John Baxtern’s frightful discovery of an odd ‘snake’ in his toilet was just the tip of the iceberg. Unbeknownst to him, a series of unpleasant surprises lay ahead…
“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!” John screamed, his voice reverberating off the tiled walls of his bathroom. His eyes were wide as saucers, fixated on the uncanny sight before him. Something wholly out of place was coiling lazily in his toilet bowl, its shiny body glistening under the harsh light.
His first instinct was to bolt, to get as far away from the creature as possible. But an inexplicable fascination held him in place. He was an ordinary man living an ordinary life in the sleepy town of Maplewood, and the ordinary didn’t include finding strange looking ‘snakes’ in your toilet.
As a retired English teacher at the local high school, the strangest thing he ever had to deal with was the perplexing interpretations his students had for classic literature. John was a grounded man, preferring the peace and predictability of his routine. He found his peace in the eloquent dance of words across the pages of timeless literary works, or in the soothing company of Maplewood’s vibrant avian community. But this, whatever ‘this’ was, was not peaceful, nor predictable. It was…something else.
John Baxtern woke early to the sweet chorus of songbirds that morning. He was a simple man with a penchant for birdwatching, a hobby that offered him solace in his golden years. But this morning, a regular Tuesday, would prove to be unlike any other.
He was a man of routine and respectability, with a measured existence nestled in the quaint, picturesque suburbs of Maplewood. A retiree who had dedicated his life to shaping young minds as an English teacher, John had cultivated a calm life that hummed with the comfortable rhythm of familiarity and predictability. He lived alone in his two-story colonial house, complete with a white picket fence and a garden filled with blooming hydrangeas and roses.
It was a quiet, peaceful life, one far removed from the sensational headlines of the daily news or the cinematic thrills of Hollywood blockbusters. That’s why this day’s unnerving encounter came as such a shock to him. It was something he’d never imagined would happen to him in a million years…
During his working years, he was revered for his patience, knowledge, and the uncanny ability to simplify the most complex sonnets of Shakespeare for his students. His colleagues admired him for his dedication, his students for his wisdom. But teaching was in the past, and now his days were filled with different pursuits.
In his spare time, John found solace in birdwatching, an avocation that provided him both with a connection to nature and a gentle echo of his teaching days. The birds were his students now, each species with its distinct song, habits, and quirks. He’d taken to sketching them too, and his home was adorned with detailed pencil drawings of robins, sparrows, blue jays, and more. His world had been one of bird calls, sketching pencils, and peaceful silence until that morning’s discovery.