Little Timmy Rhobuch
I was seven or eight or maybe nine, I really can’t remember, it’s been such a long time. Timmy’s gone I heard them say. We can’t find him anywhere.
The neighbors searched as neighbors do and the police came as they always do but Timmy was gone and we were scared.
My dad found Timmy, blue and quiet, among the tangled weeds of the water ditch. Everyone was sorry and cried for Little Timmy Rhobuch and Timmy’s dad and mom wept tears that troubled my mind.
I went to see his tiny body in his tiny coffin in his house next to mine. I saw his sweet chubby face that could not smile and his curly blond hair that could not move and I had to touch and I had to feel.
So, I laid my hand upon his face and did not find a child of two, only a face of stone.
I was seven or eight or maybe nine when little Timmy Rhobuch's chubby face of stone startled my hand and etched my mind.
Follow the story of 'Himshee', the mind taker
Posted by George S Batty