Vestow explained the events and Toddson chimed in occasionally, exactly where Vestow needed confirmation of the events, almost on cue. I say this not as an indictment upon Toddson, rather one on Vestow. She appeared to control him like a puppet. Toddson handed me the play script. It was cover in teeth marks and still drying saliva. The teen marks were numerous and deep.

After completing her rendition of, what I once considered to be and named in my memories, "The Bad Death of Dear Mr. Tudor", she threatened me. She said I was to leave Berry College and never return. I believe this threat was frivolous, as it only took my counter threat of revealing her dabbling in witchcraft to chase her from my home. I looked to Toddson and approving smile was on his face. 

...

I completed college, then Toddson and I moved to the countryside to a small settlement named Mountain Peaks. It may have been the excitement of moving from the city or a simple trick of the eye but there was a coach that passed as we were unloading our cart. In the rear of the coach was a grey-haired lady, who I believe was Vestow, and a man. The man wore a gentleman's top hat, which he tilted towards me in a gesture of "good day". The visage below the hat was Mr. Tudor whom I believed dead now for several years.

Toddson's weekly checks were redirected to our new address somehow and without effort exerted by him or I.

Coaches passed the new home on a regular basis. In my estimation they pass too often for such a secluded area, but yet... They pass just the same...

The End.

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- D.Alan