Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Pretty good guessing last week. The story I wrote for last week’s Truth or Fiction was… Truth! In fact, it happened as recently as last Tuesday night. You would think crap like that would happen on a Saturday night like in the good old days. Nope, Tuesday. The guy is still in hospital in critical condition last I read of the accounts. I cleaned Wednesday and got all the dried blood out of my mud room. It was everywhere! Floors, walls, deep freeze. Amazing how much one man can bleed out of a stomach wound and a few more elsewhere.

Ah, the exciting life of a couple of retiree’s.

Now that’s over with, let’s move on to this weeks story. Is it Truth or Fiction?

 

Image by tookapic from Pixabay

 

 

Steps in the Night

 

The footsteps were moving away from the bedroom door. Huddled under the blanket she wondered who could be in the house with her? A burglar? Or worse? She tried to gather her courage to find her phone. Where did she leave it? It wasn’t on her nightstand where she usually kept it at night.

She didn’t hear anything for a few seconds and was hoping fervently that whoever was in the house had left. Her hands covered her mouth to keep the scream in when she heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps once more. They sounded like they were headed towards her bedroom door again! She jumped out of bed and with her hand shaking, she quickly reached out and locked her door then raced to the other side of the bed and crouched down behind it.

The steps stopped outside her door and she watched to see if the person tried to open it. Nothing. She didn’t see the knob move. She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until she let it out when she heard the distinct sound of footsteps leaving her door once again. Why didn’t they try to come into the room? The suspense was driving her crazy! Her heart dropped when she remembered her phone was in the kitchen! The battery had been super low earlier so she plugged it in the charger and left it on the kitchen counter. Damn! There was no way she could get to it without passing the person who was in the other room. Double damn!

She had just moved into the house last week and was still unpacking boxes. Her first real house. She had always lived in apartments before but when she saw this cute little bungalow one day a few months ago she fell in love. There had been a for sale sign up in its neat flower-filled yard and on impulse, she called the agents number listed on the sign. Now she was the proud owner of the house.

And there was a burglar in HER house! Her cute little house and she felt her anger rising. She was not going to cower behind her bed like some….some…..whiney little coward! She would confront the person who entered her dream home and scared her stupid! How dare they? She had confronted worse in her life. This cretin wasn’t going to make her hide inside her own home.

With that thought, she stomped over to her bedroom door and quickly unlocked it and swung it open. She was primed and ready to fight whoever she confronted but the room was empty! Where were they? Her heart pounded as she slowly walked towards the kitchen. She glanced at the windows and doors as she went and saw they all were closed and locked just like she left them when she went to bed. So how did the intruder get in?

She gathered her courage and found her voice to shout, “I’ve called the police! You better get out of my house now!”

Silence. No footsteps running, no doors opening or closing. Nothing.

“I mean it! The cops will be here any second!”

Nothing but silence answered her. She ran to the kitchen and turned on the light. It was empty. The back door was closed and locked as was the windows. What the hell? She grabbed her phone and was about to dial 911 when she paused.

Her house was small. Tiny some would say. There were not a lot of ways someone could have broken in. There were no windows in the tiny basement. All the windows in the house were closed and locked as were the doors. She was positive she had heard footsteps outside her bedroom door. Was she going crazy? She drew in a shaky breath. No need to call the police then. They would just make the assumption she was some hysterical female hearing bumps in the night.

She was positive that she heard the footsteps but she knew the police probably would doubt she heard anything. She glanced at her phone and saw the time. Four thirty in the morning. She knew she wouldn’t get any more sleep this morning. Might as well unpack some more boxes.

Night time came once more to her little home. As she got ready for bed she felt a bit nervous because of the previous night but crawled into bed and shut her light off. She double checked to make sure she had her phone and it was fully charged. She also took the precaution of leaning against the wall a hefty wooden baseball bat, newly purchased earlier that day for protection next to her bed. She almost felt silly taking so many precautions. Almost.

Her eyes flew open and she was fully awake but a little disoriented. Then she heard it. The sound that woke her up. There! Footsteps. Just like last night! She grabbed her phone and noticed the time. It was the same time as the footsteps last night! But how? Why? Who was it?

She threw her covers off and reached for the bat. She slowly crept over to her bedroom door and listened. Yes! There were footsteps. Distinct. Unmistakable. Footsteps coming towards her door. Her shaking hand reached for the doorknob. The bat in the other hand. She opened the door swiftly when she heard the steps stop by the door. She lifted the bat with both hands and was ready to strike whoever was standing there.

Nothing. The door frame was empty! The room beyond was empty too. But…but…how? Then she heard them again. The footsteps walking slowly away from her. Just footsteps with no feet to make them. There was nothing but emptiness. Nothing but the sounds of her fast beating heart and the ghostly footsteps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, what do you think? Is it Truth or Fiction? How would you react if you heard something but couldn’t see anything? Like footsteps in the night? Let me know!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

The last Truth or Fiction post was true. Yes, I have said good-bye to a few houses but that particular one I felt needed it the most. Or maybe I’m just weird. Toss up.

Sorry I didn’t post last week. Life got in the way. So with that, here’s this weeks story….Is it Truth or Fiction?

 

 

via Pixabay

 

 

Dialing D for Drama

 

 

 

 

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance and the police. Someone has been stabbed.”

“Where are they now?”

“In my hallway! They are bleeding pretty bad.”

“Ok, give me your address and phone number. I’ve already dispatched the police and they should be there shortly.”

A little shaken she gives the dispatcher her name, address, and phone number. She’s told to stay on the line until the police arrive.

“How old is the person who’s been stabbed?”

“I don’t know, early twenties maybe.”

“Can you see where he is stabbed or how many times?”

“Not really, there is too much blood. He’s holding his stomach but I can see that he’s been stabbed at least twice in the shoulder and his elbow is sliced open.”

“You’re doing really well. As soon as the police get there I will let you off the phone. Do you know if the assailant is still around?”

“Well, I hope not! But no, as far as I know, they are not around.”

She looks at the young man moaning on her floor and notices for the first time all the blood on the doors and walls and a thought comes into her mind about what a mess she will have to clean up later. Strange thought in the middle of a bloody drama but it seemed to settle her.

She should be more upset. More…she didn’t know exactly. Not this calm. Not this blasé about a man laying on her floor possibly bleeding to death of multiple knife wounds. The dispatcher interrupted her thoughts with another question.

“Do you know the man who’s been stabbed?”

“No, we don’t. He just came up to my husband while he was outside and asked for help.”

Another stray thought crossed her mind as she glanced with worry at the young man now writhing on her floor in pain. Her husband seemed to attract drama like this. It was like he was a drama magnet. Not his fault really, she supposed. She always thought she was the one who attracted it and she did and had plenty of times in the past. Now she was married to someone who did the same thing. Shit.

All she wanted was a quiet life now. No drama. Nothing like this. She wanted boring for a while. Was that so bad? Was that asking too much for her life now? Seems so.

Sighing she saw her front door open and the police coming in. Finally. Someone who could take over.

“The police are here now.” She said into the phone to the dispatcher.

“Yes, I hear them. I will let you go then. You did really well. Goodnight.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

So is this story based on truth or is it fiction? Let me know! How would you have handled a situation like this? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Hello readers and friends. Last weeks story seems to have been a success in a way. Everyone EXCEPT Bill got it right this time. The story is TRUE. Yup, really did happen to me. It never made me afraid to get into the water again, just made me hate someone all the more. I won’t go into details here, too depressing.

Let’s just move on to this weeks story. Is it Truth or Fiction?

 

Pixabay

 

 

The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. It didn’t hold that fear or hopelessness to her as it once did. She wasn’t sure why she was here. Sitting in her car parked in front of the house. She felt drawn to come. The house was empty, a for sale sign in the yard. She wished only happiness to those that bought it next. The house needed some happy memories made in it. Maybe in some way, those happy memories would wipe clean the many unhappy ones that filled it while she and her ex-husband lived there.

She was free of the man, just as the house was free of him. With his loud voice and his fists through the walls next to her head. The house had been damaged as much as she had. They both had to replace the bad with the good.

They both had scars on the inside that would stay with them. Never forgotten but maybe….just maybe healed enough to not be so noticeable anymore.

She smiled sadly and brushed the tears from her face. Silly woman. Crying for a house. Thinking that pile of bricks, wood and paint could feel as she did. She started her car and glanced once more toward the house. The sun glinted off the windows and to her it was like it was smiling at her, giving her a wink of encouragement.

With that, her spirits lightened and she gave a small wave to the house as she drove away, whispering, “May we both be filled with happy memories from now on.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

So was this fiction or truth? Let me know what you think! Do you believe that buildings can hold memories? Do you think there are some people who can ‘pick-up’ on those memories? 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Hello everyone and welcome to another week of Truth or Fiction. The comments and guesses were split last week. Was the story true or fiction?

Truth! Yes, it really did happen. I was living in Texas at the time with the ex. We lived next to a field of cows and yes, one cow was having trouble giving birth so we helped it out as it was a life or death situation for the poor cow. The only difference in the story was my ex actually did the turning of the calf. We did use dish soap and one of our dogs alerted us to the cow. According to the rancher, the dish soap didn’t harm the cow or calf. I didn’t think it would (it was my idea) as most of it seemed to come out of the cow with the birth.

About the only redeeming quality of my ex was that he was good to animals. His marriage skills needed the work.

Thank you once again to those of you who joined me last week. Now, let’s see what this week’s story is about.

 

Pixabay

 

Lessons To Learn

 

“The way you flirt is shameful.”

I laughed, “That wasn’t flirting. That was just being friendly.”

“You always do that to get your way. Flirt. It’s second nature to you.”

“I wasn’t flirting!”

Turning my chair towards my co-worker, I frowned and wondered what got her panties in a twist this morning. Millie was usually so cheerful and upbeat but today she seemed to complain about everything. I saw her eyes fill up with tears and her lower lip tremble. Yes, definitely something was wrong with her.

“Millie? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

She turned away from me and her shoulders hunched over her desk. Walking over to her I put my hand on her shoulder and asked her again what was wrong.

“Everything!”, she cried. “My whole life is a mess and nobody cares.”

Usually, I run away from such dramatics. Stresses me out but this was Millie and since coming to work for this company she has always been a constant source of smiles and cheerfulness. Until today. Something had to be seriously wrong for her to turn into this mess of tears and drama.

“Come on, Mill, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m in love and I hate it!” And with that statement, she went into full-blown, snot forming, eye swelling, red nose crying.

“Well, usually being in love is a good thing. So, I take it he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings?”

“I don’t know!”, she wailed. “I’ve never talked to him.”

That statement set me back a second. Never talked to him? Who was this love of her life and why in hell has Miss Never Knew a Stranger never talked to him? The mystery deepens.

“Ok, hold on a second. You are in love with someone you never talked to? Am I correct?”

Snuffling into her kleenex she nodded her head.

“Um, Mill…is this a real person? Or is this a character in one of your favorite books?” I was just checking for accuracy because with Millie it could be either.

“Of course he’s real.” And with that statement, she went off into another round of tears.

“OK, ok. Just wanted to make sure I got my facts straight.” I patted her shoulder and the tears slowed down. “So tell me why you two have never talked and where you met this man.”

“We haven’t met. That’s the problem. I see him every morning in the coffee shop I stop at on the way to work. He’s cute and I love him.” She looked at me, almost like she was challenging me to say something smart-alecky. I didn’t.

I could see this man meant a lot to her even if they never exchanged a word.

“Why don’t you start a conversation? You always do here. You never seem to have nothing to say to anyone who comes in the office.”

“This is different. I don’t love the people who come into the office so I don’t worry if I look like a fool to them.”

“Ahhh, I see.” I did too. It’s always just a little harder to talk to someone if you’re always worried about how they view you.

“I want to be like you. I want to be able to flirt and not care what others think. I want to flirt with HIM but I don’t know how.”

With that statement, the tears started to flow once again. Then an idea came to me.

“Millie, what if I teach you how to flirt? You could flirt with him and win his love!” I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it but I needed to stop the tears again. Good thing it was a slow day at work or this could have gotten really embarrassing fast.

“Is something like that teachable?” Millie asked with doubt in her voice. Hell if I knew, but if it stopped her from crying I’d give it a shot. I thought to myself, well how hard could it be? A slow smile at him, a longish look. Sure that’s teachable, wasn’t it?

We would soon find out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ok folks, is this story true or is it fiction? Let me know! Do you think flirting is something that can be taught? Or is it something someone is born with? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Welcome, everyone! Last week’s story seemed to be a mind game as only one person guessed right. It was FICTION. Yeah, I wish it had been true. I’ve always wanted to stay in a big fancy haunted house but I haven’t. One person, Bill, did pick up that the main character grew up in a place that was haunted, just as I did. So good on you, Bill! Unfortunately, that was the only truth in the whole story and really, I didn’t put it there intentionally. Just seemed a good addition to the story.

Now let’s get going on the next edition of Truth or Fiction. Is it true or a figment of my imagination?

 

Pixabay

 

Giving a Helping Hand

 

Her dog Molly kept pacing the living room and whining. She shushed her once but the pacing just got more frantic. What on earth was wrong with the dog? Molly was usually such a good companion and would lay quietly at her feet but not today. She’d never get those columns of numbers added right with Molly distracting her.

“What is it, Molly? What’s wrong?”

Molly faced the front door and whined. Maybe she needed to go out? Sighing heavily, she pushed herself out of her chair and opened the front door. The sunshine blinded her for a minute and the heat of the afternoon surrounded her, making her instantly regret leaving the air conditioning behind as the door closed behind her.

She hoped Molly wouldn’t take too long to finish her personal business as she needed to get those numbers added and the account books finished for her favorite client. Accounting paid the bills and playing with numbers was always fun.

She smiled as she looked around for Molly. The countryside was brown and dry but the trees still showed a bit of green. This summer had been unduly hot and dry and the usual beauty of the surrounding fields and trees were dulled with brown grasses slowly dying of thirst. She moved to the country after her divorce. It was just her and Molly, her German Shepherd and constant companion. She enjoyed the quiet of the country after the heartbreak she endured in the city last year. Here, she was able to heal and even grow happy again. Just her and Molly.

Thinking of Molly…where was she? Looking around her ears finally picked up the sound of a cow lowing. She knew a ranch owned the fields next to her and they ran cows on them. She had to teach Molly not to be afraid of the cows when she first moved here. Now Molly usually ignored them. They weren’t fun to play with. As she scanned the field for Molly the mooing of the cow seemed more frantic. Almost painful.

Under a large tree, she spotted Molly, once again frantically pacing back and forth in front of a large mound. No, wait, it wasn’t just a mound it was a heifer. She was laying down and making those awful, pain filled mooing sounds. She called for Molly but the dog refused to leave the cow’s side. Something must be wrong, she thought. Molly was acting frantic and the sounds coming from the cow were almost sounding like screams.

Scrabbling over the wooden fence dividing her front yard from the field she ran to where Molly and cow were. What she saw made her suck in her breath and widen her eyes. The cow was laying on her side, her belly swollen huge with pregnancy. She could see the distress in the cows’ eyes as she once again let out that distressing moo/scream. Even to her untrained eye, she could see the heifer was trying to deliver her calf but something was wrong.

She needed to call someone. Who? She couldn’t just leave the poor suffering animal to die. Something was wrong with the birth and she needed help desperately. When the cow gave another loud moo and turned her head to look at her, she could see the pleading in its eyes. She needed to do something fast. The cow didn’t have time to wait for someone. She needed help now!

“Think girl, think! What should I do?”

Then she remembered an article she read a long time ago. When she was much younger she thought about becoming a vet and so she read anything she could on animal care and what should be done if a dog was having a breech birth. She was certain this is what was happening to the cow. The calf needed to be turned so it could come out the right way.

She thought, “Well, a birth is a birth, it can’t be that different from a dog could it?” 

Racing back to the house she wondered what she could use as a lubricant. She needed to stick her hand inside the cow and turn the calf. It wasn’t going to be easy but she had to try. Coming to stop inside the kitchen she frantically looked around. Butter? She didn’t have enough. Her eye fell on the brand new bottle of dishwashing liquid. That would make her hand slippery! She grabbed the bottle and a spare bath towel she had left over the kitchen chair earlier that day and sped back to the cow and Molly.

Molly hadn’t left the cow’s side. It was as if she knew what was going on and knew the cow needed her. Molly laid next to the cow and whined comfort to it.

“Good girl Molly. You keep comforting her while I see what I can do on this end.”

Taking a deep breath she quickly opened the bottle of dishwashing soap and spread a thick layer over her arms and hands. She tried to ignore the large strong hoofs and the sticky puddle of blood as she slowly shoved one hand into the cow. She could feel the calf and yes she had guessed right. It was a breech birth. The calf needed to be turned. It should come out head and front feet first and this one was turned just enough it wasn’t coming out that way.

She was going to need both hands to turn the calf. She wasn’t strong enough one-armed to do it. The cow seemed to know she was trying to help as the mooing stopped and the cow lay still, only once lifting her head to look at her. As if saying, “You can do this.”

Slipping her other arm inside she managed to find the front legs and grasp them. She didn’t need to move them far just a few inches to the side to line them up to the opening so hopefully, the mother had enough energy to push it out.

She felt the head and the front legs and gave a tug on the legs. At first, she didn’t think it was going to work, but then with one great effort, the mother cow pushed while she tugged and suddenly she had a newborn calf in her lap. She took the bath towel and wiped the gunk from the calf’s eyes, nostrils and mouth so it could breathe. Normally, the mother did this but this mother was too tired and so appreciated the help.

She didn’t know she was crying until Molly came over and first licked her tears then started to lick the calf. Those had to have been the most intense, emotional minutes of her life. She dragged the calf who was laying on the towel over to the mother’s head to show her that her baby was alive and well. The mom started licking it and making snuffling sounds.

“Come on Molly. We still need to call the rancher and let him know what happened so he can check up on mother and baby. Plus I need a shower.” 

Later that day the rancher stopped by to thank her for helping the cow and to let her know that both were healthy and fit.

“Well, Molly. A good deed was done today. Let’s just hope there will be no repeat!”

 

 

 

 

Ok, folks. Was this based on truth? Or was it a complete piece of fiction? What would you have done if you came across an animal in need like in the story?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction?

Welcome to this week’s edition of Truth or Fiction. I would also like to thank everyone who has participated in my stories so far. As you know (or maybe you don’t), I will be posting a short story every week that will be based on truth or it may be the writing of my imagination. As I stated in the first story, (you can read it here) the true stories may be MY stories or of someone I know. In other words, not all the true stories are about me.

For example, last weeks story (you can see it here) was a TRUE story but it wasn’t my story. It was my mothers.

My mom shared one of the very rare stories of her past with me a couple of times. How she learned to write so fancy. I always admired her handwriting. It was beautiful. She did indeed learn it from an employer. My mom and a girlfriend ran away from home when she was fourteen. They hitchhiked to Chicago and her first job there was as a maid in a fancy rich lady’s house. It was in the early 1940s. A time when the war was still raging overseas. My mom always spoke fondly of this rich lady and the kindness that was shown to her, a young and naive girl in the big city.

So, some of you got it right, some got it wrong. Thank you all once again for joining me here. Now let’s get going on the next story. Is it based on truth or fiction?

 

photo via Pixabay

 

 

The Proposal

 

The urge to interrupt him before he had finished was overwhelming. She tried several times but her words were drowned out by his proposal. How did things get to this? She didn’t want to marry him! She didn’t want to marry anyone right now. She was young and away from her family for the first time. She wanted to live life to the fullest, not settle down with a man. Not to mention he wanted children right away. Children? She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids. Ever.

She opened her mouth to interrupt him again but he wouldn’t stop. He just talked louder, explaining all the reasons she should marry him. It was horrifying and embarrassing. Her mind flew back to when they first met. It had only been a few months since that first date. It hadn’t even really been a date. She wasn’t sure what it had been.  A foursome with her girlfriend and the guy she picked up at the bar? The two of them just ended up together when her girlfriend hooked up with some guy and he had a friend with him. The man standing before her with a ring and a pleading look in his eyes.

Her girlfriend was no longer seeing the guy she hooked up with that night. Yet, here was Mike, with his greying hair and his earnest eyes and a damn ring explaining all the benefits of being married to him.

“I’ll treat you like a princess. You won’t want for anything.”

Does he really think money is what I want? she thought.  Maybe some women would but not her. She could earn her own money, in fact, she looked forward to it. What she didn’t want was to marry a man twice her age who wanted to put her on some pedestal. Pedestals were shaky things to be on. A person would always fall off at some point. No, she didn’t want that and she didn’t want to get married to Mike, or anyone. Not right now.

“MIKE!”

“Mike, please stop.”

Finally, her words were heard. Mike stopped talking over her and ground to a stop. His smile was still in place as was the earnest look in his brown eyes. She hated what she was about to do.

“Mike, I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, don’t say that. Think about it. I know I’m moving fast but I also know I want you as my wife.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to marry you. Not now. Not ever. I don’t love you like that.”

“I’ll give you anything you want. I have money. You won’t have to work. I have a nice house for you to live in. I love you.”

“I can’t. I just can’t, Mike. I don’t want to get married. I want to live my life, right now.”

“Think about it, ok? Just take some time and think about it.”

“I don’t need time, Mike. The answer will still be no. You need to find someone who will love you like you need to be loved. That’s just not me.”

“Just take a day or two. That’s all. Think about it.”

She knew it was the coward’s way out but she agreed. She also knew she wasn’t going to change her mind but at least it got him to stop begging her. It was so sad to see him do that. She felt so bad for him.

When he tried calling her several days later she wouldn’t take the calls. Another cowardly episode on her part but she just didn’t know what else to do. Eventually, the phone calls stopped and she hoped that Mike found someone he could be happy with.

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever had someone ask something of you that you just couldn’t do? Or have someone propose and turn them down? How would you have handled this situation?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

A New Year, A New Start

Happy New Year, everyone!

Surprised to see me? I bet you are!

I’ve been wanting to start my blog up again and what better time then the new year? I’ve been warning a few people for quite some time now that I was going to start writing on my blog again. Now here I am!

There’s going to be a few changes to the blog. Nothing major. I’m just going to focus more on why I started this labor of love six years ago. Writing. Stories. Imagination. Fun.

As you might have noticed I’ve changed the title of the blog. It’s now “Stories to Tell”. That’s exactly what I want to do. Tell stories. The twist is this….well maybe not so much a twist as….well, ok, maybe it is a twist. For me, anyway.

The stories you will read here might actually be based on truth. Not all of them. Some of them. The others will be complete figments of my very vivid imagination. I will post one once a week, (day of the week still to be determined). What makes this idea a bit twisty is this…..

YOU, the reader, get to guess if the story I post is based on truth or fiction. In the comment section, you write whether you think the story has truth in it or is it a made up story. The following week I will post another story and tell you if the story the week before was truth or my imagination.

The true stories will not all be about me and my experiences. They could also be about people I know and their true experiences! I didn’t want to make it too easy for some of my readers who have followed me throughout my six or so years blogging. I gave out a lot of personal information through the years. This evens things out a bit for newer readers. Or…I’m just devious that way.

So, this is also a call out in a way. If anyone has a true story they want to share with me, so I can write a story based on your experience, get in contact with me through my contact page.

With all that said, let’s get to the first story! Is it true? Or not? You tell me!

 

Photo by Katya Austin on Unsplash

 

Stone Cold

 

She had only been on the job for a couple of weeks. She enjoyed it even if she had to work the night shift. Now that was something to get used to. Usually, the shift was from 5 pm until closing, which was usually around three or four in the morning. She had never had a job where she worked nights. If it hadn’t been for her co-workers she wasn’t sure she would have made it past the first week. They were a great bunch of ladies and gents. Always having a fun time even if they were on the clock.

The job dealt with the gambling community. Not the high rollers like in Vegas but the retired group that had nothing better to do with their time than spend a few hours putting coins in the slot machines. Usually, they were a quiet group, the coin droppers. Sometimes you might get the odd one but all in all unassuming.

Weekends or holidays were the big days. That’s when the working public came in to spend their paycheck or part of it. They’d get busloads of people from the big city farther south. She didn’t mind though, the busy weekends brought in bigger tips and new people to watch.

Her job was exchanging money for coins or paying out winnings. It was interesting. Every once in a while she might even see a big winner at her window. Sometimes she dreamed of winning big somewhere and what she would do with the money. Big dreams.

One weekend she was exchanging paper money for rolls of quarters to one of the regulars when she felt a strange prickling on the back of her neck. Like a cold draft of air brushed over her. She shivered a bit and looked around and found a stranger staring at her. He was behind a couple of excited older ladies, lined up at her window. She only glanced briefly at him and turned to ask the ladies what they needed.

That glance was enough to see he had stone cold eyes. They stared at her without blinking.

As the old ladies walked away the man took their place at her window, still staring coldly at her, and tossed a twenty down on the counter. He didn’t say a word. Just stared. After a brief hesitation where she waited for him to state what he wanted, she decided to ask him hoping that would make him go away quicker. He was giving her bad vibes.

“Would you like quarters?”

He only nodded his head in the affirmative. She slid a roll of quarters his way and picked up the twenty to put in her drawer. After picking up the quarters he turned and walked away all without saying a word or taking his eyes off her. She doesn’t think he even blinked. It was a busy night, so she just shrugged the encounter away thinking he was a bit odd but harmless.

She saw the man with the cold eyes once again that night as he stood in her window to collect his winnings. Once again he didn’t say a word, just stared at her. She counted out his money and pushed it across the counter to him. Picking it up he pulled a twenty out and threw it down on the counter in front of her. For a minute she was confused. Did he want more quarters? Smaller bills? What? Abruptly he turned and walked away. That’s when she deduced that the twenty he threw at her was a tip.

After that first night, he came every weekend and they went through the same routine. He stood at her window, staring with cold eyes, getting his quarters, then cashing out at the end of his night. A few times a co-worker would tell him that they could help him and he would shake his head no and stay where he was, even if he had to wait. He always tipped her twenty, no matter if he won big or not.

Once she asked her co-workers if they knew who he was. They informed her that he was the new owner of a small bar she was familiar with. She used to know the man who owned the bar before the strange man. Most of the people she worked with just said he was a bit on the weird side.

This routine went on until she left her job and moved on to something else. A few months later she had heard from a friend that the strange man, with the stone cold eyes, had committed three murders before he took his own life. He killed his ex-girlfriend and two men he disliked. She gasped when she was told that the man also had a ‘hit’ list of some sort.

She shivered and wondered what would have happened if she stayed at that job. Would she have become a name on his hit list?

That night as she lay in bed and tried to sleep, all she could see was a set of stone cold eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

So, is this story based on truth? Have you ever met a killer face to face? How would you feel if you found out you did?

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Humor, postaday

I’m Sore and Tired of Shoveling!!

Good day, People!

As you could probably tell by my title, I’ve been shoveling snow all weekend. Southern Alberta was hit with a snow storm this weekend. It snowed damn near for all of the last two days.

So yes, I’m sore and tired of shoveling this crap! So, I thought it would be a good day to re-post one of my funnier posts. It’s all about snow and shoveling and stuff……

 

Diary of a Snow Shoveler

December 8 – 6:00 PM

It started to snow.  The first snow of the season and  I took my cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses Print.  So romantic.  I love snow!

December 9

I woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape.  What a fantastic sight!  Can there be a more lovely place in the whole world?  Moving here was the best idea I’ve ever had!  Shoveled for the first time in years and felt young again.  I did both the driveway and the sidewalks.  This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again.  What a perfect life!

December 12

The sun has melted all our lovely snow.  Such a disappointment!  My neighbor tells me not to worry- we’ll definitely have a white Christmas.  No snow on Christmas would be awful!  Bob says we’ll have so much snow by the end of winter that I’ll never want to see snow again.  I don’t think that’s possible.  Bob is such a nice man, I’m glad he’s my neighbor.

December 14

Snow, lovely snow!  8 inches last night.  The temperature dropped to  -20 F.  The cold makes everything sparkle so.  The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks.  This is the life!  The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again.  I didn’t realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I’ll certainly get back in shape this way.  I wish l wouldn’t huff and puff so.

December 15

20 inches forecast.  Sold my van and bought a 4×4 Blazer and 2 extra shovels.  Stocked the freezer.  I thought about a wood stove in case the electricity goes out.  Then thought that’s silly.  We aren’t in Alaska, after all.

December 16

Ice storm this morning.  Fell on my butt on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell.  The neighbor laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17

Still way below freezing.  Roads are too icy to go anywhere.

Electricity was off for 5 hours.  I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm.  Nothing to do but stare at the wall.  Guess I should’ve bought a wood stove.   I can’t believe I’m freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20

Electricity’s back on but had another 14 inches of the damn stuff last night.  More shoveling!  Took all day.  The damn snowplow came by twice.  Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they’re too busy playing hockey.  I think they’re lying.  Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they’re out.  Might have another shipment in March.  I think they’re lying.  Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me.  I think he’s lying.

December 22

Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white sh*t fell today, and it’s so cold, it probably won’t melt till August.  Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to piss.  By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed again.  I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob who has a plow on his truck for the rest of the winter, but he says he’s too busy.  I think the  *sshole is lying.

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December 23

Only 2 inches of snow today.  And it warmed up to 0. Thought about decorating the front of the house today.  Am I nuts?!!  Why didn’t I do it a month ago??!  

December 24

6 inches – Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel.

Thought I was having a heart attack.  If I ever catch the son of a bitch who drives that snow plow, I’ll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel.  I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I’ve just been!  Tonight the family wanted me to sing Christmas carols with them and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for the damn snowplow.

December 25

Merry Christmas! 20 more inches of the damn slop tonight –

Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God, I hate

the snow!  Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel.  The neighbor says I have a bad attitude. I think he’s a fricking idiot.  If I have to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life” one more time, I’m going to scream.

December 26

Still snowed in.  Why the hell did I ever move here?  

December 27

Temperature dropped to – 30 and the pipes froze; plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me $1,400 to replace all my pipes.

December 28

Warmed up to above -20.   Still snowed in.  The neighbor is driving me crazy!!!

December 29

10 more inches.  Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in.  That’s the silliest thing I ever heard.  How dumb does he think I am?

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December 30

Roof caved in.  I beat up the snow plow driver, and now he is suing me for a million dollars, not only the beating I gave him but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass.    Nine more inches predicted.

 

December 31

I set fire to what’s left of the house. No more shoveling.

 

January 8

Feel so good.  I just love those little white pills they keep giving me.  

Why am I tied to the bed?

Posted in Mi Vida Loca, Monday Meeting

Monday Meeting ~~~ Dec. 19, 2016

Hello, People! Hope your weekend went well and you are all ready for the holidays.

It’s been a long time since I did a Monday Meeting. I also needed a venue to whine a bit today. Ha!

 

Monday Meeting

I think this is the first time I was glad to see a weekend pass. Whew.

Saturday I wasn’t feeling well. Nothing serious, just blah and humbug. Early evening I felt a bit off after dinner. Then it dawned on me, I could feel my blood sugars plummeting. Which was weird as I just ate!

Yet, when my blood sugars get low there is a feeling I get, part nausea and part something else which is hard to describe. I kept feeling worse. I walked from one end of the house to the other to my bedroom to do a blood glucose reading. By the time I got the glucose strip into the reader with my drop of blood I was shaking like a snowflake being blown with that wind outside.

The reader only takes seconds to read and crap……I was dangerously low and still dropping. By the time I got back to the main part of the house I could barely walk. I tried to tell the husband to get me some juice….fast! But he didn’t understand me as I guess my speech was slurred.

He finally figured out what I needed and rushed to get me my juice. I was able to sit in the kitchen chair but he had to feed me my juice as I couldn’t hold it, I was shaking too much. Scared the crap out of both of us, I can tell you. I have never had my blood sugar drop so low so fast in the eight or nine years I’ve been a diabetic.

My body ached for hours afterward. It takes much more out of a person than you would think.

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Then, by bedtime the house was getting cool so before I went to bed, I decided to turn up the thermostat. The furnace wouldn’t come on! I knew the house had been getting cool. So I fiddle with the thermostat and the furnace and can’t get the thing to come on. Well dammit.

It’s below zero outside with the wind blowing like a banshee……and the furnace decides to stop working. Great…….

It’s too late to phone anyone and the husband is fast asleep and he knows nothing about furnaces even if he was physically able to do anything. So I decide to just go to bed and try to phone someone first thing in the morning. Sunday morning. Oh hell, it’s going to cost a bloody fortune to get someone on a Sunday to come over even if I can find someone.

So I go to bed worried about how I’m going to find someone in the morning and how I’m going to pay for it. Thank goodness for heating blankets is all I can say. Sam and I managed to snuggle close and stay warm through the night.

I get up Sunday morning to a cold house and a husband I could barely see under all his blankets. He asked me if I knew how to fix the furnace. Nope…..I tried everything I could think of the night before.

It’s 12c (53F) in the house and dropping. The wind outside is vicious. Snow blowing around. And Sunday morning. What do I do?

First I get dressed because it’s too cold to stay in a nightgown. Then I think…….and think…..and worry. Then I have an idea. Our previous Angel from last year who fixed our furnace. Loche (pronounced Lock)………

I hate to call him early Sunday morning but I had run out of ideas. So I find his number and give his cell a ring. He picks up and I tell him who I am and he of course, remembers me right off. I tell him the problem with the furnace after apologizing to him for calling. He says ‘no problem’ and walks me through a couple of things to check. Nothing…..the furnace just won’t come on.

In the meantime, he is also telling me he didn’t get home until 3 am as he was on call with his work on Saturday. Well, hell. I apologize again. I feel terrible that I’m troubling this kind man but I also tell him I didn’t know what else to do.

He decides he needs to come over and look at the furnace to find out why it quit working. He tells me he will be over soon. I thank him and hang up and tell the husband the good news.

Loche shows up less than an hour later after getting out of his warm, barely slept in bed. He takes a look at the furnace and after trying a few things he concludes the problem is the thermocouple. Without that piece, it won’t keep the pilot light lit. He looks in his bags of parts and says he didn’t bring one. No problem, he will go to Home Hardware and pick one up.

So off he goes into the cold, blowing wind to find the part.

About twenty minutes later he comes back with the part and in less than five minutes he has the part installed and the furnace running! I could have hugged him! Except well, I don’t really do hugs and he’s a very shy man and would probably die of bashfulness if I did. But I was tempted!

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This is about the third Christmas in a row that we have had a Christmas angel help us with vital home repairs close to the holidays.

He only charged me 30 dollars for fixing the furnace! Can you believe it?? Now if that’s not a Christmas miracle I don’t know what is. I gave him 40 dollars that I had saved and stashed in my room. I told him to go have a hot cup of coffee on us! He wanted to give me my 10 dollar change back but I wouldn’t take it.

We shook hands and he left to go help someone else because he was still on call for work. He took precious sleeping hours to come help us out…..again.

I felt humbled as I had been in a foul mood and not really into Christmas. Loche helped with lifting that mood. I am so very fortunate in my friends. They are so good to me.

Thank you. And damn it…..

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Fiction, postaday, stories, writing

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Here is another reblog of an earlier story that I wrote for Halloween. Tomorrow I hope to have a brand new one for your reading pleasure! Thank you and enjoy.

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.

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…

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Posted in Blogging, postaday, writing

A Halloween Party ~ A Short Story

I’m reblogging one of my earliest Halloween stories. Tomorrow I will reblog another one and on Monday, I will have a brand new scary story for you! Stay tuned this weekend for some frightfully scary fun!

Halloween once more. Angela checked out the decorations one more time to make sure it all looked as she wanted. She gave a little dance around the room, her long dress swirling in the air. How she loved Halloween! The colors, the fun! She looked forward to this day every year!

She stopped her twirling in the middle of the room. She glanced over the long table that was set for the feast. It was her tradition to give a feast first, where her guests could eat and share stories and laughter. Then they would have dancing and drinks to cool them off from it all. The table was set perfectly, as always. The candles were lit and flickered merrily away. The food was looking good enough to be in one of those glossy magazines . The smells wafting upwards were tantalizing. Soon her guests would be coming in to…

View original post 900 more words

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.