I WITNESSED THE MURDER OF... OUR MAILBOX!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates (aka Granny Gee) March 06, 2012
One evening just before dark .. I was standing at the glass door looking downhill to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. We lived up on a small mountain ... it was like a park. Everyone who came to visit loved being up there... the peacefulness, birds singing their songs.
Tommy loved coming up there, he would relax and one could see he could feel the peacefulness there. I wished with my heart he'd come home to stay for a while to enjoy what he loved there. We asked him to come, he wouldn't... we understood.
Each day I go there... I go every day.... since the second week in February 2011... I haven't missed one day, nor has Skip. We go there to feed the seven feral cats that live in the woods there. They love and know us, though they keep their distance. Once in a while one will come to us. We aren't 'cat people'.... but, we love them dearly. We feel protective of them.
I wish we could bring them here to our new home, but... of course we couldn't take them out of their enviroment where they know the dangers, and how to protect themselves. I would never attempt to try to move them. We will feed them until the day someone else will want to... people who will buy that property.
I walked through the house to the back deck and decided to rearrange a few things. I could look down onto the highway through the trees. It was so pretty up there, so quiet, so......................................................
The huge white pickup slid to a stop... I looked down the hill to it. I could see it had black tinted glass... too dark to see who was inside. I felt afraid for some reason... I stood frozen there as the truck ...sat there for several moments.......
All of a sudden that huge white pickup began spinning around in one spot, making the God-awfulest sound! It spun completely around as I watched in shock, feeling that terrible sound go through my body..... thinking 'are they coming up here!' They began driving forward fast, sliding to a stop at the end of our driveway. I had run back to the front glass door to see what was happening... knowing in my mind that I knew where Tommy's gun was... I was truly afraid. Thankfully, Tommy had left it there .... he had a permit for it. He used to be a bounty hunter at one time.
I stood there watching that big white truck... it just ..sat there. I don't think anyone ever saw me ... or they may have driven up our driveway... I don't even want to think what would have happened. I know I wouldn't have 'just stood there' for them to hurt me... but, for the moment I never thought any farther than to see what was going to happen... they weren't sitting there for nothing.
It seemed so quiet, I held my breath... I felt fear. What are they doing? I don't know 'why' I thought 'they'.......... but, I was proved right when the .............passenger door opened!
A very tall, handsome white guy got out, he looked around... I 'knew' he was going to walk up here... I just knew that he was. They must be mad because I looked at them from our back deck!
That guy began to walk quickly .... toward our mailbox. Our mailbox was one I had painted a farm scene on... it was very pretty. Lately our mailboxes and some of the distant neighbors' mailboxes had been destroyed...... oh my God! My eyes couldn't believe what I saw!
That clean-cut, handsome guy had something against his side... I saw him raise his arms, at first I thought it was a shotgun.... no! It was a bat!
When he reached our mailbox... he began violently beating it ...beating it like he was beating a person... he was killing our mailbox! I did go into shock, then.
Each time he struck that mailbox... I felt it. I watched in horror seeing something no one would ever sees... I felt so numb, so afraid. I stood there as if in a dream seeing him beating the mailbox with such fury... is he coming up here?
My mind couldn't comprehend seeing such a nice, clean-cut, handsome guy doing something so awful... seeing such violence from him.
He stopped after beating the mailbox 'forever'... he put the bat to his side... and began rapidly walking back to the huge white pickup truck. He opened the door... and got in.
The truck began spinning in one spot as it took off up the road. It didn't come up the driveway, it kept going.
I kept standing there... I was in total shock at witnessing something normally no one would ever see... that's how people go and murder someone... I could visualize that guy actually.... beating a person with that bat. It was so violent, making me sick to my stomach. He seemed so mad! so angry! so wanting to kill something! I 'felt' so much violence from him... I know if he saw me... I would have been in danger.
I took my cellphone from its case and began trying to call Skip to tell him...we lived in a isolated area where one couldn't just call on a cellphone and expect to have a signal... you had to almost stand on your head to get a signal. I couldn't get him.
It was getting dark and I was beginning to tremble now... they could come back. I began dialing the number to the sheriff's department. They sent a deputy out ... he was a welcomed sight. Skip drove up, he was upset to learn what happened. He knew what he'd do 'if they came back'... he reached out to hug me, saying he wished he'd been there.
We never found out who those people were, but, more mailboxes were destroyed throughout the month on that lonely old road. We never put up a pretty mailbox again as long as we lived there, because that had made the third mailbox that was destroyed.
I can still look into my mind and see the picture of that guy... one could see that he didn't look like he was a mailbox murderer... but, he was... I saw him beat it to death with my own eyes.
The death of our mailbox affected me for quite some time. I couldn't get over seeing a face on 'who did such terrible things'... he didn't ever know I saw him.
I worked for a long time making our mailbox beautiful.. I painted a barn on on it with a sign at the top of the barn door saying 'Bates Farm'. I painted chickens, a horse, and beautiful trees, grass, flowers, sky, clouds and sunshine on that mailbox. It reflected happiness.
Maybe the happy colors and the happiness from that mailbox made that guy angry.... angry enough to murder our mailbox. We laid it to rest in the trashcan... its days were over. All the colors and trees, grass, sky, sunshine, barn, chickens, flowers, horse, clouds were beaten into one...... big, crumpled mass of metal.
They slid to a stop after passing our driveway and mailbox... could it be that when seeing the happy mailbox just sitting there innocently..... they had to destroy it? I wonder how many people that guy has beaten.. he was a big, tall guy. I sensed such violence and anger in him, I sensed danger from him.
I have seen mailboxes destroyed when kids do that for a prank... that is so different from what I witnessed. That guy 'went farther' than to merely destroy our mailbox... he meant for it to 'die'.
Throughout time I sometimes take certain memories out of 'storage' to look, feel and sense them again to 'see and know why', hoping to figure out answers to questions I have in my mind. This is one of the memories I 'look' at sometimes. I always 'put it back up'.... I don't have a answer for 'why' he did that.
Yes, that was the day I witnessed a murder... of a mailbox. Our mailbox... it was laid to rest in the trashcan. It's still an unsolved mystery.
This could have been a funny story if there hadn't been such violence involved. I think to myself... I've never seen a mailbox that made me feel so ... angry. I wish it could have been kids that I'd caught in the act.... it would have been funny at the same time, as not funny. It would have been somehow 'more innocent'..........
Colors As I Go
grief (32) only child (4) Scary (2) Boiled eggs (1) Distrust (1) Don't call me Faye (1) Dying (1) I hate to be called Faye (1) I'm afraid of the dark (1) Middle age woman (1) Pain that reaches the soul.. can't be seen (1) Running (1) Where did my youth go? (1) dying in a beautiful way (1) life is fragile (1) light on my path (1) my son (1)