a HUGE RABBIT...fell on deaf ears. HIS only sound was a HIGH PITCHED SQUEAL when the trap door sprung.
Submitted by: Name WithheldBackground by: Nancy
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