Over the Fence
Authors: Melanie Moreland
Over the Fence
Copyright © 2015 Melanie Moreland
Published by Melanie Moreland
All rights reserved
ISBN # 978-0-9936198-5-4
Copyright Registration # 1120986
Edited by D.J. White
Cover design by Melissa Ringuette,
Monark Design Services
Formatted by Perfectly Publishable
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 book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Other Titles by Melanie Moreland
This is for all of you who think you aren’t “enough.”
I have something to tell you—YOU ARE.
You are
you—
which is perfect.
Never let anyone tell you different.
We are all enough.
For my online readers who asked—this is for you.
And finally, to my Matthew—my reason for everything.
I love you.
I stepped inside the house, forcing the door shut behind me with a resounding slam. It echoed off the walls of the almost empty rooms, the floor under my feet shaking from the impact.
That felt good.
When I bought the place, the woman presenting the house had pointed out all the “little features” of the space. Her demeanor was enthusiastic as she showed me drawers that shut on their own, cupboards that closed without a sound, and explained about the extra soundproofing in the walls. The best feature, she insisted, was all the entry doors were the same—no matter how hard you pushed them, they closed with the smoothest whisper. “It’s great”—she had beamed—“you’ll never disturb your neighbor with the sound of a slamming door!”
I removed one of the gadgets as soon as I moved in, and left all the others, but off came the “silencer” on the door leading from the garage. I used that door the most.
Some days, you had to be able to slam a door. Today was one of them.
I moved through the house, dropping keys and my wallet, shedding my clothes. I hit the shower, letting the hot water pour over my back and loosen the tight muscles. They were a direct result of spending all day hunched over a keyboard.
It was bad enough having to service people who knew nothing about computers all the time. The days were worse when a moron turned off the antivirus software on purpose, so they could watch porn movies at their desk. Because of one person’s inane action, the entire system was infected and had to be fixed. The worst part—he didn’t even look ashamed at being caught doing it.
I groaned as my head hit the wall; spare me from these fucking idiots.
Toweling off my hair, I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and stepped into the small backyard. Despite the sun, the early summer air was cool. I slumped into my chair, cracked the top and took a deep swallow of the cold liquid. I threw my towel on the table and looked around at the bleak space. My small patio led to an even smaller patch of grass consisting mostly of weeds and dirt. Surrounding the entire yard was a fence; an eight-foot tall, solid fence. I had paid extra to have it taller than normal. Thick, cedar planks and a wide top rail, which added another six inches to the height, completed the structure, offering complete privacy from the world around me.
I had only one neighbor to worry about—the townhouse complex was situated on a small cul-de-sac, the houses grouped in varying sizes. This small section had only two houses and backed onto the dense woods behind us, which was why I chose this particular house. Between the fence and the property layout, it was a small oasis. Bleak—but private.
I polished off the beer and went inside to grab some dinner, cursing when I studied the contents of the refrigerator. Aside from the remaining beer and condiments, it was basically empty. The freezer held nothing except a bottle of vodka and an empty ice cube tray. I had meant to go grocery shopping, but after the day I experienced, it had slipped my mind. Grabbing the last of some lunch meat and slightly stale bread, I threw together a sandwich. I took it, and another beer, out back and sat down to eat. After swallowing, I sniffed at the meat before taking another bite. It had a distinctly strange flavor to it. With a shrug, I continued to munch away; figuring if I consumed enough beer, it would cancel out any danger contained within the sandwich. I’d go to the grocery store tomorrow, but for tonight I’d have to make do with what I had on hand.
I heard movement next door and shifted in my seat, remembering I had a new neighbor. The last one was a business man who was scarcely home, and had moved out a few weeks ago. We exchanged the occasional greeting if we ran into each other while I was washing my car or grabbing the paper. I had seen the moving truck on the weekend, and heard a woman’s voice at one point, but otherwise I didn’t pay much attention. I hadn’t known my other neighbor well at all, and didn’t expect the new one to be any different.
As I listened, I heard someone moving around, the unmistakable sound of boxes being broken down and papers folded. A pleasant voice humming softly made me aware it was a woman in the other yard. Another sound caught my ear and I wasn’t sure what it was until the scent hit me a few moments later.
