Driveway Wars

By C.M. Heil

Small towns are funny places. Don't be fooled by their undisturbed beauty, they are not pristine. Give people the opportunity for a perfect utopia, they will destroy it. A town can be spoiled by too many businesses, traffic lights, and, above all, citizens. That is where the rot may not merely exist but thrive. The Thomases have lived in Thornwood, New Hampshire, most of their lives, same as their neighbors. But given the ebb and flow of life, they have seen citizens come and go. Some exit with tears, others with a hard push. One particular neighbor was unnoticed to them for years until the introduction of an unruly dog. The altercations were not only ongoing and worsening but widening. Other neighbors and the police were getting tangled in a feud that Brian and Sharon Thomas thought should never have escalated to such a level. And when it couldn't even get resolved at that level before lawyers and courts got involved, Sharon Thomas took it upon herself to handle it. The way she handled things all her life. Families pitted against one another, out in the woods is not a good combination. Even the Hatfields and McCoys had to start somewhere.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645442738

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Backdrop

Picture a small town. Think Norman Rockwell. Lots of trees, a small pond near the center where people ice skate in the winter and fish in the summer. There’s a covered bridge that crosses over a section of the pond as it empties into a little stream. Past the water’s edge, there’s a forest with walking trails that go for miles. As expected, Main Street goes right through the heart of it. The street is wide with a broad shoulder that serves as the sidewalk. Most driveways are short and lead to a quaint house or a grand colonial. In either case, the houses, especially on Main Street, are picture-perfect. Beautiful homes with ideal front yards and immaculately manicured lawns.

Even the school is an old three-story home made larger by an addition put on years ago when the population started to grow and expand. There’s one small general store and a restaurant that is only open for breakfast and lunch. Both of these function out of older remodeled homes. Can you picture it? Like a painting or a Hollywood set, everything is a facade. It’s only the constructed, perfect face you see, with nothing behind. It could blow over in a stiff wind. That’s a good idea. That picture you had in your mind blow the houses down. The front curtain has fallen, and you see it’s not perfect. The houses are old, ugly, and in need of repair. In some cases, the foundations are fine, in others beyond restoration.

Now, picture the people of the town…and blow them down too.

Welcome to Thornwood, New Hampshire.

Chapter 2

Origins

Sharon Thomas was five years old the first time she tried to kill someone. Attempted murder continued to be an anger management issue throughout her childhood and the major theme discussed during her psychiatric stay. She had appeared to have it all worked out through therapy by adolescence. After that, an ongoing prescription of Prozac, which she actually hadn’t taken in years. She kept filing it as though she was using it, but she was really dumping the pills down the drain or flushing them in the toilet. An expensive deception, but she wanted a record of the continued use of the drug at the pharmacy.

She had also found two other successful ways of coping; writing was a mental outlet that gave the demon inside her a voice, and martial arts was the physical outlet that gave the demon fists.

She was sure that the first thing her therapist, her new therapist, would bring up would be that day of infamy that started it all. It always was. The psychiatrist she had at the institution, Dr. Sophia Voss, had remained so after her release. The doctor had insisted upon it. Sharon was fairly certain that she was the only patient she had, outside the institution walls. Voss had given young Sharon guidance into her adult life. But Voss had recently retired and recommended the new gal. For some reason, she had always felt she was more able to be candid with a woman. Sharon had started with a male doctor when she was first committed, but then he transferred. After that she got Voss, and it was different. The weird sexual tension that sucked the oxygen out of the room with him was gone. She could breathe. She could be herself.

Even though Dr. Rebecca Devaney, the new doctor, would have Sharon’s entire medical file, she knew she would have to relive certain details of her past in her own words today. She would be mindful of her verbiage, emotion, and even cadence. Maybe someday she would be honest, but not yet.

This was how it was when Sharon was young;

To everyone, but her immediate family, she appeared harmless enough with her long, straight, dark hair pulled into pigtails. And big brown eyes to match. That was how she looked in old family photos and was basically how she still looked. But if the eyes are windows into the soul, even at a young age, Sharon’s soul was as dark as her features.

On that infamous day in her life, young Sharon was playing in her yard while her older brother was babysitting. The girl next door came over. Sue McMann did not come to play but to pick on her as always. Sharon never responded back, neither in speech nor in action. She normally let the bully rant, and then they would be on their way.

That day was different for whatever reason. Sharon could not remember. She thought maybe Sue McMann was using more force, maybe the rant lasted much longer, but more than likely, she was just sick of being the silent, good girl and snapped.

Sharon marched into the house, went into her father’s den, climbed up the bookcase a couple of shelves, and was able to reach the shotgun that hung on the wall.

She advanced to her opponent, pointed the gun up into her face (Sharon was younger and smaller than Sue), and pulled the trigger. But nothing happened.

Sharon does remember this, the anger she felt before trying to kill the girl was nothing compared to the rage she felt after, when she didn’t die.

Sue McMann laughed at her.

Sharon hit her across the shins with the barrel of the shotgun.

Sue ran home, crying for her mother.

Sharon also clearly recalled two things in that moment, satisfaction and pride. Her fury was extinguished by looking the enemy in the eye and making it run away. She had defied her fear and found the courage to solve the problem herself. No one had helped her. Everyone else just stood and watched in amazement.

From that day forward, Sharon Thomas took shit from no one. When in a situation that would make most people run, she would do something to make her adversary run.

That day was also strike one.

Chapter 3

The Incident

After coming home from therapy session with Dr. Devaney, and with a renewed prescription of Prozac, she tossed her daily pill down the kitchen sink and turned on the water and looked out the window.

That crazy fucking bitch is in our yard with that mangy mutt of hers! she yelled to her husband in the next room.

What the fuck? he asked. He was not questioning his wife, but the presence of the trespasser outside, before opening the back door and storming into the yard.

Can I help you? he yelled, both because he was so mad at her and to make sure he was heard over the barking dogs.

Brian and Sharon Thomas owned an all-white Siberian husky, Jake, who had been kept secured to a large tree in their side yard at the end of the driveway. Jake was barking his balls off due to a stranger and her unruly dog in his yard. He felt nervous because he couldn’t protect his owners or his turf while tied up. Mindy’s dog, Nalla, was on a leash, but the crazy fucking bitch was still having a huge amount of trouble controlling her animal. The dog was jumping up and down while running circles around Mindy, making her get tangled up in the leash. Every time Nalla’s rotation brought her nearer to Jake, she’d lunge at him and try to bite him.

Nalla was some sort of little collie, like Lassie. She’d never grow to be as big as Lassie, but she was not an ankle bitter either. Seventy-pound Jake was fully grown at three years old but still thought he was a puppy. He could chew Nalla up into little pieces, if he had a mean streak. Normally, Jake loved other dogs and would have liked nothing more than to play. He just didn’t understand why this dog was freaking out. Responding to this, Jake was giving it right back.

I thought I would come over and try to have our dogs work out their issues, Mindy Pelligree said. Mindy was a hippy-looking lady in her midforties. Her hair was long and unkempt. Her clothes were clean but didn’t fit her well, as if she hadn’t shopped in years. She had the clichéd hippy attitude, striving for peace and nonconfrontational.

Brian stooped down to get Nalla away from Jake, and Mindy snapped at him.

Oh! Don’t do that! She’ll bite you!

It was too late. Nalla nipped at him, instead of Jake, and bit him on the hand. Brian took a step back and stuck his booted foot between the dogs. Brian had been a dogsled guide years ago and had been around many dogfights. He knew legs were stronger than arms and that one was able to exert more force while pushing down toward the dog. He also knew Nalla wouldn’t be able to bite through his steel toe construction boots.

"Their issues? he yelled at her. It’s your dog that has the issues, and your issue is that you can’t control it! And now I got bit while you were trespassing in my yard! Get the fuck out of here!"

Mindy yanked on the leash, pulling Nalla toward the driveway, still having trouble controlling her animal.

Sorry, she said over her shoulder as she sulked away. It was obvious by the shocked look on her face that she was insulted by Brian’s gruff manner.

Okay, Jake, they’re leaving. Good boy, he said, patting the dog and trying to calm him down.

He spent a few more minutes reassuring the animal until Mindy and Nalla were out of sight, then he walked back into the house and went to the kitchen sink to wash his wound. It stung a little, but it was bearable.

Sharon walked over to him. What happened?

Fucking dog bit me.

Are you all right? she asked.

Yeah, it’s not that bad, he told her after he rinsed his hand.

What the fuck was she doing in our yard besides irritating our dog? she asked him, trying to take a peek over his shoulder. She was also trying to look at him. Brian went red in the face when he got mad.

She said she wanted the dogs to try and work out their issues. He made a funny face and used a different tone in the last part of the sentence, mimicking Mindy’s voice and demeanor.

So she takes it upon herself to come into our yard to confront our dog without consulting us first. All that’s going to do is piss Jake off. And this from the woman with the No Trespassing signs posted all over her property.

Exactly! Thank you! His wife was making his argument for him. You know I could call the cops right now and have that dog put down for this?

Oh, I know, Sharon said, well aware that her husband wasn’t calling.

Down the street and around the corner, Mindy Pelligree and her boyfriend, Rob Knight, were talking about the same altercation.

You should have heard the way he spoke to me, she said in her monotone voice.

Well, despite his candor, he does have a point, Rob replied.

Rob Knight was an average guy any way you looked at him—average height and build, medium brown hair and eyes, and never raised his temper or voice.

How can you side with him? I’m just trying to get these two animals to get along, she said, practically in tears.

You were trespassing on their property. You wouldn’t like it if they did the same.

I suppose.

And it’s his responsibility to handle his dog, so you should have asked them first. Then he could have done his part to control the situation.

Yes, you’re right, she said and paused. The thought crossed her mind to end the conversation there, but if the police or animal control were to show up, the cat would be out of the bag anyway. Also, Nalla bit him.

Uh, oh. Do you think it was bad?

I don’t think so. It didn’t seem to faze him much.

Hopefully they won’t call the police.

I hope not, she said.

Mindy and Rob worked around the house, anticipating a visit from some type of authority about their dog. Mindy was dreading what might happen, but Rob was almost looking forward to it. Nalla was new to them. Their old dog, Mack, had been great, but he’d gotten old and died, and they hadn’t gotten a new one for