Neighbors

By J. N. Sadler

NEIGHBORS

Retired social misfit, Oxnard Chockley, lives in the small town of Dellatrove with his obese black cat, Bacchus. A very strange little man moves in across the street whose sole purpose is to abduct Oxnard and deliver him to an alien force for the purpose of recruiting other specimens to study in the limbo-like land of Etheria.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477145050

J. N. Sadler

Janet Sadler is a resident of Havertown, Pennsylvania. She has published two volumes of poetry with her illustrations: Headwinds and Full Sail and has been published in many small literary magazines. Once member of the Mad Poets Society in Media, PA, and also the Overbrook Poets in Philadelphia, she reads her poetry at local venues. She was the former poetry director at Tyme Gallery in Havertown, PA and at Baldwin’s Book Barn in West Chester, PA. She has authored thirty flash fictions novels. Twenty-seven titles have been published through Xlibris and can be found at Xlibris.com, under J. N. Sadler Author’s email address: [e-mail]

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Copyright © 2012 by J. N. Sadler.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Cover Painting: ‘’Return to the Egg’’ by J.N. Sadler

Rev. date: 10/27/2021

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1     Small Town Community

Chapter 2     The Recluse Of Dellatrove

Chapter 3     No Place Like Home

Chapter 4     Home As A Fortress

Chapter 5     Phenomenon In The Street

Chapter 6     Newsy

Chapter 7     The Triumphant Creature

Chapter 8     Duty To The Rosen’s

Chapter 9     BFF TV

Chapter 10   Abduction

Chapter 11   Arrival In A Strange Land

Chapter 12   On A Mission

Chapter 13   A Friend On Pontiac Avenue

Chapter 14   Gladiola’s Family History

Chapter 15   A Ride In The Orb

Chapter 16   Sharing A Meal

Chapter 17   First Night In The New House

Chapter 18   Falling In Love

Chapter 19   Wedding Plans

Chapter 20   The Ceremony

Chapter 21   The Moon Was Their Witness

Chapter 22   The Perfect Honeymoon

Chapter 23   A Change In Plans

Chapter 24   Home At Last

Chapter 25   A Foggy Memory

Chapter 26   Another Trip

Chapter 27   Second Honeymoon

Chapter 28   Making The Baby

Chapter 29   Confirmation

Chapter 30   The Duration

Chapter 31   The Plan Comes Clear

Chapter 32   The Dream Livens

Chapter 33   At Square One

Chapter 34   The Birth And The Journey

Chapter 35   Return Home

Chapter 36   Goodbyes

Chapter 37   The Eternal Home

Chapter 38   The Nurse’s Discovery

CHAPTER 1

Small Town Community

Crisp orange leaves fell silently onto pavements and dotted green grass lawns on a hot fall Saturday afternoon in the mill town of Dellatrove.

Traveling down one of its residential streets, one could hear ball games on televisions from open front doors, the crunching of dead leaves under the feet of walkers, and the occasional whine of a wood-chipping truck. Cars and heavy trucks rolled over new tar on the town’s main highway.

It was hometown USA, a dreamy place to live if one sought a slower pace, a tomato garden with hollyhocks, an emerald lawn surrounded by a white picket fence, and neighbors who gossiped in whispers, sparing the victims of suspicion, embarrassments or hurts. After all, they were all church-goers in Dellatrove.

In this particular section of the town, an older development of pre-war Cape Cod houses painted a picture of Norman Rockwell’s suburbia. It was on Whipple Street where an empty house awaited a new owner. No one in the neighborhood knew his name or his former whereabouts. They suspected it was a he, from a cockeyed rumor that had circulated over the back fence, but maybe it was a single woman or a family unit. Most people in Dellatrove were original owners. It was such a pleasant place to live that hardly anyone moved away; so quiet, so quaint.

Oxnard Chockley lived on Whipple Street, near the corner of the main road, Dodson Pike. He had never married, having lived all his life with his mother, who recently passed away. He and his black cat, Bacchus, remained and would remain until the day he met his demise.

He was retired from the ball-bearing factory at the edge of town. An assembly line worker was all he had aspired to be. As an only child, he kept to himself and remained a ward of his parents until they both died. He was one of those unfortunate children that classmates avoided. He was not a joiner. He passed his exams with high grades, but college was not in his stars. He was socially backward, a man-child.

The assembly line at Jinx and Dawson Ball Bearing Works didn’t lend to fancy thinking or promotions. He was quite content to go to work with his black lunch can and thermos every day and do his thing until the factory whistle blew at close of day. Pride was what he lived for. It was a life of sacrifice and obedience to the work ethic, along with caring for his parents, that made him content.

Dellatrove was a walking town, so he never got his drivers’ license or even desired a car. He was a blank and a voyeur, never going forth into the world, oddly content to stay in the home he always knew would never change. He made himself unapproachable, never making friends or acquaintances on his street or any other.

Storekeepers knew him by his friendly nods and the exchange of goods for money. Occasionally, he would say, hello as he walked by a familiar face. But, that was all. No one really wanted to get close to him. He was an obvious oddball, considered a harmless phenomenon, a mistake.

His mother, Nora, had covered every surface, stuffed chair, and couch with ochre-colored crocheted doilies. The fashion of furniture was circa 1930’s.

His bedroom remained as it was when he was small. He still had the old, amber-colored paper shades on his windows with tassel pulls. His single bed still had a coverlet with red, white, and blue double-wing airplanes on it. A huge brown teddy bear sat in his rocking chair, on tied-on cushions that matched the curtains. He had a dresser, a desk, and a trunk at the end of his bed, filled with his old toys. The whole house held treasures rare enough to bring big bucks at Sotheby’s auction.

With his pension check, the money his parents left him, and from never spending a frivolous penny, he made an adequate living watching television, doing crossword puzzles, and not answering his phone. Only now and again did he become curious about what it was like on the outside.

Bacchus was good company. They were both getting on in years although he didn’t think about his age or the cat’s. Oxnard Chockley lived in the moment, as one of those weird thought-evoking figures in every neighborhood that is seen walking to and fro, but never with anyone else; the kind of person one wonders about, but whose destination is never known. The mystery of these strange characters’ existence is never solved.

One could guess he was a loner all throughout school. He excelled in his studies right up until his senior year when his father became victim of a long-term, fatal illness.

Oxnard’s life had more purpose and direction in the home than in school. At work, the repeated action of hand to conveyor belt was as important to him as finding a cure for cancer. He was a challenge to his teachers. They gave up on motivating him and just passed him on with honors at graduation.

He remembered his father saying, What is important is family. The rest of the world can go to hell!

His dad was raised during the depression and found that tending to the internal affairs of a homestead and giving moral support to his family were the only things he could do. He never went to college or had gotten a decent job, but took a position at Jinx and Dawson after the Second World War, where he was a gunner.

On his dying breath, his father said to him, You’re a good boy, Ox. You are our unsung hero, taking care of matters on the home front.

Oxnard thought his father was the best, the wisest, and that his mother was an angel from Heaven.

They watched over young Oxnard like a pair of eagles. And so, he inherited the house, a small nest egg, and his pension from Jinx and Dawson. Now, being retired, he had begun his real life, his own life, free of custodial duties. The only one left to care for now was Bacchus.

CHAPTER 2

The Recluse Of Dellatrove

Oxnard picked up the mail, left between the screen and the front door. There were a few bills and some shiny oversized ads. He stood with one foot on the threshold and one-by-one, tossed the junk mail into the rubbish can on the porch, next to the door.

It was Saturday, like every other day to Oxnard. He was still dressed in his robe at three in the afternoon. He wore no shoes. His pale blue boxer shorts peeked through the opening of his robe, along with his white plump thigh which was covered with dark hair and pimples. An elderly woman, walking her dog on the same side of the street, happened to glance at his house, saw him there, partially