Not a Coincidence


12:30 (approx)

I was standing in the landing, that leads upstairs, on the secret staircase in our home.

All of a sudden, an old song came into my head.

I started humming it.

Hang down your head

Tom Dooley

Hang down your head and cry

Hang down your head

Tom Dooley

Poor Boy

You’re going to die

After I finished humming it, I shook my head and wondered why, after all these years, that song would come into my head.


10:30 (approximately)

I was at a yard sale, about a mile away from my home.  A man, about my age, walked up to me.

“Did you hear about those murders yesterday?” he said, with a weird look on his face.  He was staring at me, with his dark sunglasses slid down to the tip of his nose.

“No,” I said.  “Not really.”

“Sad,” he said.

Then, went on to tell me about a murder-suicide in the neighboring town.  A boy killed both of his grandparents, his mother, his sister, then himself.

“It’s an ugly world,” I said.  Then, the subject changed.

Saturday Morning

I rarely read the newspaper.  But, since it’s easily accessed online, I opened the site and read the front page.

“Murder-Suicide of Entire Family”

I read down further, and the date was Thursday, around 12:30.

This shook me, a bit.

Because right under the date, was the family’s name.

The Dooley’s…