The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven

Chapter 21

Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood” was blasting through the speaker, much to Teddy’s annoyance. He made the mistake of stating he listened to nothing but classical music, so I was trying to liven up his house with jazz. After all, they were very similar, so surely that would not upset his nerves. The long frown on his face informed me that I was wrong, but I danced to the music next to him anyways.

“Come on,” I taunted with an urgent wave of my hand for him to come over. “Dance with me.”

“Sela, I am cooking,” he sighed out with distress. His statement was true, for he was in fact busily working over the stove-top to prepare our dinner.

I childishly lifted up his dish towel and smacked him lightly in the arm. “Dance with me.”

“Afterwards.”

“Promise?”

Teddy grabbed a hold of the towel to tug me towards him. “Promise.” He pecked his lips over mine with a sudden urgency. “Now, have a seat.”

“It’s not ready yet,” I complained. “Why must I sit?”

“The answer is simple,” he reasoned with a raise of his hands. “You are a distraction.”

“A good one though?”

my normal music back

leaned over to kiss him on the side of his neck. “Yes, Teddy,” I

made up, and now all I wanted was to be incredibly affectionate and near him all the time. He was the complete opposite this evening, but I knew there had to be a logical

walked down the long hall, humming an unknown song to counteract the droning of a nonsensical commercial. I paused in front of the staircase, and found myself humming with tighter lips. There was an eerie feeling when I looked up at the staircase; a chill ran down my spine that was beyond explanation. I looked downwards at my bare feet, taking in the coldness of the floor. My mind suddenly recalled the first time I met Teddy, and his familiar voice wafting past an open window down to the gardens where I was currently waiting for him.

focused on stirring around the mashed potatoes to pay attention to me. I tapped him lightly

face and he leaned forward to peck a kiss over my

wooden spoon continued to stir around the silver pot, mixing in the butter and herbs that he had just added to give the mashed potatoes more flavour. I leaned against the side

alone,”

“Always?”

“Yes, of course.”

hand froze for a moment, and then he darted his eyes in my

“No, I live alone.”

on the ground. Her white fur was brushed off the front of my dress and then I moved over

of the pot. “What is it?” groaned Teddy with his posh accent

here on Monday, I thought I heard you talking to

“But that’s impossible.”

in front of him. “No one lives upstairs with

alone.” The spoon was taken up from the pot with a sharp movement of

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