Buried in The Devil’s Abode

MFtS

Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham
Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham


The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode. Melinda and I strolled among the headstones reading names and epithets. The list of the currently interred could go on forever but notables included:

**

Bonnie Parker
1910 – 1934
It’s much better than being caught.

**

Idi Amin Dada
President for Life
1925 – 2003

**

Arizona Donnie Barker
Beloved Mother
1873 – 1935

**

Saloth Sar
1925 – 1998

**

Susan “Sadie May Glutz” Atkins
1948 – 2009

**

Joseph Stalin
1878 – 1953

**

Ulrike Meinhof
1934 – 1976
Protest is when I say this does not please me.
Resistance is when I ensure what does not please me occurs no more.

**

John Lackland
Bad King John
1166 – 1216

**

Ilse Koch
1906 – 1967

**

Maximillien Robespierre
1758 – 1794

**

Some that we expected to see we did not. Caretakers told us, when we asked, that a lot of the monuments are stolen by souvenir hunters. There is still plenty of room there. Let’s hope it stays that way.

Very Roomy

TBP



Allison Hollingsworth was parked in front of the small bungalow on Robin’s Egg Road. In her rearview mirror, she watched a silver Jetta pull in and park at the curb behind her. She popped an altoid in her mouth, checked her cleavage and smiled. As she got out of the car, she extended her hand to the middle aged man getting out of the Jetta.

“Good morning Mr. Bandell. Thanks for meeting me here this morning.”

“Brian please, I always tell you to call me Brian; and I should be the one to thank you Ms. Hollingsworth, I’m so excited. I hardly slept last night after I got the call from your assistant. You think this might be the house I’ve been looking for?”

A puzzled look came over Allison’s face, “Myrna told me you had found the house and called to request a viewing. I didn’t even know this place was on the market. But, I checked the MLS and it’s been available for over 18 months, keeps falling out of escrow for some reason.”

“Never mind,” Brian said with a slight accent she had never been able to place, “can you get us in?”

“I can if there’s a lock box,” she said and held up her special key.

The front door opened directly into a large rectangular room. Allison found a light switch and clicked it on. They saw that the door they had entered was positioned at one end in the middle of a narrow wall. Another door was shut just opposite them and a dark hallway led off to the right a few steps into the room. There was a faint smell in the room, a musty smell.

“Smells a bit like rotting seaweed.” he mentioned and crinkled his nose.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be too concerned, it’s been closed up for a while,” she replied, “I’ve never been inside this house Brian, so we get to explore together.” She touched him on the arm and as they moved away from the front door it swung shut behind them. “This is a pretty good sized room. Standard magnolia coloured paint, but it looks to be in good shape. They might have painted to put it on the market. That’s good, it’s like having a blank slate to work with as you make the house your own.”

Bandell nodded his head and looked around. A rust coloured plush carpet lay on the hardwood floor and an eighteen inch band of honey coloured oak floor was exposed all the way around the room. Indentations on the carped showed him where a couch and coffee table had once sat. He could make out tracks for a couple of additional chairs and maybe a cabinet of some sort.

“I like the carpet,” he said, “the colour is nice and it looks pretty new.” He lifted a corner of the rug to look at the floor, “I hope all the wood floors are in as good’a shape at this one.” Brian was noticing the walls, “Hmm, Allison, why do you suppose there are no windows? I thought I saw windows when we came up the walk.”

Allison didn’t answer. She was walking the length of the room to the opposite doorway. She opened it and found the light switch.

“Brian, come take a look at this.”

He stuck his head in, holding the door open. The second room was identical to the one they had just left. He swiveled his head to compare the two spaces. Same coloured walls, same carpet, with the same indentations. Another hallway lead off to the right. No windows.

“Why would they do this?” he muttered to himself. He was beginning to feel uneasy and reached for Allison’s hand. “Let’s stick together and look down this first hallway,” he said and pulled her back. The light didn’t work in the hall but Allison had a penlight in her bag. They used it to find the first door. Clutching hands Brian pushed it open and Allison pointed the small flashlight inside. It was another identical room; same walls, same carpet, another door and a hallway – there were still no windows.

“I think I’ve seen enough Ms Hollingsworth. This isn’t the house for me.” Backing out of the room they retraced their steps to the front door.

“Kinda creepy, isn’t it?” Allison asked.

Brian opened the front door and stared out, “really creepy,” he said, “I don’t want to alarm you Allison, but take a look.”

She looked through the door and it was dark. Pointing her light through the door, she saw the same walls, same carpet, another door and a hallway off to the right. No windows.

“Well, well, uhm, we must have gotten turned around,” she stammered.

“Shh, listen,” Brian hushed her. “Hear that?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

They both listened for a while to the faint noises coming from down the hallway. They sounded far away. They sounded like screams for help.


Camping With Madeline



“Maddie?” I said, “You awake?”

“I am now,” she said, rubbing her face.

“You see that light shining through the trees?”

Shielding her eyes from the glare she peered in that direction, “Yeah, I do. It’s beautiful.”

“What do you think it is Maddie?”

“The sun, why?”

“Because it’s midnight.”

“Oh Shit!”


 

Picture Prompt #26

Image Courtesy of The Blog Propellant
Image Courtesy of The Blog Propellant


It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were on vacation, for Christ’s sake. It was supposed to be fun, and it had been, until now.

He and Camille had arrived in Barcelona two days earlier. They had spent the last couple of days wandering the city. Exploring, sitting on the beach, sampling the foods, and making love. It was idyllic. It had been idyllic, until now. That morning he had opened his eyes and seen the sun streaming in through the sheer curtains. They had slept in.

Camille was perched on the side of the bed wearing only sheer red lingerie. She looked good in red and even better when she held up the two cups of coffee that she had made with the in-room coffee bar. He smiled and sat up.

“Good morning, Honey.” He said. He sat up in the bed and took the cup she offered. “I must be in heaven. You look great and you have coffee.” She smiled but said nothing. They drank their coffee in silence then made love on the rumpled hotel room sheets.

Richard got up and took the coffee cups back to the coffee bar. He wanted another cup, but these hotels never give you enough coffee for more than two.

“Camille, let’s shower and go to that place at the beach for coffee and breakfast.” He reached out to help her from the bed but she pulled him back in instead. A full seven minutes later he made his way to the bath and showered. Camille, who still hadn’t said a word, was right after him. It was almost 10am when they left the hotel, holding hands. He kept stealing glances of her, walking next to him. She was beautiful, she was glowing, and this vacation was just what she had needed.

“Find us a seat, Honey,” he said. “I’ll go order. What would you like?”

“Just a roll and some coffee.” She smiled and made her way towards a small wooden table on the pavement outside the restaurant.

They were almost done eating when Camille reached into her bag and pulled out a blue and white plastic thing. It looked a little like a spoon. She put it on the table in front of Richard.

“What’s this?” he asked her. “What’s ‘Clear Blue’?” she just pointed at it. Pointed at the little display window near the spoon part. He looked closer. It read ‘pregnant’.

“What? What’s this mean? How could this happen? We take precautions. Did you stop taking your pills? Are you going to get fat? What are you going to do about this?” He put his hand up in front of his mouth. He didn’t want to vomit. His mind was racing. He couldn’t think.

Camille chose that moment to atone for her extended silence. She raised her hand up and lit into Richard, “What do you mean, ‘what am I going to do about this?’” she started.

TBP
TBP

A Boating Party



Gustave put his back into pulling the oars.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

He enjoyed the repetition of his labours.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

He savoured the fresh air.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

He celebrated being on the river; watching the scenery fall in his wake.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

The punt, he nicked in Henley; when he determined to make it downriver. To go as far as possible before the Rozzers showed up.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

He knew he wouldn’t be able to get past the lock in Marlow, but if he could make it there, he could walk away.  His success assured.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

Gustave needed to feel free. Five years in gaol had taken his memories.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

His memories of what freedom felt like.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

With the help of this stolen boat, and this stolen river, he could win back those memories.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke

He hoped to row a million strokes today, at least a million strokes. This is what freedom feels like.

Stroke,

Stroke,

Stroke


🙂

The Birth of an Empire

MFtS

Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham
Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham


The family had no idea that little Luigi would grow up to be a cook. No not a cook, a baker and confectioner. Luigi would wake early; bake a batch of sweet, sticky cinnamon rolls that his family would eat for breakfast. They would come home in the evening to a bounty of cakes, pies, brittles, chews, and the like.

They all doubled in size.

Determined to create the ultimate dessert and snack food, one day Luigi began experimenting with his grandmother’s sponge cake recipe, baking golden yellow finger cakes in cast iron molds. His sister wandered in for a snack and took one of the cakes. She stuck the end of a sweet cream filled icing bag into the cake and squeezed, filling it with cream before she popped it in her mouth.

“Mmmm,” she said and did it again.

Luigi watched her and finally snatched the sixth one she made and tasted it himself.

“Eureka,” he exclaimed, “I’ll call them Twinkies.”