by D. C. Sunday
Mr. Roster was...eerie in nature. (EXCERPT)
|Mr. Roster was...eerie in nature.
However, if you were to spot him in town one day, you would not have had the forethought to look twice. But Mr. Roster rarely made ventures far from his residence, up the street on Rickards Avenue (or as the townspeople called it: “Death’s Cradle”) so the likelihood of ever spotting him was improbable.
He spent most afternoons sitting by the window, looking at only God-knows-what in that ill-forsaken garden in the backyard, that could never grow anything lively. The attendants offered him time and time again to take him someplace else in the facility, for a better view, but he only dismissed them. Perhaps, that is what earned Mr. Roster his conspicuous reputation in the first place; he managed to be the only patient at the facility to be classified on an entirely different scale of oddities.