The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven

The ringing of the phone alarmed me at first, breaking me out of my daydream. A towel was tossed over my soaking wet hair and then I sprinted out of the bathroom to find my phone. It was perched over the left side of the couch closest to the door, flashing a bright white light to the darker part of my living room.

“Hello?” My towel was nearly slipping off the side of my head, so I threw it over the back of my shoulder to catch the water that was steadily dripping downwards.

“Sela,” a distinctive Polish accent rang through the speakers. “Hello?”

“Oh, Daphne!” I cried out with pure joy. “It is so good to hear from you again. How are you?”

“Oh,” was murmured faintly, a sound that I barely detected through the speakers. “I’ve been better. I am home now. I haven’t spent much time here, and it feels strange without my husband.”

“Is he any better?”

“Getting there.”

I brushed back a printed orange and red pillow before I took a seat at the edge of my couch. It was late Thursday evening, and I was nearly ready for bed. “Daphne? Are you ready to go back to work on Monday?”

“As long as I work a short morning shift at Woven’s, then I should be fine.” She cleared her throat a little. “I’d give you my afternoon shifts, but I know your time is occupied already.”

“Yes, my schedule is full.”

“I will have to contact one of my other employees then,” she surmised in a tired voice. “But, how are you doing at Woven’s?”

“Oh, I am fine,” I lied, while squinting my eyes funnily. I tried to push back the awkward drive to the bus terminal that I had to endure this afternoon from my mind. “Well, you see…”

“Is he giving you any trouble?” my manager asked with worry. “Sela?”

“No, not really.” I pulled up the towel to cover my damp hair more, for I was currently experiencing a chill. “I didn’t take your advice. I spoke to him…” My gaze lowered to my lap with a feeling of remorse. “And he spoke to me.”

yelled over the phone. “I’ve spoken to him often. He is

he is very polite.” My legs stretched themselves out upon the couch, since I

Woven was quite desperate to procure a gardener. You mustn’t say anything, my dear, but he could not hire anyone in the town.” Her laughter

“Town gossip?”

in a way to

me to stay away

have a good heart. Incredibly sweet.

“Yes?”

she spoke in a tone of voice that was full of concern.

after I

“It would be in your

don’t want to?” I interjected. “What

don’t understand, my dear,” the old lady chided. “You

upon the pillow at the end of

still a victim to it! You would

can’t,” I stammered out with an awful spread of heat across the sides of my cheeks

do you

then we share lunch. He even drives me to the bus terminal after work, and one time he drove me all the way home. He enjoys my company, and…” I

washroom,” Daphne commented in a low tenor. “I would be flattered if he

have spent most of my time

out. “Mr. Woven takes a romantic interest in you. He hardly spent more than five minutes of his time around

are wonderful paintings,” I

them?” Daphne questioned me with a painful sound to her voice. “I

“You’ve never seen them?”

in that shed or somewhere in the garden. If I wanted lunch, I would drive down to the village at the bottom of the hill after work. There is a nice bakery there with sandwiches that are to die for. You should try it sometime. Oh, look! I am blabbing again.” Her soft laughter echoed on her end of the phone line. “Whatever you do, Sela, do not mention you work at the Woven’s residency. The locals will tell you such frightful tales! They will say the place is cursed and all that. Mr. Woven will