Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction, postaday, stories, writing

The Prey (A very short story)

The Prey

She sits on the ridge overlooking the valley below. Still as silence, her ears pick up the tiniest rustling off to the left. Her nose twitches as she catches a slight smell of the nervous creature scuttling away from her.

Her ears twitch as she catches another sound, louder and less cautious than the small mouse she let get away. Her body tenses. Ready to leap or run, depending on whether the movement in front of her becomes prey or predator.

Crouching in the tall dry grass, she watches with intensity as a large shadow emerges from the bushes below. A human. She sniffs the air and catches a familiar scent. Her human. Is the human looking for her? Maybe.

She watches her human walk to a large rock and sits down. Suddenly she smells something heavenly. Food! Her human has food. How long has it been since she’s eaten? A long time. Her stomach gives off a small rumble. She is so hungry.

Cautiously she slinks toward the human, she doesn’t want to be spotted. Not yet. Not a sound she makes as she slowly gets nearer.

The human moves and she stops, shifting her body lower to the ground. Her muscles quiver with the effort to hold still. Her long tail behind her like a velvet rope, still.

Suddenly she hears a soft murmur. Her human, calling her name. She dares not move in case she’s spotted. Let the human call for her. She will respond when she’s ready, if at all. She hears her name once more, louder now. As if that will force her to move. No! She must be careful.

Once again she smells food, stronger now as she is closer. Ah, how nice it will be to eat once more. She must be strong. Slowly her foot moves forward. Then again. As if in slow motion her body slithers through the long grass toward the rock.

The human reaches down and places something on the rock next to them. A trick? To try to catch her unawares? Never! She is too smart for that. She stops and crouches down as the human moves slightly. The smell of whatever was left on the rock almost too much to bear.

She must have that food or she will perish! It’s been so long since she last ate! When was it? She tries to remember. She can’t think with that smell wafting down to her. She will have it. Now!

Her whole body starts to quiver. Her butt moving back and forth, her tail twitching. She must chance it. Human or no human she must have what smells so enticing! Her back-end moves faster, her legs tense, ready for the jump.

She springs! As she lands on the rock she has the piece of fish in her mouth within seconds. Ahhhh, such delicacy! Such flavors!

The human laughs.  “Slow down! You just ate this morning, silly cat.”

 

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Posted in Blog challenge, Fiction, Flash Fiction, postaday, stories, writing

Tuesday’s Challenge

Today’s challenge is going to be a little bit different. I’m going to give a line of dialog and then you can add to it. I think short and sweet should do. Use the line of dialog somewhere in your writings. Let’s keep it at 200 words or less. Have fun!

The line of dialog to use is: “I’m too old to start again.”

 

 

http://wprasek.com/
http://wprasek.com/

 

 

“Come on, Ruthie, it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know Bertha, it might be too soon.”

“Now you know it’s been five long years since Albert’s death. You need to be livin’ a life again!”

“I’m too old to start again.”

“Nonsense! You’re only sixty-four years old, still a young woman.”

“Now who’s speakin’ nonsense, Bertha? Young woman! Don’t be tryin’ to talk me into something I’ll probably be sorry for later.”

“It’s only a dinner date. It’s not like you’re gonna marry the man.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve still got your man. It’s not so easy to start over. I never did like datin’.”

“Don’t look at it as a ‘date’, look at it as a free dinner and one you don’t have to cook.”

Ruthie closed her eyes, leaned back into her chair and sighed. Bertha had been trying to get her to go out and have some fun for ages now. She was getting tired of fighting her best friend of forty years. Maybe she was right. It had been five years since Alfred passed from a sudden heart attack. She just felt that she was betraying Alfred’s memory going out with another man. Not that anything would come of it. She was ok with being a widow.

“Ok, Bertha, I’ll do it.” Ruthie just hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction, postaday, stories, Wednesday Whatever!, writing

Wednesday Whatever!

Today I thought I would do some actual creative writing. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I couldn’t think of what to write but then found this nifty page with a bunch of writing prompt generators. The one I’m using today is ‘Random First Line Generator‘.

I hope you enjoy my little flash fiction.

 

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There was something not quite right about the window. Nothing stood out odd but there was something ‘off’. Like it had some of that old glass in it that when you looked through it made things off-balance. Yet the realtor said it was a new house. Built about ten years ago. The reason Clair bought it was because of its location. It was in the middle of a small woodland area. Yet in the middle of a large city.

Clair fell in love with it as soon as she saw it. On the small size but just right for her. The woods surrounding it were full of birds and wildlife and Clair felt at home the first time she stepped foot inside. Which was odd as Clair was a city girl, born and raised. She loved the city with its bustle and hustle, people coming and going no matter what time of the day. Always something to do, something to see, people around. She never thought she would like a home like this one but she fell in love with it and bought it that same day.

Now that she was all moved in and pretty much settled she had time to think about that odd window. Clair sat on the sofa with a well-earned glass of red wine and looked at the window. Taking small sips of her wine she studied it. It looked like the other windows of the house. White trimmed, looking out the left side of the house. It didn’t have drapes on it nor window blinds. Which was kind of odd as all the other windows in the house had mini blinds on them and this one was bare.

Clair got up from the couch and walked in front of the window and looked out. Not having drapes or mini blinds wasn’t a problem as the window faced a rather dense thicket and she knew the sun never directly shown through this window. Now that she was thinking about the window, it was strange that this window was the only one on this side of the house. Walking closer to the window she saw her own reflection staring back at her. It was almost like she was looking in a mirror until she once again noticed the thicket behind her reflection. Standing close to the window she raised her hand and using just her index finger she put it close to the window pane, she didn’t touch it, just skimmed it as she watched a butterfly making its slow way through the thicket outside.

She always was fascinated by butterflies and her smile showed her joy in watching it. Once it disappeared she turned from the window and walked back to the couch. “Enough of these fanciful flights,” she muttered out loud.

She picked up her wine glass once more from the coffee table and glanced at the odd window. Something drew her to it so she slowly wandered over to stand in front of it again. Taking a small sip of wine she noticed a small smudge on the window pane. Clair thought she must have touched the pristine window after all. She drew a kleenex from her jeans pocket and stepping close to the window she wiped at the smudge her finger had left on the window.

Frowning she noticed the smudged fingerprint still there so she wiped harder. Clair’s eyes widened with sudden realization……the fingerprint was on the outside of the glass!

The glass slipped from her hand and the wine spilled over the floor like blood as Clair slowly moved her eyes from the fingerprint to her reflection. She drew in her breath as her reflection smiled and gave her a slight wave. She quickly stepped back when the reflection in the glass took a step closer to the window, pursed her lips and blew a fog onto the window. With her fingertip, Clair’s twin on the other side of the window slowly wrote out two words……..

‘Help Me’

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Author Interviews, Blogging, postaday, stories, Uncategorized, writing

Author interview: Kara Jorgensen

Here is the first interview in the 2016 2K Indie Book Tour put on by Kate Evans and Kate M. Colby! I will be showcased on Friday the 12th! Come join us as we visit different genres and authors. It’s going to be loads of fun.

Scarborough Mysteries

It is time to kick off our 2K international indie book blog tour 2016 (hosted by Kate M Colby http://katemcolby.com http://katemcolby.com & me, Kate Evans). I am delighted to welcome our first indie author for interview, Kara Jorgensen.

KaraK picKara Jorgensen is an author of fiction and professional student from New Jersey who will probably die slumped over a Victorian novel. An anachronistic oddball from birth, she has always had an obsession with the Victorian era, especially the 1890s. Midway through a dissection in a college anatomy class, Kara realized her true passion was writing and decided to marry her love of literature and science through science fiction or, more specifically, steampunk. When she is not writing, she is watching period dramas, going to museums, or babying her beloved dogs.

Here she introduces her book,  The Earl and the Artificer (Ingenious Mechanical Devices #3), a historical fantasy novel.

What mysteries…

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Posted in Blog challenge, Fiction, NaBloPoMo, Nano Poblano, postaday, stories, writing

Nano Poblano ~ NaBloPoMo ~~ Day 5

I was becoming desperate in what to write today. Nothing came to mind and I was running out of time to get it done. Then I found a place with all sorts of writing prompts on it. Yay! Saved by some random words as I decided to use the Random Word generator. Makes the old gray matter work a bit for a change.

If you are stuck and want some prompts, go here. They will have all sorts of help for you.

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My words that came up were: herbs, arouse, spicy, scream, dodge, prickly, beer, tempt. Below I  have attempted to use all the words in a flash fiction piece. Hope you enjoy. 

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Bret raised the ice-cold beer to his lips and took a long pull from the bottle. It had been a long hard week. He was tired and hungry, but he didn’t want to cook his own meal tonight. As his thoughts turned to what restaurants were close by, his nose picked up the spicy smell of something delicious. Must be his neighbor across the hall cooking again. The smell was enough to tempt him to open up his door and get a better sense of the aroma.

His stomach rumbled when he stepped into the hallway and picked up the smell of herbs and spices with just a hint of garlic in the air. Whatever she was cooking this night had his mouth-watering and his brain turning. He wondered what excuse he could use to knock on her door and maybe, if the gods were smiling on him tonight, get invited to dinner.

Bret had been trying to get to know his neighbor since she moved in a couple of months ago. A quiet woman, a bit prickly when he tried to talk to her the first week she was here. After that, he didn’t see her very often as she seemed to keep odd hours. When she was home the same time he was, all sorts of wonderful smells drifted from her apartment to his. She seemed to cook a lot, and what she cooked always smelled divine.

He was definitely a man who was ruled by his stomach. Bret enjoyed a good meal when he could get one. Most of the women he knew and dated didn’t usually have cooking on their resume. He went for the beautiful model types, who always seemed to be watching their weight. His neighbor wasn’t exactly in that category as she was a bit on the plump side. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful, Bret thought. In her way she was, if you went for red hair, green eyes and a slight dusting of freckles along her cheek bones.

Music started to play from the neighbor’s apartment. Soft sounds of something jazzy. The picture of his neighbor’s body close to his in a slow dance began to arouse Bret in ways that surprised him. Was he attracted to his neighbor? He knew he spent more weekends home smelling her cooking than was normal. He leaned his long body against his door jamb and smiled ruefully. Now all he had to do was think of a reason to knock on her door.

Just as he was poised to raise his fist and knock, her door swung open. Her green eyes widened as she gave a small scream.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bret said as he stepped back a pace.

“I wasn’t expecting someone to be at my door. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m your neighbor,” Bret smiled as he pointed to his open doorway across the hall. “I couldn’t help but smell the heavenly smells wafting from your apartment. Can I ask you what you are cooking?”

“It’s a new recipe I’m trying out for my restaurant. It doesn’t even have a name yet.”

“You own a restaurant? No wonder whatever you cook smells so damn good.”

She closed and locked her door, smiled at Bret and walked around him. “I need some spices that I ran out of. Was on my way to the store. Not that I’m trying to dodge you, but I really must run as my dish is simmering and I don’t want to leave it alone for long.”

Bret thought here is my chance to get to know his neighbor. “It’s getting late. How about I walk with you to the store and you can tell me all about what it’s like to own a restaurant?”

She hesitated, then held out her hand toward him, “My name is Monique. I’ll be happy for some company neighbor.”

Bret closed and locked his door after grabbing his jacket and keys and walked down the hall with Monique. His thoughts were happy as he started to talk about restaurants and food.

 

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Posted in Blogging, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, stories, Stories of my life, writing

The Haunting of Home

Halloween is coming soon, so I thought I would repost one of my favorite TRUE stories today. Enjoy!

I’ve told all of you about my ghost friend Abe. I know many of you probably don’t believe in ghosts, hauntings, things that go bump in the night. I do, because I’ve seen and heard things that are not explained otherwise. I’ve seen way too many ghosts for anyone to tell me they don’t exist. Just because a person hasn’t seen a ghost, doesn’t win the argument that they are not real. I believe there are many things we do not see, but they still exist.

My childhood home My childhood home

This ghost that I’m going to tell you about was seen and felt in my childhood home along with Abe. It just wasn’t as nice as Abe. In fact, this ghost gave off a distinct aura of menace. It was quite scary, especially for a kid. As I stated in my story about Abe, there were 8 children that lived…

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Posted in Blogging, Fiction, Flash Back Friday, Humor, postaday, stories, writing

Flashback Friday

Hello, people!

I hope the start of your weekend is fantastic! I’m taking a small break from my edits to bring you this flash from the past.

Here’s a short story I wrote way back in October of 2012. I hope you enjoy it. 🙂

 

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Yeah, I’m borrowing the title from Snoopy.  He said I could. We’re  close friends. Snoopy borrowed it from Sir Edward George Earle Bulwer-Lytton, and now there is a contest every year called

The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest

The contest uses the infamous phrase to showcase the worst extremes of this “purple prose”. It only uses one sentence, where I  thought it would be fun to write a story with that title. I kind of doubt it will be scary, but in honor of Halloween,  one of my favorite holidays, I thought I would borrow the phrase and see what happens.

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I was home alone with my little dog Sam. The wind was howling through the trees, it almost sounded like moaning. Of course, that was just my imagination. Usually, storms don’t bother me. In fact, I love them. But this one seemed different. There was a feeling in the air, it was heavy, like a smelly wet blanket covering the whole house. We had lost the electricity an hour ago. But I had plenty of candles lit. I hate the dark, things happen in the dark that doesn’t happen in the light.

It wasn’t raining, not yet anyway. But the wind was blowing and the trees outside were hitting the side of the house. A steady bang, bang, bang. It was driving me crazy. I made a mental note to have the trees next to the house trimmed… soon.

The thunder could be heard rumbling over the wind. Every now and then the lightning would light up the house. Because of that and the candles, there were odd shadows flickering on the walls and ceilings. It would be a great night for Halloween. But that holiday was still a few weeks away.

I sat on the couch with Sam as close to my side as he could get. I liked the company, even if it was in the shape of a small dog. At least we had each other, and I wasn’t completely alone. I felt foolish. A grown woman afraid of the dark, but I couldn’t help myself. It was just that kind of night.

I heard a soft creak, like a footstep when the wind and thunder were silent for a few seconds.  It sounded like it was in the house! Sam and I just froze for a second, I felt the poor little guy shiver in fright. I have to admit it scared me too!

I gathered my courage together, picked up one of the candles and decided to take a look around the house. Yeah, stupid I know. I mean, in all the scary movies one sees, the girl always goes looking around the dark house on her own and meets up with the boogie man!

This wasn’t a movie. I would rather meet up with the boogie man on my terms then sit on the couch and await my doom. So off we went to search the house. Sam was close on my heels, I guess he wasn’t willing to be alone either.

We did a quick survey of the main floor and saw nothing unusual. So I decided to take a look upstairs. I slowly started to climb the stairs as the candle flickered at each step. I tried to listen to anything beyond the wind but heard nothing strange.

So step by slow step I continued upwards. We got to the landing and I stopped to give another listen. Nothing. I took a step forward and immediately heard a creak and I knew it wasn’t me that made it.

I decided to keep moving forward. I had to find out if someone else was in the house with me. It was either that or go hide somewhere and wait for the boogie man to find me! Neither option was the greatest. So taking my courage in hand once more I continued forward. I slowly walked down the hall. The first room I came to was the bathroom. Taking a quick look inside I knew no one was there, and yes, I looked in the shower too!

Poor little Sam was with me every step of the way. I made myself a promise that I would give Sam some extra special dog cookies once we were over this night! He deserved them for keeping me company on this scary night.

Taking a deep breath, I continued to the next room. My bedroom door was closed like usual.  I grabbed the door handle and slowly turned it. As I opened the bedroom door I heard it give a small screech, I never noticed that it needed oiling until now.

As I opened the door all the way and stepped inside the wind picked up in force and pushed the outside tree against the side of the house. The bang that followed made my heart jump and my hand holding the candle shake.

I walked into the room and took a quick look around as Sam stayed in the doorway.  I saw nothing out of the ordinary and even got enough courage to throw the closet door open and take a look. Nothing. Whew!

My heart slowed down just a bit and I left to check the last room. An extra bedroom. That door too is usually closed, but I noticed soon enough that it was open a crack. My heart started to beat fast once more.  I stood just outside the door wondering if I shouldn’t just turn and run. I took a deep silent breath as I put my hand against the door to push it open.

I gave it a slow push and took a quick look. I didn’t see anything so I took a step inside…then all hell broke loose!

There was an awful howl as two gray and white bodies streaked past me out the door. Sam gave a loud bark and took after them. Sam was yapping excitedly as I ran into the hallway just in time to see my two devil cats running hell-bent down the hall with Sam nipping at their tails!

Both cats raced toward the stairs and when the first one hit the curve before the stairs the second one almost ran him over. As their paws scrambled for footing they bounded down the stairs with the now brave Sam close on their butts!

I started running after Sam as fast as I could without putting out my candle. I heard a loud crash downstairs and wondered what piece of furniture was a victim of their flight.  Then I heard yapping and hissing and thought I better get down there quick!

Managing to get down the stairs without tripping in my haste, I entered the living room just as the lights came back on.

I stood in the middle of the room and surveyed the damage. I blew out my candle and yelled at Sam to hush! He had the two devil cats Notwen and Pouncer cornered on top of the TV stand. I just had to laugh. One, because I felt so relieved that there wasn’t a boogie man in the house! Two, because Sam was so much smaller than either cat and he acted so proud that he got them hissing and cornered!

It took me a few minutes to get the animals calmed. Afterward, I just sat on my couch and laughed at myself. But, after that day, I make sure I always have plenty of candles in every room in the house. You know, just in case.

 

 

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Posted in Blog challenge, Fiction, postaday, Serial story, stories, writing

2015 April A-Z Challenge ~~ The ABC’s of Death

I’m not going to list each preceding chapter every day. It would get much too long.  If you haven’t read previous chapters I have a category listing on the side with the title 2015 April A-Z challenge. You can find all the chapters there. Thanks for reading!

ABC'S of Death book cover (4)

Cutout Letters

 

I was looking over the Hilton’s high-priced menu from their restaurant downstairs when a knock sounded on the door. Must be Angela.

As soon as the door was open in rushes Angela. “Dee! Thank God you’re here! I do hope you’re good at this private eye business! Of course you are! You’re Dee! You would be good at it!”

Before I could even get a hello injected into her fast talking, nervous dialog, she starts again.

“Dee! You are good at it aren’t you? I can’t talk to the police and so I thought of you because someone told me that you were a private detective now and I didn’t know what else to do! Someone killed Tony! Now they might be after me! I don’t even know why!”

Whoa. This was not the Angela I knew in college. This was some caricature of her. Not a good one either. She was standing in the middle of the room, still talking in a fast, scared, non-stopping clip. I had to make her calm down if I was going to make any sense of what she was telling me.

For half a second, I thought of slapping her, but I don’t think she would appreciate my tactics. So I decided to use a different method. I grab her shoulders and give her a hard brief shake. She at least stopped talking. Now she was staring up at me with big tear-filled blue eyes and her mouth wide open. Not a good look on anyone.

“Sit down Angela and tell me what the hell is going on. Slowly.”

I push her into a chair and sit across from her. I see her take a deep breath and let it out. She wipes her eyes and hands me a note that I hadn’t noticed she had gripped in her fist. I straighten it out and read it.

Crap.

It was made up of cut out letters from magazines. Crooks actually still do that? Old school I’m thinking. Or they are into the dramatics.

note for book

It was time for me to know about Tony.

 

I always enjoy comments and/or constructive criticism. You could just say hi! Thanks! 

Posted in Fiction, Flash Back Friday, postaday, stories, writing

Flash Back Friday

Another Friday is here good people. Hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Below you will find another one of my very first posts. It was a short, short story, where I dabbled in fantasy a bit. I still like the story line, let me know what you think. I have thought about expanding the story into a book. I think it has promise.

For your reading pleasure I present to you…………………………

 

purple eyes

 

Alei

Alei stood still as a rock, alone as she preferred. Facing the dais and the only person who could grant her the one thing that made all her hard work worth it. She heard the faint rustle of the crowd behind her. Her  fellow classmates in the  only school of its type. A place where its secrets outnumbered its residents. Where to survive you had to be smarter, quicker and deadlier than all the others. And she was. She had proved that.  It was a school that was well-known for producing the best assassins in all the universes.

She stood still, with only her eyes following the man above her. Her inky black hair spiky on  top of her head. Her eyes, the eyes of her people. Deep purple with a black outer rim, slightly slanted. Her skin bronze,  with the black tattoo’s that showed others, she was of the tribe  Aleiata of the planet Tambos. A once proud and majestic people, her tribe had been slaughtered by an army run by the very man who was standing on the dais in front of her. She was the only survivor, a baby back then, only five years old.

The man, a powerful assassin, named Drimel thought it would be amusing to take her and school her into what he was. He named her Alei after her people and thrust her in this school to be shaped and molded into what she was today.

Twenty years later, she stood silent, nothing moving but her purple eyes. Waiting to be told she was a full fledged killer. Waiting to told what her first assignment was.

Waiting to kill.

Posted in Blogging, Daily Prompt, Fiction, stories, writing

The Meeting

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I took a sip of my cooling coffee and watched the other patrons of the café.  I didn’t know any of them and they didn’t know me. Or so I thought.

I was on holiday. I didn’t want to know anyone. I didn’t want to be disturbed. I wanted a little peace and quiet for a while. So in my office last week I put a map of the world up on the wall,  closed my eyes, threw a dart and where it landed was where I was going.

So, here I was. Drinking a flavorful cup of Joe, feeling the tension between my shoulder blades finally dissipating. Through half closed eyes of contentment, I watched a young mother and her tow headed young charge laugh at the antics of a small puppy at their feet through the large picture window that faced the outside patio.

My chair leaned against the wall behind me as I took in the calm scene. Old habits die-hard, my back was always against a wall,  in my business ingrained habits might just save your life.

I nodded at the waitress and held my coffee cup up for another refill. I was enjoying the quiet of the little café. Smiling to myself I thought I should have taken a holiday months ago. The waitress wandered over and poured me another steaming cup of black gold, gave me a small nod and walked away.

I heard the tinkle of the bell over the café door and casually glanced over. A tall thin man stood just inside the door. I felt a small fissure along my skin, telling me this man was here for me. I get those feelings sometimes. I don’t question them anymore. I watched him slowly glance around the half empty café till his eyes landed on me.

I stayed in my relaxed position, waiting for him to do whatever he was going to do. I couldn’t see his face yet, as it was shaded by a round derby hat and the sunlight behind him afforded him the anonymity of shadow. Through my half closed eyes I watched him walk slowly towards me. I put my cup down on the small round table in front of me and rested my hands next to it. The man stopped in front of my table.

“Hello are you Charly Cumberstoke? Better known as CC?”

I almost said a flat-out no, but my damned curiosity came into play. One of these times that same curiosity is going to get me killed.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He gestured toward the empty chair and asked, “May I?”

I nodded. I was still cautious, it pays to be in my line of work.

He sat and pulled off his cap. I took a long hard look at his face. Narrow, with a long nose, long chin, and unusually pretty eyes for a man. Wide, steel grey with long black lashes framing them. I knew several women that would have been jealous of eyes like that. His black curly hair just brushed his forehead. I didn’t know the face, and I remembered faces. His was not one most would forget. I wanted to ask how he found me, but figured he’d get around to telling me soon enough.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

His voice was soft, cultured is how I would describe it. Wasn’t New Briton, Oz Land maybe. High end either way. What I could see of his hands clasped in front of him, they were soft, non-callused. His eyes stayed steady on mine, calm from what I could tell. One cool, long-legged man.

“Why?”

“I have a job for you.”

“I’m on holidays.”

“You’re a hard person to track down. I had to employ rather nefarious means to find you.”

“I’m still on holidays.”

I tensed as he reached inside his coat pocket. His hand stopped for a second then slowly pulled an envelope from it. He put it on the table and pushed it to me. I glanced at it and saw my name written in a bold hand across the rather pristine front.

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I don’t know what the letter says Ms. CC. I just do as my master tells me.”

“And who would your master be?”

“I’m sure the letter will explain everything, if you would be so kind as to read it.”

I picked it up and stared at it. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want to open it. Cowardly of me, which is usually not my problem. I guess the only way I would get answers is to read the damn thing.

“I believe I shall see if this establishment has anything of a decent tea to drink. I will leave you to your reading Ms. CC.”

With that, he got up and walked to the counter to order his tea. I looked at the letter again and with a reluctant sigh tore it open and pulled out a single piece of white vellum. As I read my heart stopped for a moment and then I felt my anger stir. Of all the damned nerve!

I slowly, with my anger burning deep, put the letter back into the envelope. I waited for the stranger to sit back down.

“I had to explain to the waitress how to make a decent cup of tea. It’s amazing that she didn’t know how!”

“Never mind about the damned tea. Who are you?”

“My name is Michaels. I am Mr. Cumberstokes manservant.”

“I don’t know how my no good father put you up to this, but it’s not funny.”

“No jokes Ms. CC. Your father needs your help.”

“My father hasn’t needed me since he walked out when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s something he regrets.”

I just laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. Something stirred in my mind. Old forgotten memories. Ah, shit, I was going to go meet my father, who I haven’t seen in over 25 years. This should be interesting…………

 

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This story was done for the Daily Post’s daily prompt, Greetings, Stranger. I have also brought back my favorite character CC whom I have written about in previous stories. To read the first one, please go here. Thanks for stopping in and giving my story a read. Hope you enjoyed it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Daily Post Writing Challenge, Fiction, stories, writing

Writing Challenge~~~ Tracks Backward

Source:Cheri Lucas Rowlands/The Daily Post
Source:Cheri Lucas Rowlands/The Daily Post

 

I had been here before, a long time ago.  Deja Vu.  I was about 10, just a damn kid. The world was all ready a hard place to be in.

Abandoned by a good-looking, smooth talking traveling man, my mother ended up eight and half months later with me. I was impatient to come into this god forsaken world back then. Came early, some say I sent my mother to her grave. I say, to hell with them. My mother sent herself to the grave. I was eight when she finally had enough of the hard life and just laid down and died. She gave up. I won’t ever give up. It’s not in me.

The group of misbegotten, ragtag bunch of idiots that my mother had hooked up with were a superstitious lot. Took it out on me. A small red-headed girl with one green eye and one blue eye. They said I was the product of the devil. For a couple of years after my mother died, I just hung out on the fringe of the group and tried to survive the best I could. They took turns throwing me scraps to eat and cuffing my ears when I let them get too close.

I had just turned 10 when they decided to get rid of me. They weren’t brave enough to kill me themselves, so they thought the wolves in the wild would do their dirty work for them. So they gathered a few of my belongings up, a bit of bread and rotten cheese and left me at these railroad tracks to fend for myself.

In the middle of damned nowhere. Just a set of rusty, disused rail tracks and me. If I wouldn’t have let my guard down they never would have had the drop on me. I was so tired. I drifted off to sleep and a couple of brave men of  the group put a sack over me and tied me in it. They tossed me over a rough boney shoulder. I didn’t yell or scream, I remember that. Never was one for wasting my energy on something that wasn’t going to work anyhow.  They walked what seemed like forever in my mind, barely talking to each other. When they got to these tracks they tossed me to the ground and just walked off.

Took me  a long time to finally work myself out of that damn sack. By then my anger was burned deep inside of me. I swore I would get revenge. First though I had to survive long enough to figure out how to get that well deserved revenge. When I got out of that sack it was coming dark. I found my pitiful bundle of belongings laying a few feet to the side of me. I ate the bread and moldy cheese. I was always hungry back then. So a bit of mold didn’t bother me none.

While I ate, slowly chewing the tough bread I took a look around. All I could see in the dusk was trees, lots of trees and those old railway tracks. I knew the trains weren’t running anymore. I had overheard some of the group talking about the trains not running after the last world war pretty much desecrated the country, hell the world from what I heard. Bands of people got together after the war and survived best they could. Too bad my mother hooked herself up with one of the worst.

For some reason I remember not being scared. Nothing much frightened me back then. Still doesn’t. I was more curious than scared. I knew about the wolves of course. Anyone who spent anytime out here knew about them. But they fascinated me. The group with their stupid superstitions were terrified of them.

I used to sneak out in the woods at night and watch the wolves. I would lay still as I could for hours and just watch and learn.

Who knew that all that watching, that learning, would help me survive. Those wolves turned out to be my best friends. My family, my survival.

Now I was back. I was older, smarter, and deadlier. My revenge would happen soon.

 

 

This story was done for the The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing challenge. Let me know what you think. I may add on to it on a later date.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, stories, Stories of my life, writing

My Story of Dad

I posted this story last year in honor of my Dad on Father’s Day. I liked it enough that I am posting it again this year. 

Happy Father’s Day to all those who celebrate it today!

 

 

My Dad was a man of mixed impressions. He could be quick to anger and yet he loved animals of all kinds. He was soft-spoken yet when he did speak it was with authority and conviction. He was a meticulous man, very neat in his appearance and surroundings. Everything had a place and it better be in it kind of man.

He wasn’t particularly mechanical. He wasn’t the kind of man to tinker with cars. His passion was gardening. I think my dad could grow anything. I remember the time he and I had a contest with each other. Who could grow a certain kind of plant the best. We gave each other a month. I had a room upstairs and was growing plants, he had a room downstairs where he grew his. He won of course. The man just had a special touch with growing things. It was a fun contest though with lots of laughs and good times.

My Dad, Russ.
My Dad, Russ.

 

My dad died of prostate cancer years ago. He died on Father’s day weekend that year. He held on for as long as he could because he always took care of my mom. He was afraid of leaving her alone. In the three months he was in a hospice dying slowly day by day my mom never missed a day visiting him. Through all sorts of weather, my mom would be there as soon as visiting hours started till they kicked her out at night. Every day my dad would tell her things that she needed to do around the house. He would tell her what bills she needed to pay. Who to talk to about insurance when he passed. He tried to ready her for when she would be on her own.

That’s the kind of man he was. When he died, I was 1500 miles away and not on speaking terms with my mother. Unfortunately, I didn’t find out my father had passed till sometime in September of that year. It broke my heart in more ways than one.

My dad was the kind of man you could count on. He was reliable, thrifty, and smart. I don’t think he ever saw himself as smart. But he was. He was always reading something. Granted, most of those books were westerns.  His favorite author was Lois L’Amour. But he had a small library on organic gardening also. He was organic before it was ‘cool’. He was always trying new natural ways to keep pests out. He didn’t like chemicals in his garden.

My dad and I had a lot in common. Or I should say I took after my dad in many ways. I too love to read. I always feel more comfortable inside a book than socializing. That was Dad too. I’m on the quiet side, until I get to know you. My friends may be laughing about this one, but it’s true! I also unfortunately have a quick temper like my dad. I flare up, burn out and never hold grudges. Like Dad. I have my eyes and hair from my dad too. He was 100% German. I got his coloring and not my Native American mothers.

I used to love having discussions with Dad. We could talk about anything. From discussions about God or no God. Discussions on having sex before marriage (for the record, he was all for it… ha-ha). Nothing was taboo. I loved that about him. I miss that about him.

Him and I could be in the car together going someplace and not say a single word. It was okay. We didn’t have to say anything. It was a comfortable silence. Him and I communicated when we needed to and were all right with that.

I know I disappointed my Dad too many times in my life. But, I also think he knew I tried the best I could. I don’t think he was disappointed in me as a person, just some of my personal choices. Like my ex. Oh boy, my dad did NOT like my ex! He never said anything to me though. It was all in HOW the quiet in him was, his body language. It was different when he was disapproving, then when he was just his usual self. I remember when I finally decided to divorce the ex. I went home for a while with my parents. To sort my thinking out. To get away from the ex. My dad never said anything but this,

“You have to do what is right for you, even if others don’t understand.”

I never told my dad about the abuse I suffered from my ex. I never told my family much of it at all. He would have been so hurt by it and I wouldn’t do that to dad. I loved him too much. My dad was a firm believer in that a real man never hits a womanno matter what! He lived by that rule. I remember when my sister, then I, turned 13. My dad told us that we were young ladies now and that ladies didn’t get hit. After that we never so much as got a swat on the butt if we were bad. Believe me, his disappointment was enough punishment! That and his yelling. hahaha

Today is the day for Dads. If my dad was still alive, I would have called him this morning. And if I was lucky he would have talked to me on the phone, at least long enough to tell him “Happy Father’s Day!” My dad hated talking on the phone. Today would have been a good day for both of us.

I love you Dad.