i’m sorry to be leaving

i really didn’t want to go

but there are things i needed up-graded here…

and the silence said “the answer was …no…”

 

i wanted a spell checker

‘cause i am really not that good

and it makes posting so much more fun

when the server checks spelling, like it should…..

 

i wanted my readers to feel comfortable

to leave a comment before they go

but again I got the silent treatment

so i said..  “this is definitely a no!!!”

 

i’ve moved right down the blog-sphere

to a place where why-paisley’s mom

you can click right here to find me

at why-paisley.com…..

 

http://why-paisley.com/justpaisley

 

an on going story..........

chapter 1

back to the 'hood

august 2, 2007   1:45pm


the reality of the whole thing was that she knew what she had to do.. the reality  of the whole thing is that all of this had been planned out, thought through,, firmly decided,, oh so long ago.. the reality of the whole thing was that this was never really supposed to happen...

and yet it had.. the magic words had been spoken. the sentence had been handed down,,, and there was no turning back now.

as she turned left onto clarkson avenue,, she knew what had to be done.. and yet,, having always been a huge fan of procrastination,, she knew that in order for this whole thing to work out according to plan.. she had to act,, and act now.... before she was able to think about it.. way before her logical mind had time to talk her out of it...
 
the buildings with which she and her little blue scion were surrounding themselves where becoming ever so much more decayed.. the graffiti, more prevalent.. the trash rolling over the tops of the dumpsters,, blowing freely down the street,, and then clinging in wet piles in the puddles of car wash water and urine that lined the sides of the road....

she had been clean for so long,, but she had never forgotten the way you could smell the street.. the way you could smell the game.. and just know...

she saw a small group of boys hanging on the corner of 74th and clarkson,, in front of what used to be a chinese take out,, and now more closely resembled a shooting gallery of days gone by...

she slowed,, rolled down her window and yelled to them out the window,, without actually getting to close or stopping all the way...

"hey man,, any y'all workin'???"

the boys all turned and started toward her,, each one wanting to take her money...  each one hiding behind the face of a child.. but possessing  mind of a street hardened playa'....

she rolled to a slow stop....clicked off the fan on her air conditioner.... for once,, she really didn't  mind being exposed to the heat...

"you cop?"
"you looks like a cop."
"she ain't no cop..."
"what chew need??"

all talking at once,, all wanting to be the hand that she palmed the cold hard green cash into.. each one knowing the game,, some willing participants.. some just hungry little thieves...

she looked at them.. she thought about all the times she had done this dying to get the drugs...and now she was getting the drugs... to die...

"eight tens a boy"...she interjected into their sea of distrust...

she watched all ten of the little brown eyes that were staring her up and down,,, light up...

her runner was selected,, the others would stay here with her to make sure she was "a'rite"

... and maybe hold her lighter, or her sunglasses or anything else they could talk her out of....

they thought they were winning.. they had no idea...they were the trick this time....

her boy returned,, eight tiny waxed paper envelopes with a picture of a monkey on a swing stamped carelessly on each one...

she gave the runner a ten.. it was all she had left... she wouldn't be needing it any more...the boys swarmed him,, each one wanting his own little sumpin' sumpin',, out of the deal...she drove off...

she was armed.. she was dangerous...it was check out time







chapter 2

flashback

june 23, 1995

 

she could hear the truck down shifting to a stop.. it had been such an awful day,, sleeping here in the hide-a-bed of a strangers truck was the closest thing to peace she had experienced all day........ she closed her eyes and instantly drifted right,, back,, to sleep… the 10 or more beers she had drank earlier in the evening making this given…

she awoke with a start some time soon after.. he was sitting on her chest... the fat, bald, truck driver... the one that had offered to take her as far as memphis... he was sitting on her chest,, holding her arms at her sides with his legs,, and he was pushing his short, fat, soft, glow in the dark white dick in her mouth… this wasn’t happening….

 “suck it baby.. come on,,go on now,,, take it ,,,"

 she did…

 what else could she do.... he was sitting on her chest… she sucked him..

tears of utter frustration made their way out of the little slits in the huge purple swellings that surrounded both eyes… she and miguel had been drinking earlier in the night,, he started the whole "whore" thing again.. she fought back..  she was no match for him when he was hammered… he blackened both her eyes and broke her nose.. she ran into the night and hopped in the first ride that pulled over to let her in…

this guy… this trucker.. the one that had his dick in her mouth.. the one that was straddling her chest, restraining her arms with his legs,, the one that had the forethought to wash himself off with some kind of baby wipes,, she could smell them and taste them as he sat on her,, stuffing his dick,, in her mouth,, saying .. “there you go girl ,, that’s right,, you know oh,, yeah…..”

 

luckily for him,, he came quickly… lucky for her he had no other intentions.. when he was done,, he was done..he wanted her out of the truck…she would have stayed...she had no where to go...it was dark..

the sun hadn’t quite broke the horizon.. as she headed off toward what she assumed was the highway...she thought she saw a building up ahead…. maybe there would be a phone… who would she call??

he drove away before she had a chance to really think about what had happened…she cried, silent tears,, no sound.. no feeling..  just there..

the filling station was old and closed.. boarded windows.. no pumps.. no phone.. no nothing.. she was nowhere.. at least she had no clue where she was .. what direction he had really been driving.. how far from dallas she really was...

she was too drunk to notice before.. she had asked him if he would mind if she laid down.. it had been such a bad night,, she just wanted to lay down.. to pass out .. to make it all go away…she thought he felt sorry for her.. she thought when he actually saw her black and blue and bloody,,, and crying.. she thought he understood...


she thought he was telling the truth when he said he'd take her as far as memphis.. she could find her way to michigan from there.. to her mom.. she wanted her mom.. she wanted to go home...she laid down,, thinking that when she woke,, she would be half way there...

but... here she was... on a dark stretch of highway. somewhere in texas... walking in the middle of the road, as there wasn't a car coming in either direction.. she wouldn't have had the balls to stick her thumb out ,, if there had been one....

 
she walked… alone… first in the dark.. then in the itty bitty glow,, of the sun breaking over the flat texas horizon... the sky dark, and gray, and mournful…

she walked.. the highway was desolate.. she couldn’t fathom getting a ride.. not once it got light and people could see her,, could see the blue black of her disfigured  face… see the blood all over her shirt, her jeans.. probably her face… where it hadn’t been washed away by the tears she didn't even really know she had been crying..

she walked, alone, into the sunrise.. and screamed at the top of her voice,,, into the nothingness… “ i quit.. i quit!!! you win.. you win!!! alright,, you win!!!!!!”

chapter 3

obsessions

august 2, 2007 9:07am

“you be good,, you dogs.. you wait for your mom.. i’ll be back as quick as i could my dogs.” she said to them as she readied herself to go out the door.. it was the same conversation,, whether she was going to work, or out to lunch, or to the doctor, like she was today, she had a standard line she used on them…. and they understood her. they knew by the repetitive words, and tone of voice, she was leaving and they weren’t going with her…

she had stopped to drop off the mail, and pick up the latest delivery from her netflix account on the way.. she was hungry, but decided to stop at the chinese chuck wagon on her way back thru town, and have chinese take out for lunch and dinner.. that way there would be plenty to share with the dogs….

most people thought her obsessed,, and she probably was. those dogs were her world. they ate. slept, played, worked, together.. they did everything together.. she talked to them and about them as if they were people.. and truly.. to her .. they were…

her first dog, jake, a huge “warlock” doberman, was indeed the reincarnation of every rotten man she had ever known. he was self-centered,, abusive,, retaliatory,, demanding.. yes indeed,, having him around had reminded her on a daily basis why she remained determined not to enter into a relationship.. as surely as she was alive,, she would have chosen a man just like jake.

nice guys just couldn’t cut it.. if they were “good for her” she would chew them up and spit them out in no time flat. it was true.. if they weren’t a “bigger man” than she was,,, they just didn’t stand a chance….”long hair..big dick..bad attitude..apply within”.. still rang as true today as it had the day she had those words printed on a tee shirt.. you know,, to where when she went out “looking”… to save on the wear and tear of having to audition… those that need not apply…

so years ago,, after repeated attempt and failure episodes,, she just gave up completely on the idea of ever finding a man..

she had had her man,, once… and even that time.. it didn’t last.. couldn’t last.. they would have destroyed each other… she had always thought,,, “some day, when he’s done.. someday when he’s ready…”…. but when he died,,, stuck a needle in his arm one last time…. she knew,, someday would never come….

and after a long and painful period of obsession,, guilt,, and anger,, and denial,, she was able to yield to her grief,, allow it to go on without her.. she was free,, once again to live….

she had found that she was best suited to being alone.. and being alone was conducive to writing.. and writing was more gratifying if people were actually reading it,, and there were indeed people who would read what she wrote if she published a blog.. or two.. or three….

how quickly she evolved into a person that was more at home in front of the computer in her pajamas, than anywhere else… how quickly her role in the “real” world paled in comparison to her role in the “cyber” world…

how quickly she became obsessed with the writing,, and the commenting,, and the implementation of all things blog.. it over took her world…

she thought of little else.. she concentrated on nothing else.. everything else,, had fallen by the wayside… after all she was an addict,, and this her most fascinating addiction yet…

 

 

she had taken the road less traveled

though it was unbeknownst to her

as it wound and twisted,, here and there

she walked an old forgotten road

as it wound and twisted,, here and there

though it was unbeknownst to her

she had taken the road less traveled

this is a short story inspired by this painting,, ” the dining room” by paul signac.. in response to a writing prompt on musecrafters writer’s workshop…..

we had finished our luncheon, father and i … matilda was soon to bring in the mail,, and father was smoking the last of his after dinner cigar.. as was his custom,, at any given moment,,, he would bid me adieu,, he would retreat to his office with the mail, and a brandy, have a nap,,, and spent the rest of the afternoon, busying himself at his desk,, as if he still had a great deal of work to be done….

it had been quite some time since father had actually had a great deal of work to be done…

i remember in my childhood… mother would always put me to nap straight away after luncheon…”your father has a great deal of work at hand,, and he will need absolute silence in which to do it….do be a dear and lay here quietly … you haven’t to sleep if you don’t wish to ,,, but don’t utter a sound,, my little ‘amich’,, and i will come for you soon enough…”

now, with mother gone,, it was i who maintained the silence for father,, as he spent his day cloistered in his office. it was i who saw to it that his schedule was strictly adhered to, by the house staff,, and it was i who maintained that he had ” a great deal of work to be done,, and silence must be observed…”

i had become to him, what mother could no longer be.. i had willingly remained in his house,, adhering to his schedule,, first by mothers decree,, and now at my own hand for all of my 28 years… i did not attend university. i did not seek employ. i did not accept the invitation to enjoy the company of any of the young gentleman that made mention that they would enjoy my company.. i had done my duty as daughter,, and then as surrogate lady of the house… and in the recent past,, the joy had gone out of it.. it had become just that … a duty…

i often felt empty, alone, left behind….. until i was introduced to the siren song,, that was america.. the land of opportunity.. the land that opened her arms,, and yes it seemed, even her heart,, to people from all walks of life and from every land… land of the free home of the brave….. america…..

matilda had been good enough to share a letter with me from her sister… she was in new york america.. a huge wonderful bustling city.. full of all kinds of people and work was a plenty…

in fact she had sent the letter,, in hopes that matilda would send a letter seeking employment in the same house in which she was employed in the kitchen… her good friend who currently held the position of governess to the couples “two adorable children” was set to leave the house,, to be married soon,, and she would be giving her notice.. so they conspired to have matildas letter of employment at the ready when she did,, with a personal recommendation… surely they would receive her with open arms….

in its stead,, what they received was a letter seeking employment, in the house of buchannon,, for the position of governess to the “two adorable children” ,, from none other than,, herself,, amelia josephine radiszac… me..

as her sister had been acquainted with our family, during the course of matildas 15 years in the employ of the radiszac household,, she had given me a radiant recommendation,, and i, amelia josephine radiszac,, had been accepted into the employ of the buchannon household, position of governess, to the “two adorable children”,, to be assumed starting september 1, 1902,, just over two months from today….

i had suffered greatly trying to find precisely the right moment to tell father,, in exactly the correct combination of words,, that i, had accepted the position… that i, had booked passage.. that i, was going to america..

the difficulty was embrangled by the fact that i better than anyone knew that at this point in his life,, an older man,, yet still in possession of his health,, with his wife already gone before him,, no real work to be done,, and now his only prodigy,, his only daughter,, was leaving… to america…

to a life she could only imagine.. to a place she had never been.. to a country where she spoke not the language.. to the home of a family she had never laid eyes on.. to a job, she had only ever seen done,, in this very house,, by her very own governess,, many years ago…..

as matilda entered with the mail, i opened my mouth to speak.. to blurt it out.. to open the floodgates and spill everything in one long, loud, run-on sentence,, as i could delay not a moment longer… as i formed the word in my throat… father,, uncharacteristically cleared his..

“hrumph.. amelia, my dear… something here for you in todays post….”

he looked at me with different eyes,, soft eyes,, eyes that reminded me very much of mothers eyes,, but nothing like any eyes i had ever seen from him before….

“oh my father,, thank you,, what on earth…” i replied, flustered indeed that it had chosen such an inopportune time in which to appear… as he handed me the thick white envelope,, i noticed it was written in a hand that looked vaguely familiar,, and posted from right here in the city… no time for this now,, my courage was ebbing…

without further inspection,, i jumped into rapid conversation…”father,, dear father,, i have something of the greatest importance that i need to discuss with you…you see.. as the fates…” he cut me off…abruptly..

“amelia.. open the post.. we will have plenty of time to talk after the correspondence has been seen to….” he admonished. and i had never been one to question fathers direct admonition…

so i turned the envelope, and obediently broke the seal,, and proceeded with haste to withdraw the likes of  an accounting book of some sort.. small in stature,, but the like of which i had seen many times in fathers office.. it being something i had never had any personal dealings with,, i was confused,, and quite taken aback upon receiving one in the mail.. i wondered immediately what? and who? and how would i in fact explain something like this to father? seeing as how i had no idea myself…. my mind was a whirl as i had so much to say,, and now this…..

“what have we here??” father asked sternly,, and with obvious question?? pointing and waving his his finger at the small accounting ledger i held it closed tightly in my hand..

“well for the love of man,, amelia,, don’t sit there and stare at it.. open it,, ameila,, open it….”

and i did..

inside was a single slip of paper folded twice, and a ledger book to be sure,, stating that it was in fact the herald of 7000 russian rubel had been placed in account on july 14th 1895,, by… by mother… mother???

i looked up at father,, his face was soft.. his eyes moist with the first mist of a tear i had ever seen there… immediately i unfolded the letter,, and in the same scriptish handwriting i had recognized on the envelope,, i saw this:

my little ‘amich’,

i know in my heart, i will not be here to share this day,, this joy,, with you.. i regret leaving you but i assure you,, it was indeed beyond my control..

i cannot be there to guide you, i cannot be there to dry your tears, and partake in your joys and sorrows.. but i can leave you this… the zlotys from the sale of your grandmother tomaczic’s house,, which she left to me many years ago, when you were but a child.. i have put them today on account, in your name, in the form of the russian rubel, which is as i write this the only acceptable form of currency here in, my beloved poland..

it was always my intention to spend these monies to make your dream come true, if it was something within my power,, and something that i could see by the light in your eyes,, that you had chosen for yourself… today,, your father has decided,, on my behalf,, is just that day…

i may leave you
but i will never stop loving you
my darling ‘amich’

mother

and at the end in small script i knew to be fathers the post script read..
“to life.. to your life.. to america..”

i was weeping with such force i could no longer speak.. and my mind had been washed clean of anything i might have had to say..

as i looked up at father,, thru my tears,, i saw matilda,, in the doorway,, with tears all her own,, streaming down her smiling face……

photo: http://www.artunframed.com/images/NewFolder15/signac37.jpg

thunderstorms frightened her, but tonight the blasting thunder added to her fury...

 she waited with reeling anticipation for the storm to reach its zenith,, she could tell the house was without power,, no longer did she hear the tick tock of the clock,, the refrigerator refused to whir to life,, the sum pump had ceased to pump.. yes indeed the house was without its life giving power ..and she would at last be given the advantage she had been waiting oh, so patiently for...

she knew not how long it had been,, she had lost count very quickly .. the indeterminate intervals between his visits had only played into the process of confusion..

 the bright lights all but blinding her every time he did indeed allow her entry into his sick little world,, the hot bright studio lights under which he posed her and played with her, dressed her up, and photographed her,, in all her childishly decorated glory... how many times.. how long had it been days weeks months???

she had no way of knowing....as he had kept her here... in this box.. under the floor boards... under the bed....gagged and silent..

she had been here exactly as long as it had taken her to take possession of the broken shard of mirror,, that night when she bled for the first time,, and it threw him into a rage, calling her "defiled. wanton. whore...  just like mother..."

 ..it was then that he had packed  her full of cotton and gauze and painstakingly stitched her shut...and in his fevered frenzy, to preserve his little girl,, his pride and joy...the very object of his affections.... he didn’t notice her retrieving the one long thin pointed piece of glass that fell within her reach...

 the one piece that she inserted ever so carefully into the painful packed stitched cavity,, where it had remained... cradled, protected, embraced by the gauze,, the cotton,,  baptized in the blood of her new found womanhood...

until tonight.. she had withdrawn it quickly, sharply, painfully... tonight this night when she would have the advantage of the darkness,, and the element of surprise.. as he lifted the lid,, in the dark,, she would be ready,, she would be poised,, she would spring upon him,, waving and slashing and fighting for whatever might be left of her life.....

 to finally be given this opportunity to lash out at him  knowing all the while,, she may not be able to free herself,,, but indeed drunk with the very idea of marking him,, maiming him,, hurting him,, as he had hurt, and marked, and maimed her,,,  would be gratification enough....would be worth giving her last breath for...

 she lay silently,, shard of glass gripped tightly in her hand,, the warm ooze of fresh blood between her legs and thunder rolling just ahead of the lightening that no longer frightened her,, but served to empower her and at least this once it would provide her with the darkness that would illuminate the way out... the only way.. the darkness would be her light at the end of this long dark tunnel....

 
 

inspired by:

http://www.crimelibrary.com/criminal_mind/psychology/

sex_slave/index.html

this is an ongoing story... as i publish new sections,, they will be added to the story in its entirety here....

I

if they spoke a her birth,,, she never heard ‘em… if they blamed her for mamas dyin’,,, she was unaware… if they thought that she was less than, ‘cause she couldn’t hear ‘em… they was wrong. ’cause she never knowed,, and didn’t care..

as a baby, she never cried,,, so they called her silence. as a child she never talked,,, musta’ had no sense… she couldn’t go to school,,, so she worked with papa.. in silence,,, she hoed, and planted, and mended fence..

when she was 12 they brought a man ’round.. name a henry… when she was 13 papa sent her off,, to be his wife.. she cried inside,,, that night,, when he done it to her,, but in silence,,, she accepted it as life….

season passed, and she could see, her belly growin’,,, when her henry patted her,,, on the bump,, it made him smile.. but when the pains come,,, she had no way a knowin’,, that li’l henry had been in there all the while….

with henry workin’, sun up to down,, in the fields, with no papa,, no kin,, all a this was new… she learned on her own, to care, for li’l henry, he spent his days,, and learned they ways,, of silence too…

II

silence and her boy they cooked an mended.. they fed the hogs,, the cow, the goats,, the chickens too… they canned the fruit and smoked the meats and did the scrubbin’,, they did everything she come to know,, that she should do..

they walked for miles in the summer just the two together,, they picked flowers and pretty weeds,, no difference there.. they spent the winter choppin’ wood and curin’ coonhide,, makin’ tend they wasn’t hungry when the cupboards bare…

they made a friend, name ol’ miss may,, a bent old woman.. she lived in yonder holler, just her, and all 'em cats.. she learned li’l henry ’bout talkin’ and story tellin’, she learned ‘em both ‘bout livin’ off the land, ’bout birthin’ cats..

she could mix up a tincture, to cure what ails ya.. she could say a prayer, that would draw the pain, from henry’s back.. she could make a stew, out a weeds, and roots, and flowers.. she could make a dress, from an old, worn, burlap sack..

and when it come to birthin’, she knew,, no one had to git her.. she would come on up,, when the pains had just begun,, she brung a girl first a summer,, weren’t no blessin’,, truth was,, all they needed was another son…

the girl was fair, and she was thin,, they called her sister.. she growed up fast, and learned to walk in nar a year.. she had the smile of an angel, and they come to love her.. she weren’t a boy,, but henry said, “maybe next year…”

sure enough, her belly growed ‘bout time a plantin’,, by that fall, she was swoll clean out to here.. silence knowed now and she could feel the baby movin’,, soon the night come, and ol’ may, she showed up there….

when ol’ may come, henry went off and left the women,, ‘cause he knowed his place,, and it surely wasn’t there.. when the boy come,, he had the caul of evil on him,,, ol’ may took him to the woodshed,, and left him there…

when she come back she sat in silence, and fashioned corn husks.. she twisted this, and bended that, and tied it here… she took great care, and and never spoke, whole time she worked it,, she give the doll to silence,, lit the candle and left her there…

silence lay sick, for what seemed like a season,, li’l henry he helped his pa, and sister too,, they did their best, while their ma was a mendin,, but they couldn’t know her heart and spirit was broke in two…

on the full moon silence raised up, and put her dress on.. she took the doll, and the candle, and left the house.. she walked alone, down the mountain, to the holler,,, and there, she set fire to the doll,, and miss mays house….

she sat and watched,, as her tears, they fell in silence.. she loved miss may,, but she had to do,, what she had done.. for once evil, comes to rest, upon a family,, burnin’s the only way she knowed,, to make it run…

III

if they spoke about miss may… she never heard ‘em… if they blamed silence for her dyin’,, she was unaware… all she knowed was ol’ miss may,, had kill't her baby.. and left the corn husk doll, and the burnin’ candle there.

as the sun rose and then set,, li’l henry,, grew up hard and strong, was nar a man.. sister tho’, she was a beauty, remained a frail one, helpin’ silence ’round the house, best she can…

li’l henry left off his momma, to work with daddy, a pickn’ an a plantn’ the in fields… his pa needed him now,, with five mouths to feed,,, and silence, had brother john on her heels..

that season, li’l henry learnt ’bout bein’ tired, ’bout bein’ hurtin’ and just plum wore out, li’l henry was swiftly becomin’ the man, his pa had been talkin’ about…

winter come and the days they got shorter,, but still there was work to be done,, wood choppin’, fence mendin’, fixin’ holes in the roof,, henry thanked god he had been blessed with two son..

sister girl she was everyones darlin’, with her yella hair and cheeks all aglow,, she would set on her pa’s lap and sang to him,, she was daddys li’l angel, don’t ya know…

in the winter of her fifth year, her spirit left her, as she lay still, on a pallet by the fire,, silence, tho she was ’bout to burst out with child,, dug a hole and planted sister,, under a heart,, she made a wire….

a piece of silence,, lay in the ground,, just next to sister.. a piece that brother john, coulda’ never knew, but was henry,, that took it the hardest,, her leavin’ pert near cut him clean thru…

first he come down with a cough, then pneumonia,, tho he said it was “just a li’l ol’ cold,”, it put him in the ground next to sister,, when li’l henry weren’t but 9 years old…

“your the man now”,, all the hill folk they would tell him.. “gotta por-vide for your ma and your kin”,, he laid up nights in the hay bed in the barn loft, just a figurin’ why the good lord hated him…

but up he’d be,, at dawn fore the cock crowed,, he’d haul the wood and the water from the well, he’d light the fire, then wake silence, fix his corn pone,, by candle light,, whole house,, cold as hell..

spring come and it was time for a plantin’.. silence, henry, brother john , baby girl too,, worked from sun up to down in the fields, they was alone now,, this is what they had to do…

in the night, in the cool of the ev’nin’,, with silence rockin’ baby girl,, all but sleep,, henry told brother john many stories,, ’bout ol’ may, and how she died in her sleep..

deep inside her,, silence heart had long since had left ‘em,, baby girl and them two boys all alone,, as summers heat ‘came winters cold… her girl-soul was stole,, all the pain and the dyin’ had left her old…

many a nights they ate grease bread and fried taters,, sometimes eggs,, or killt a chicken for to fry… but for the most them boys sat round in silence, hungry, tired,, tellin’ tales,, never askin’ why…

why the god in the heavens if there was one,, had looked down with such hate in his heart,, taken the boy baby, then sister, then papa,, leavin’ their ma and her children near tore apart.

but as she sat and she rocked by the fire light, silence said it all without formin’ a word.. the gray lined skin on her face leaving nary a trace,, of the little girl turned old woman who never heard..

when the young’uns said they loved her, she never heard ‘em…. but she could see it in their eyes,,, yes, that she knew,, tho’ they was mountain born and bred and tough as nails.. they loved their momma,, and in silence,, she loved them too..

IV

there was somethin' evil goin' on amongst the hill folk.. silence saw it in the way they held their eyes,, there was a plottin' and a plannin' bein' done somewheres,, even brother john could see thru their disguise..

then come the night, they come and tried to talk to henry.. they wanted to move 'em to a small shack over by the church.. rev'rund said he'd take the land and house and hand it over,, to whoever come up a wantin',, a carryin',, the biggest purse.

they said "its better,, for yer ma, an her chil'ren,, this top land ain't no place for yer ma and that girl chile,, we'll take you boys to work the bottom land down past lodi, you be a sendin' money home,, all the while..."

silence looked at the black, as it run thru henry.. she had no idea the extent of their plan.. but what she seen in her boys eyes,, weren't fear,, but anger, he weren't no boy now,, tonight he was a man...

he stepped up, and away, from the table,, and left 'em sittin',, silence watched him,, as he walked toward the door,, he opened it wide, grabbed the shot gun, pointed straight at the rev'rund,, said "get out,, or we'll be a washin' you off the floor...."

they said nothin, 'cause they knowed no one would hear 'em,, they walked single file, quick like, out the door.. baby girl she come a runnin' and grabbed her mama... henry hung the shotgun,, back on the wall,, and closed the door...

this was a night they would forever, be rememberin'.. henry's son,, had no doubt become a man. in the firelight, as she rocked li'l baby sister,, silence face,, it glowed with pride,, wishin' henry coulda' seen his boy take a stand...

she thought 'bout, how he took her, just a girl,, from her papa,,, how he brung her here,, that dark night all alone.. how she learned to know and trust him,, as the time passed,, how he taught her to clean and cook and and run a house,, on her own...

she had come to love him dearly, in her own way.. course she never said it, but then she was sure,, neither did he.. 'stead he give her plenty children, and this home place,, and it was hers now,, thanks to their boy henry,, and the man he come to be..

a tear formed, but never fell,, as she set there thinkin',, 'bout days an' people an' life gone by,, baby girl she lay silent on her mama,,, till henry come an' told her,, "kiss yer mama, say g'night..."

V

brother john just sat a watchin',, from the fireside,, he knowed his brother had took his place,, as the family head.., he stood up, kicked the dog,,,not hard,, just gently,, said, "get afoot, dog.. we's a goin' to bed...

if they spoke a that night,, she never heared 'em.. what tales they told about her henry,,,, she was unaware... what she did know,, was that she had set there, at that table,, and watched her boy chile become a man,, right then, right there.....

now brother john, was just a bucket full a mischief, he weren’t like henry, he was always into somethin’ he shouldn’t be,, never did pay no mind to his brothers wailin’,, he’d just call back.. “yep…that’s jus’ why you isn’t me!”

he was short and he was thick, like a li’l tree stump.. don’t know where he got his size from,, not silence’ kin.. he wore his heart on his sleeve,, anybody teased him,, got his lip cracked,, or swift kick in his shin…

he didn’t take no lather, from the school boys, when they walked past him,, as he was workin’in the fields ever morn’.. he’d kick the spit out any one that come a asking,, and he was always just a tootin’ his own horn…

one summer night,, as the sun set on the mountain.. he stealed away to the hayloft all alone,, smokin’ corn silk cause he could’t git no tabaccy, watching the sunset,, smokin’ his pipe,, here, he was a man, all on his own…

baby girl she stole up on him,, and climbed in silence,, the wooden ladder that their daddy made ‘em so long ago,, ‘for she was born, back when she was nothin’ but a twinkel,, she stood down a rung,, so he couldn’t see her tho….

she seen him smokin’,, tho he knowed henry would wup him,, he didn’t care “it didn’t hurt” or so he’d said, didn’t care if he  went to bed without no supper,, he was a tough one,, her brother john,, head, hard as lead….

she never said a word, ’bout  be’in up there,, she didn’t want anyone to know, she’d she’d found his perch, she dug around some and found his old pipe and some dry cornsilk,, in a fish tin under a hymn book,, he stole from the church…

not a firestick to be found, then she remembered.. brother john brung the lantern from the milk stall in the barn,, she climbed back down,, and left off her smokin’,, for the time be’in,, for if he caught her,, she knowed for sure shed get a tarin’..

next day, they was up, with the sunrise, boys off to the fields,, or so she thought,, momma washin’ up the dishes in the kitchen, she lit a spike, and took it with her,, was the lantern that she sought…

as she stepped into the barn,, henrys old cat name a yeller’,, jumped down from the loft just a grazin’ her head…. she dropped the fire,, an the hay it took to burnin’… she got scared, run in the house,, hid under the bed…

it was a slow wind,, but it was steady,, blowin’ thru the kitchen… silence smelt fire and ran quickly to the door,, she grabbed the shot gun.. got off two shots to let the boys know.. boys they,, heard her signal,, smelled the smoke,, took to a run…

they ran right for the trough,, start throwin’ water.. silence grabbed brother johns shirt near yanked it off . she made a signal with her hand wavin’,, ’bout waist high,, boys knowed,, she thought the little one,, was a burnin’ with the hay stack..

brother john he throwed himself into the water ,, he soaked his self from the sole of his feet to the top his tow white head,, and run hell bound into the barn,, fear be damned,, he never knowed his li’l sister was under the bed….

when her “wannano “ finally got the better of her ,, she slipped out and stood in the front room by the door.. watchin’ silence and henry tryin’ to oust the fire,, till brother john, full in flames, screamed out that barn door..

both silence and henry grabbed a hold of ‘em,, threw him head first into the water,, held him down,, till he come up gaspin’ for air and spied his sister,, in the front door,, just a lookin’ at the ground…

his first thought was to tan her,, for the fright he’d had,, but his second was how glad he was to see her there,, silence, henry ,and brother john ,, they runned up on her,, all of ‘em cryin’ and kissin’ her red curly hair….

they lost the barn,, all the hay and most the plow tools.. but in hind sight,, it weren’t nothin’,, no one cared.. they had their girl,, that god in heaven,, couldn’t get him this one.. she was safe now,, and she was gonna stay safe,, right there….

if they talked about the fire,, she never heared em,, tho they spoke of it a lot,, she was unaware,, the tellin’ of her boy john,, not fearin’ death, at the flames hand,, just got taller,, ever time that it was shared…..

an on going story..........

chapter 1

back to the 'hood

august 2, 2007   1:45pm


the reality of the whole thing was that she knew what she had to do.. the reality  of the whole thing is that all of this had been planned out, thought through,, firmly decided,, oh so long ago.. the reality of the whole thing was that this was never really supposed to happen...

and yet it had.. the magic words had been spoken. the sentence had been handed down,,, and there was no turning back now.

as she turned left onto clarkson avenue,, she knew what had to be done.. and yet,, having always been a huge fan of procrastination,, she knew that in order for this whole thing to work out according to plan.. she had to act,, and act now.... before she was able to think about it.. way before her logical mind had time to talk her out of it...
 
the buildings with which she and her little blue scion were surrounding themselves where becoming ever so much more decayed.. the graffiti, more prevalent.. the trash rolling over the tops of the dumpsters,, blowing freely down the street,, and then clinging in wet piles in the puddles of car wash water and urine that lined the sides of the road....

she had been clean for so long,, but she had never forgotten the way you could smell the street.. the way you could smell the game.. and just know...

she saw a small group of boys hanging on the corner of 74th and clarkson,, in front of what used to be a chinese take out,, and now more closely resembled a shooting gallery of days gone by...

she slowed,, rolled down her window and yelled to them out the window,, without actually getting to close or stopping all the way...

"hey man,, any y'all workin'???"

the boys all turned and started toward her,, each one wanting to take her money...  each one hiding behind the face of a child.. but possessing  mind of a street hardened playa'....

she rolled to a slow stop....clicked off the fan on her air conditioner.... for once,, she really didn't  mind being exposed to the heat...

"you cop?"
"you looks like a cop."
"she ain't no cop..."
"what chew need??"

all talking at once,, all wanting to be the hand that she palmed the cold hard green cash into.. each one knowing the game,, some willing participants.. some just hungry little thieves...

she looked at them.. she thought about all the times she had done this dying to get the drugs...and now she was getting the drugs... to die...

"eight tens a boy"...she interjected into their sea of distrust...

she watched all ten of the little brown eyes that were staring her up and down,,, light up...

her runner was selected,, the others would stay here with her to make sure she was "a'rite"

... and maybe hold her lighter, or her sunglasses or anything else they could talk her out of....

they thought they were winning.. they had no idea...they were the trick this time....

her boy returned,, eight tiny waxed paper envelopes with a picture of a monkey on a swing stamped carelessly on each one...

she gave the runner a ten.. it was all she had left... she wouldn't be needing it any more...the boys swarmed him,, each one wanting his own little sumpin' sumpin',, out of the deal...she drove off...

she was armed.. she was dangerous...it was check out time







chapter 2

flashback

june 23, 1995

 

she could hear the truck down shifting to a stop.. it had been such an awful day,, sleeping here in the hide-a-bed of a strangers truck was the closest thing to peace she had experienced all day........ she closed her eyes and instantly drifted right,, back,, to sleep… the 10 or more beers she had drank earlier in the evening making this given…

she awoke with a start some time soon after.. he was sitting on her chest... the fat, bald, truck driver... the one that had offered to take her as far as memphis... he was sitting on her chest,, holding her arms at her sides with his legs,, and he was pushing his short, fat, soft, glow in the dark white dick in her mouth… this wasn’t happening….

 “suck it baby.. come on,,go on now,,, take it ,,,"

 she did…

 what else could she do.... he was sitting on her chest… she sucked him..

tears of utter frustration made their way out of the little slits in the huge purple swellings that surrounded both eyes… she and miguel had been drinking earlier in the night,, he started the whole "whore" thing again.. she fought back..  she was no match for him when he was hammered… he blackened both her eyes and broke her nose.. she ran into the night and hopped in the first ride that pulled over to let her in…

this guy… this trucker.. the one that had his dick in her mouth.. the one that was straddling her chest, restraining her arms with his legs,, the one that had the forethought to wash himself off with some kind of baby wipes,, she could smell them and taste them as he sat on her,, stuffing his dick,, in her mouth,, saying .. “there you go girl ,, that’s right,, you know oh,, yeah…..”

 

luckily for him,, he came quickly… lucky for her he had no other intentions.. when he was done,, he was done..he wanted her out of the truck…she would have stayed...she had no where to go...it was dark..

the sun hadn’t quite broke the horizon.. as she headed off toward what she assumed was the highway...she thought she saw a building up ahead…. maybe there would be a phone… who would she call??

he drove away before she had a chance to really think about what had happened…she cried, silent tears,, no sound.. no feeling..  just there..

the filling station was old and closed.. boarded windows.. no pumps.. no phone.. no nothing.. she was nowhere.. at least she had no clue where she was .. what direction he had really been driving.. how far from dallas she really was...

she was too drunk to notice before.. she had asked him if he would mind if she laid down.. it had been such a bad night,, she just wanted to lay down.. to pass out .. to make it all go away…she thought he felt sorry for her.. she thought when he actually saw her black and blue and bloody,,, and crying.. she thought he understood...


she thought he was telling the truth when he said he'd take her as far as memphis.. she could find her way to michigan from there.. to her mom.. she wanted her mom.. she wanted to go home...she laid down,, thinking that when she woke,, she would be half way there...

but... here she was... on a dark stretch of highway. somewhere in texas... walking in the middle of the road, as there wasn't a car coming in either direction.. she wouldn't have had the balls to stick her thumb out ,, if there had been one....

 
she walked… alone… first in the dark.. then in the itty bitty glow,, of the sun breaking over the flat texas horizon... the sky dark, and gray, and mournful…

she walked.. the highway was desolate.. she couldn’t fathom getting a ride.. not once it got light and people could see her,, could see the blue black of her disfigured  face… see the blood all over her shirt, her jeans.. probably her face… where it hadn’t been washed away by the tears she didn't even really know she had been crying..

she walked, alone, into the sunrise.. and screamed at the top of her voice,,, into the nothingness… “ i quit.. i quit!!! you win.. you win!!! alright,, you win!!!!!!”

 

blue

This is how you form the cinquain:

Line 1: 2 syllables
Line 2: 4 syllables
Line 3: 6 syllables
Line 4: 8 syllables
Line 5: 2 syllables


without
shimmering shades
of blue, your eyes would not
sparkle, nor would my soul have wings
your eyes

until
i understand
that to you, love is pain,
my reflection shows me your love
black blue

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Gray
Fathom
Memphis

*****************************************************************************

this is a continuation of a story i started last week you can find it here.....

chapter 2

flashback

june 23, 1995

 

she could hear the truck down shifting to a stop.. it had been such an awful day,, sleeping here in the hide-a-bed of a strangers truck was the closest thing to peace she had experienced all day........ she closed her eyes and instantly drifted right,, back,, to sleep… the 10 or more beers she had drank earlier in the evening making this given…

she awoke with a start some time soon after.. he was sitting on her chest... the fat, bald, truck driver... the one that had offered to take her as far as memphis... he was sitting on her chest,, holding her arms at her sides with his legs,, and he was pushing his short, fat, soft, glow in the dark white dick in her mouth… this wasn’t happening….

 “suck it baby.. come on,,go on now,,, take it ,,,"

 she did…

 what else could she do.... he was sitting on her chest… she sucked him..

tears of utter frustration made their way out of the little slits in the huge purple swellings that surrounded both eyes… she and miguel had been drinking earlier in the night,, he started the whole "whore" thing again.. she fought back..  she was no match for him when he was hammered… he blackened both her eyes and broke her nose.. she ran into the night and hopped in the first ride that pulled over to let her in…

this guy… this trucker.. the one that had his dick in her mouth.. the one that was straddling her chest, restraining her arms with his legs,, the one that had the forethought to wash himself off with some kind of baby wipes,, she could smell them and taste them as he sat on her,, stuffing his dick,, in her mouth,, saying .. “there you go girl ,, that’s right,, you know oh,, yeah…..”

 

luckily for him,, he came quickly… lucky for her he had no other intentions.. when he was done,, he was done..he wanted her out of the truck…she would have stayed...she had no where to go...it was dark..

the sun hadn’t quite broke the horizon.. as she headed off toward what she assumed was the highway...she thought she saw a building up ahead…. maybe there would be a phone… who would she call??

he drove away before she had a chance to really think about what had happened…she cried, silent tears,, no sound.. no feeling..  just there..

the filling station was old and closed.. boarded windows.. no pumps.. no phone.. no nothing.. she was nowhere.. at least she had no clue where she was .. what direction he had really been driving.. how far from dallas she really was...

she was too drunk to notice before.. she had asked him if he would mind if she laid down.. it had been such a bad night,, she just wanted to lay down.. to pass out .. to make it all go away…she thought he felt sorry for her.. she thought when he actually saw her black and blue and bloody,,, and crying.. she thought he understood...

she thought he was telling the truth when he said he'd take her as far as memphis.. she could find her way to michigan from there.. to her mom.. she wanted her mom.. she wanted to go home...she laid down,, thinking that when she woke,, she would be half way there... 

but... here she was... on a dark stretch of highway. somewhere in texas... walking in the middle of the road, as there wasn't a car coming in either direction.. she wouldn't have had the balls to stick her thumb out ,, if there had been one....

 
she walked… alone… first in the dark.. then in the itty bitty glow,, of the sun breaking over the flat texas horizon... the sky dark, and gray, and mournful…

she walked.. the highway was desolate.. she couldn’t fathom getting a ride.. not once it got light and people could see her,, could see the blue black of her disfigured  face… see the blood all over her shirt, her jeans.. probably her face… where it hadn’t been washed away by the tears she didn't even really know she had been crying..

she walked, alone, into the sunrise.. and screamed at the top of her voice,,, into the nothingness… “ i quit.. i quit!!! you win.. you win!!! alright,, you win!!!!!!”

 

death is for the living
for the dead they do not cry
they are not here to mourn themselves
they already know why

death is for the living
allowing us time to mourn and mend
the fences and the memories
of those gone before us,, to the end

death is for the living
but don't let it take you that long
to tell someone you love them
even if they've known it all along


*****************************************

it feels as if you've been snatched away
to quickly,, much to young
before you had the time to live
before your song was sung

it seems as if the time we had
was way to short,, and then
i realize you've just gone home
and i'll be seeing you again...

when my time comes, i wont be afraid
'cause i know you're waiting there
to catch up on all the time we missed
in this little room downstairs

we'll talk, and laugh, and reminisce
we'll share memories, and whats more
we'll have forever to learn the things
we should have known before

i might be slow in coming
but i know that you will wait
to greet me,, arms wide open
when we meet, at heavens gate

we are a bouquet of contradictions,
held together by two hands..
we all need,, and want,, and feel,,
tho’ we may hail from far away lands…

you are there,, and i am here,,
each of us,, in our own little shells…
basking in our own triumphs..
enduring our own personal hells..

yet, all the time i have spent staring,,
into your world,, from mine,,
has made me feel whole again
i have found my own way to shine…

we are a bouquet of contradictions,,
yes, i know that it is true..
because it is so much better being me,,
now that i have found myself, in you..

last month, on one of the  blogs that i read regularly,, the blogger asked his readers to submit ideas, with the intention of incorporating all of them in to a short story, of approximately 5000 words,, ( i came in close at 5948) i though this was a real challenge,, and so i have gone ahead taken the original prompts and added my own setting,, and tried my best to produce something that holds together and serves to entertain....:

the ideas submitted by the readers were:

1. A person called the wrong name with significant results,
2. A dream fulfilled turned into a nightmare realized,
3. A mystery, and
4. A creepy animal.

and i added the idea of working with the characters set up in the 80's tv series, friday the thirteenth.. the series:

Friday the 13th: The Series
Aired: 1987 - 1990
Show Type: Live Action
Country of Origin: US
Show Summary: This show had nothing to do with the movies. An old antique dealer sold cursed antiques. When he dies his nephew and niece take ownership of the shop. They realize the antiques were cursed so they set out to get these artifacts back.


for those of you old enough to remember the show and the way it was presented....... i thought  that this scenario opened the door for a more accepting viewpoint, on the part of the main characters,, of the strange series of events as they unfurl,, than perhaps you or i would have....

without further ado.... my first full length short story......

my cousin ryan and i had spent the last three years of our lives trying to clean up the mess our dear,  departed uncle lewis left us, when we inherited his cursed antique store, curious goods... we had some narrow escapes as well as some really harrowing experiences, as we collected  all the cursed items that were listed in the sales log, as well as a few that surfaced unknowingly along the way..  to say the least, when the search for the items was completed,, and the shop successfully returned to the ashes that we will all someday become ... the last thing on my mind was a further foray into the paranormal...

instead, i had visions of solitude, and lonely hours,,, spent in front of the computer,, alone with my thoughts,, composing poetry and prose, fiction and non... a simple, quiet life.. i felt it was so richly deserved,, and all i really wanted....

i found this little ramshackle house,  in the canyon, quite by accident, and as it is isolated,, but not so far away that one cant get anywhere from there in a reasonable amount of time... it was with high hopes and overflowing dreams that i moved in and started to work on the millions of little things that had been neglected by the previous owner.. oscar, he was a dear of a man, they say,  but at 103 years of age,, it had just gotten so out of his control to maintain the house and the six surrounding acres that when he passed away, here, on the floor of my bedroom, that his only son, ben,  had with much regret decided to let it go...

it was all about me having been at the right place at the right time,, and bumping into the right people... as the house really wasn’t on the market,, but the thought was there.. that in combination with my vivid explanation of what i was looking for,,, and my good fortune to hook up with a real estate man that was in fact a personal friend of bens,, that brought me here,, to this house today...

i had met oscar’s only son ben, at a local diner,, one day as i was out here,, really just to look and dream, as i knew better than to even think that i could ever afford to own anything.. the recent slump in the market, had created quite a glut of properties for sale,,, but the pricing was out of control,, and certainly out of reach,, with a budget such as my own....

i had seen ben there, several times, his long gray hair flowing out from under a black safari style hat... his ever present overalls, making me wonder if he was an old local eccentric,, or just an ordinary homeless man.... i tended to believe the eccentric idea, as he always ate and drank heartily, and seemed to tip the waitress well...

alas, we had finally struck up a conversation, one morning, when the waitress was reciting him the specials,, and he asked what it was i was having.... a greek fetta and kalamata olive omelet, complete with the spinach and the beets... oh it was so delicious,, and evidently presented itself nicely, as ben ordered one for himself as well....

we talked about food, and the local clientele.. the smug attitude of the waitress, and the simple decor by which we were surrounded... i told him i had always dreamed of living out here,, how i loved the small town feel and the quaint hominess i always felt when i was here...he on the other hand,  having been born and raised had spent an equal amount of time trying to stay away,, to many memories, i would have to guess bad ones, from the forlorn look that overtook him when he went quiet, and pensive... mid sentence...

as i stood to leave, i introduced myself and shook his hand,, "well so long nicky,, it was a pleasure to meet you...." he responded... my name was micki, not nicky,, but i didn’t feel it was necessary to correct him, as the chances we'd meet again were between slim and none....

a week or two later, i had an appointment with a real estate broker in a small storefront office in town, i wanted to look at a modestly priced "fixer" that i had seen listed on the MLS on line... joe, the real estate man, had informed me that when the ad said fixer, it meant it,, but it was the only thing even close to my price range, and looking was a good way to quell my desire,, if nothing else.... if it was really a dump,, for that kind of money,, maybe i could forget about this place all together,, and finally move on... to a property somewhere i could actually afford....

as joe and i exchanged niceties, and he collected his paperwork, i saw a familiar face entering the door, it was ben...

"nicky!!", he exclaimed,, "what a pleasure... still looking i see.."

"yes, i don’t think this is the house of my dreams, but i thought i better look or forever wonder what if...."

"well i see you've found the best real estate mind in all of west marin, my friend joe here... i drop in from time to time and leave off some pieces i think may be of interest and just generally check up on the boys here" and he held out a grocery bag full of fliers and real estate magazines to joe....

joe, graciously accepted, and put them on the floor right behind his paper filled desk....i could have sworn i saw him roll his eye, but when he stood up and faced us,, his smile was as bright and cheerful as it had been when i first entered the door....

" i was just about to take micki here over to see the old haskell house, over on drake view.. the cottage in the back has been rezoned. and it is available, and seems to fit her needs, small and fixable,, and right in her price range..."

we said our farewells, and joe and i were off....

as i had indeed suspected, the old cabin was rustic and forlorn. it needed way more work than i could ever do by myself, and the tradesman’s wages out here were as high as the home prices,, so i knew in all reality,, it was not the property for me....

as we approached the real estate storefront office, joe dropped me at my car, and i noticed ben was just heading out,, and was walking in his slow distinct stride right toward me....

"well,, what did you think??" he asked, with a smile and a sincerely interested expression on his face...

"well as much as i would love to be able to say i have found her... i have not... to much work there,, and too much money  for me... under those circumstances..."

"you know nicky, i was thinking, why don’t you have a look at my dads place, he passed away a few years back, and tho’ i haven’t had the heart to sell it,, the time has come for me to look at  it as a real possibility... its small and a bit over run,, but it might suit your need, and who knows... the price might be just right...."


the property was not far, and since he was on foot, he graciously accepted the ride in my jeep, and guided me thru town and down into the bottom of the canyon just beyond..

the property itself was severely overgrown, as no one had lived there in what i was to find out was nearing 12 years.. the house wasn’t old tho’, built in the late seventies, as the original house had burnt to the ground, disgruntled tenants, or some such malady, so ben said...

there is no way i could have prepared myself for what would greet us as we stepped inside the door that first time...the house was stacked top to bottom with wine bottles and refuse, stack after stack of empty tins and news papers, old magazines and books, old molded linens and piles of clothes,, there was barely enough room to walk thru, let alone get a picture of the space, where it devoid of all of this accumulation....

his father and his second wife, had built this house in their advanced years, and it was evident that simplicity in maintenance had played a huge part in their decorating decisions....everything was smooth and dark, simple to maintain, and impossible to ruin with just daily wear and tear. there was no carpet, rather the entire house was floored in old gold pattern linoleum, accept the bedroom floor which was a newer looking flat white style of linoleum...

as we looked around and i said repeatedly to myself, "oh heavens no"... ben went on to explain that the property had been in the family for over 100 years... and he owned it by default, as a result of his fathers death, and he really was no longer in the position to care for it,, in fact he rarely ever came here anymore,, and it had become somewhat a thorn in his side....

he continued to speak,, talking about the fact that he was advancing in years, and soon wouldn’t be able to drive the hour down here to even pick up the mail, let alone keep track of the repairs the house needed...... but my mind had long since wandered of in it's own direction...

i wasn’t really listening to him,, i was thinking and feeling something strange.. my mind was saying "no,, no,, no,," but at the same time,, my minds eye was seeing me here,, inside this house,, and feeling as if this was indeed my home....

"nicky... nicky???" ben called me out of my wanderings.  "would you like to take a look around the property??"

"oh yes,,, yes i would.." i said, sounding somewhat startled awake,, but ben didn’t seem to notice...

we walked and talked and looked and all the while i had the distinct feeling that i was meant to be here,, i felt so empowered just walking around.. i had visions of this planted here, and that cut back over there,, and i found myself wondering about how i would fit all my belongings into 800 small square feet.... not really seeing or hearing his step by step dissertation along the way....


we conclude our tour, and i gave ben my number, saying that if indeed he did decide to sell, give me a call, and let me know what he would be asking for it.. and we could go from there...

"yes, yes i will nicky.. i'll..."

i interrupted him, as i thought it was necessary that if we were going to have further meetings and perhaps even business dealings with each other,, he ought to at least know my correct name. "micki, my name is micki,, with an "m"...but of course i’ve been known to answer to just about anything....."

"oh, i’m sorry,, i'll remember that micki, yes indeed. micki, with an "m".. i see...." ben looked as if he had taken a mental note.. we shook hands and i was on my way.....

just about a month had  passed and i had long since stopped envisioning myself in that house, it had appeared several times in my dreams,, but i was fortunate enough to barely remember the text of the dreams after i woke... in fact, when the phone rang, and it was ben, i was more than a little taken aback.

i must say i was thrilled, yet surprised to hear from ben.. he said he had indeed decided to let the house go, and he’d like to get together with me and discuss the terms over lunch.. we could meet at the diner where we had first been introduced,, friday, this friday the thirteenth,, his treat of course .... what could i do but agree???

"ok then nicky,,, i'll see you then..." he said with a lilt of fun in his voice, the sound reminiscent of having secured a date with a lovely blonde from 8th grade home room..

and as we hung up, i made a conscious choice not to correct him on the name thing again.. it seemed irrelevant,, and he was such a dear man, i didn’t want to further embarrass him, by pointing it out.....

we met that friday, as planned, and he explained to me that he was lucky enough to owe nothing but annual taxes on the property, and that since they had been settled years ago,, they were less than most places would rent for  a month.. he didn’t seek to make a profit, as he had plenty of money and no desire to spend it... in fact his accumulation of wealth had become somewhat of a source of discomfort, and a burden, and he had no desire to add to that..

he said that the arrangement he had in mind, wasn’t so much a sales agreement,, but an inheritance, a revocable trust, he would leave the house to charity, but it would be on the contingency that i was allowed to live there for the remainder of my natural life,, or until i decided to vacate the property.. i could live in it for as long as i so chose,, but i wouldn’t be able to sell it, as upon my death, or decision to vacate the property, it would revert to the charity he was essentially leaving it to...

i had never heard of such an arrangement, and although i must say i was intrigued, and wanted so much to just throw caution to the wind,, i said i would research it and see what it was and how it would effect us, and then get back to him.... they say if anything sounds too good to be true,, it usually was,, and my own life experience had taught me,, they were usually right.....

i did research the revocable trust of which he spoke, and could find nothing but benefit for both of us. he was able to take the write off for the "purchase" price of the house, as it was being relinquished to charity, and i would owe nothing, save the annual taxes, insurance and utility payments... of course all the maintenance and upkeep would fall under the category of my responsibility,, but since there would be no mortgage, i saw  no reason why if i had a job, of any sort, even a lowly service position, that i would not be able to keep the house and acreage in full repair at all times...

this whole thing was indeed to good to be true.. in essence he was giving me a house,, for nothing....

we met yet again on a friday, at the same diner, and i accepted his so generous and gracious offer....we hugged to seal the deal,, and i left there wondering what i had ever done to have the gods bestow such favor upon me...

from that moment forward, my mind was consumed with the house, the cleaning, the unloading of all the junk that had accumulated over the years, working on digging my way through the over growth that had long since given up being landscaping... there was much to be done,, and i took off at top speed, i was filled with the feeling that at last, i was being blessed, at last i could be whoever it was i was meant to be,, and it was all because of ben ,, and this house,, that i had in fact found my good fortune and hit my stride... filled with gratitude, i worked diligently at renovating the "midden" it had become,, and uncovering the house, as it would be when i was its mistress....

my hard work paid off, and soon i was having the utilities transferred into my name. the electricity was already on,, and the cable/isp provider was scheduled for the day after i moved in.

the day i actually moved in all i really had to do, was unload everything into the house,, and  set up the bed... i never, if at all possible, slept in the dark, or without the television on,, but i was so tired as a result of all the days activities, i never gave it a second thought as i climbed over the to be unpacked boxes, and into my softie, feather bed, in my new home....

i was awakened by a knocking sound sometime mid-night, but i had no clock to check the time,, and it had ceased so i went right back to sleep,, and was not to awaken again till the sun came in through the bedroom window....

as the days wore on i was interrupted every night by the same knocking sound, it was as if something was set into motion,, and was rocking back and forth trying to find its footing..

i never saw anything moving,, and i must say due to the fact that the house had stood idle for so long,, i attributed it to field mice or pack rats or something equally despicable..i searched craigs list,, and sought out the company of two  "barn" cats,, to help me keep any further infestation at bay... i never saw the rodents,, but i was sure if they were there,, the cats would indeed find them and either run them out,, or best case scenario,, kill them dead.....

the first night i had the cats in the house,, as the knocking started the cats began to screech as if someone or something was in fact stepping on their tails simultaneously,,  they ran circles and climbed the furniture,, and the drapes,, seeking exit, and i could not open the door fast enough as they flew out into the dark of night....the sound stopped as soon as i got out of bed.. but if it was indeed rodents,, i had the 2 most shameful excuses for felines that had ever walked the face of the earth.... i looked around, found nothing out of order, returned to bed, but was unable to resume my sleep...

instead i sat,, coffee in hand,, in front of the glowing monitor reading the daily news, it was then i felt as if a wisp of cool air had in fact blown across the back of my neck.. no window was open and i know both exit doors were closed... but i felt compelled to check, as it just felt wrong.... i had had this feeling before,, and the fact that something "out of this world" may be to blame, for the noises and the ill feelings at this point became very real in my mind....

when i came back to the computer.. the screen was blank save the words "welcome home nicky", printed on the otherwise black screen... i shook my mouse, and sure enough they disappeared immediately and “the chronicle” site i was looking at before i had gone to check the doors was back up, and seemingly normal... i closed all the windows,, one by one,, in hopes to get the black screen back,, as at this point i was beginning to question whether or not it had really ever been there at all...  it was no where to be found... 

i checked the mantel clock, it was 4 am..i couldn’t do anything,, but wait with baited breath for the sun to rise, and try and shrug off the feeling of total dis-ease that enveloped me, as i sat there alone in the dark...i was familiar with this feeling,, i had had it before,, but then i had known it was due to the evil possession that was imbued in the antiques we were seeking to retrieve,, and now i couldn’t put my finger on the source, and very honestly, felt to afraid to look into it any further,, alone...

as soon as the light of day was upon me, i called ryan.. after i apologized profusely for waking him out of a sound sleep,,.. i explained that in all certainty i felt the recent goings on were rooted in the paranormal,,, and i would need his help in resolving it. he said he would be as soon as he could put his affairs in order and we would make a full  investigation, and see if together,, we couldn’t get to the bottom of this...

in our numerous encounters with the beyond, while we were seeking out the return of the cursed antiques from uncle lewis' shop, ryan had always been the level head, and i awaited his arrival, quite impatiently...

he arrived, shortly before noon, and with him he brought some of the  recording devices and monitors, that we had used in our searches, as well as best buddy,, his dog jake. a slobbery, albeit loving black lab... jake immediately caught a whiff of the cats, and the chase was on.. he disappeared in a flash,, and was unfettered by ryans calls to come... like a shot he was off after the cats, and into the creek,, and out of sight....

ryan came in and did a full survey of the house, and then together we searched the vast acreage that surrounded it.. nothing seemed to be noticeably in question,, and nothing looked any different than it ever had before,, so we decided to settle in, have a little something to eat... and wait......

as dusk set in,, jake had still not returned.  the light beginning to fade, and there was no response what so ever to ryans repeated calls... reluctantly, we decided to call it a night,, and hope that ryans best friend and constant companion would indeed find his own scent and make it back to us on his own..

we lit a fire and snuggled in for the night, me afraid to go to bed, and ryan full of anticipation for yet another sighting, or more accurately hearing... but nothing...not a sound... we talked and enjoyed the silence and the crackling of the fire,, and we evidently drifted off into a contented sleep ,, there before the fire,, only to be awakened abruptly, by barking at the front  door....jake had alas found his way back up the relative safety of my little house in the canyon........

ryan went immediately to the door to welcome his best friend,, and i sat a little bleary eyed in my chair...

"well, who have we here??" i heard ryan saying..." you look a little worse for the wear there boy,, or is it girl???... hey jakes made a friend.. mind if ..."before he could finish his sentance,, i could hear the dogs pushing their way past him and rushing into the house...

"no sure" was the best i could muster... until i saw her, him, it whatever ... the mangiest, matted, wet smelly, excuse for a dog i had ever seen.. " holy cow, jake... you sure know how to pick 'em!! Couldn’t you have at least found a friend who had had a bath this year... hey you get off my chair....." but it was to no avail,, the mangy mutt had already jumped up in the warm spot  ryan had made in the brown leather recliner,, and was settling in.....

"so that’s where you been,, huh boy... out carousing making friends... is this a little lady friend?? guess we'll have to wait till she gets up to find out for sure huh"... said ryan as he patted and hugged jake,, it was obvious that he was more than relived that his dog had returned safely...

"i'm gonna leave you boys ... a girls uh whatever you all are,, and get into bed for a few... ryan, the makings of a nice bed are on the couch for you if you decide to lay down " i said pointing to the pillows and feather comforter i had laid out....

"nighty, night you three... see you in the a.m....." and i trailed off away from the three of them,,  the smell that was emanating from our new found friend following close behind.....

no sooner did i make a cozy warm spot in my bed,, did i hear the clickety clack of tiny toenails on the linoleum floor,, and my stinky little friend appeared in the door way... "uh huh... no way ... you are not getting in my bed..  i'll have to delouse the chair as it is... go,, get outta here..." i said immediately sitting up ready to have to defend my space if necessary....

it seemed as if it wasn’t the bed at all our new friend was interested in.. it was the closet... a mouser dog??  was i possible that jake had indeed brought home "hilda the great matted hunter" to help me with the mysterious noises that were emanating from the closet??? i sat up and watched as the dog walked directly to the corner of the closet from which the sounds had been emanating,, and lay down.  there was a little whimper accompanied by some scratching on the floor boards before the mystery dog laid down its head,, and evidently fell right into a very contented sleep.....

i lay down feeling confidant that i would not in fact have to defend my place in my own bed,, and i guess i too,,  eventually fell asleep...

morning came, and my mysterious friend was still rolled up in a cozy ball in the corner of the closet,, so i wandered into the living room to find ryan asleep upright in the chair, jake at his feet... i started the coffee maker and went into the bathroom to check on the bed head situation and have a morning pee....

it was then that i heard it... a howling,, no a wailing almost coming from the closet...

"quiet..you’ll wake the dead with that noise!!!" i said in a louder than indoor voice to the mystery dog in the closet... and proceeded to hurry myself along and get in there to find out what all the fuss was about... as i looked in the door,, i was in no way prepared for what i saw.. the mystery dog was on the bed, shaking with fright,, and the moaning, the howling the what ever it was was coming out of the floor..."ryan!!!!" i screamed in near panic..."Ryan c'mere hurry!!!!"

i heard what could have only been the flailing of arms and legs and the quick patter of paws and in an instant ryan and jake joined me at the bedroom door... the low moaning sound did not subside,, the floor boards proceeded to  creak as if whatever was hiding beneath them was was exhorting extreme pressure on them,, i was afraid they might give way and what ever it was would come bursting through the floor,, with a vengeance... and then,, as if it had never happened at all.. the noises stopped,, the room grew quiet,, and both dogs started barking as if they had indeed,, seen a ghost.....

"holy shit" was all ryan had to say..."h o l y shit..."

i was in shock.. i couldn’t think,, let alone say anything....

ryan started pacing... "ok,, ok,, ok ... now what we have to do first i would say, is remove the floor boards,, you don’t have a problem with that do you???  i,,, let me see.. i'll need a claw hammer and a"... his voice trailed off as he left me standing there alone,, unable to move...

i shook my head as if it would help to shake the scene from my mind,, "the woodshed," i said, "i have all my tools in the wood shed...." was the best attempt i could make at conversation...

when ryan stepped out the front door,  both dogs left off barking and the pawing at the floor and quickly made their escape out the open door...

in the peace and quiet that followed i re-ran the whole scenario in my mind.... somehow when it was happening in your own bedroom it was much different than when you went looking for it in someone else’s world...

it was about that time ryan reappeared with a hammer a chisel and a shovel and headed for the closet...

"are you sure you are up to this??",,  i asked as i followed him through the bedroom to the opened closet door..

"sure i'm sure... it has to be in there,, whatever it is, it has to be in there,, right here,, right where the dogs were scratching.." he was lifting the doors out of the runners as he spoke, and laying them against the wall... "help me get all this stuff out of the way.." he stated matter of factly, and it kind of made me aware that i was indeed a participant in all of this and better get to my participating right away.....

i grabbed an armload of clothes off the rack as ryan began clearing the floor of the laundry baskets and half full boxes full of things i had yet to find a place for.. together we emptied the closet in record time,, and ryan began tapping around on the floor,, looking for the most viable starting point...

having evidently located it,, although to me it all sounded equally as dense no matter where he tapped it,, he put the chisel to the floor,, drew back with the hammer and said,, " here goes nothing..."

with a powerful blow he hit the head of the chisel and penetrated the floor, as he drew back to hit it yet again,, the howling started in earnest,, but this time there was not only noise emanating from the floor but a thick  putrid smelling fog began to seep from the hole ryan had put in the floor.. ryan and i, gasping for breath stepped back.. we retreated to the door way and watched,, unprepared for the scenario that was to unfold before our very eyes....

the fog seeped out and slowly crept its way across the floor,, and as it made its escape,, the howling sound lessened to a hurtful moan,, and the floor boards themselves began to rattle.. something indeed was set to emerge.. but what,, and how,, and why???

with the passage of time,, i have no idea how much as i was too dumbfounded to look at my watch,, the moaning slowed to a whisper,, the emanating fog dissipated into the air, leaving behind only  the rancid, rotting smell, that could only be described as death warmed over,,, to validiate it's ever having been there... ryan and i stood transfixed in the doorway.. no one speaking,, no one moving.. barely breathing...as if time had very swiftly ceased to exist.....

finally,, ryan spoke." i have to lift it up,, i have to see what is under there,, i cant say we'll ever know who or what that was that escaped,, but i think it is safe to say it is gone now... here ,, hold this,," he said as he handed me the hammer that was still clenched in his hand... he walked out the door,, only to return momentarily with a pick ax..

he took the blunted side of the pick ax and hit the chisel hard, the floor boards creaked and shuddered with his mighty blow.. he then turned it over and used the pick side to lift the floor board, then another , then another,,, " oh my god".. was all he had to say..

i rushed to his side,, and there before us was a virtual cornucopia of human bones,, no rhyme or reason,, no actual skeletal remain,, but bones piled on top of bones on top of bones.....we looked at each other, each as if already knowing what the other was thinking,, and exited the room closed the door and with out any deliberation, i watched, still in a stupor of utter and complete disbelief,, as ryan lifted the receiver and dialed 9-1-1....

appended conclusion:

it has been months since then, ten months to be exact... the investigation is still ongoing,, but all the evidence has been painstakingly removed,, along with the floor of the entire house..

i have since moved on, to a little furnished studio in the city i can actually afford,, taking with me only my personal items,, as the majority of my belongings are subject to the on going investigation....

it seems as tho’ oscar, dear man that he was, had a penchant for picking up down on their luck hitchhikers, and the like,, who he happened upon on this lonely curvy section of route 1.. he evidently brought them home to have a little tea and conversation,, and ultimately a little arsenic laced wine, or rat poison pate, or something of the like,, and putting an end to their run of bad luck. once. and. for. all....

ben, his only son was privy to oscars little eccentricity,, and felt he was bound by family honor to never reveal his fathers secret to anyone... thus,, when he met me,, and was able to put me in the house,, he was able to rid himself of the sanctuary of torment he knew the house to be,  without ever having to under go any legalities or formalities such as an inspection,, that would have in fact been a part of any purchase agreement...

ben has since taken up residence in the redwood empire home for the criminally insane,, as the majority of the evidence seems to point to him as being the one that actually did the dismembering,, in a sincere act of love for his father, and desire to protect his oscar from ever being found out....

and me??? well... ryan and i never saw any reason to bring the paranormal into this whole mess, so we have kept that little gem to ourselves... but i cannot help but wonder,, which one of the poor tortured souls that oscar killed and ben dismembered and left to be forever forgotten under the newer flat white linoleum on the bedroom floor, came to the ultimate rescue of all of them?? which one of them was it that found their way out of the eternal nothingness that i truly believe death to be,, and made it their mission to contact us, hell,, maybe even orchestrated my whole move into that house in the first place??? and why,, oh why,, when they made that unexplainable, yet thoroughly amazing attempt to make their presence known by typing a message to me on my computer screen,,, did they too think, my name was nicky?????

i guess i will never know...

but i do come away from all of this knowing one thing for sure... next time,, if there ever is one,, that I am faced with something that sounds way to good to be true… no matter how much i want it,, no matter how closely it resembles my hearts desire.. i am going to run,, not walk,, in the other direction…..

oh, and in case you are wondering the mystery dog cleaned up well.. turns out she was some kind of a labby/setter type mix,, that had evidently belonged to an old man up the road,, that had long since up and disappeared.. they say he just moved away in the middle of the night,, leaving everything and his beloved dog behind... if truth be told,, i think he found his way under the bedroom floor,, with a little help from dear oscar of course... but i guess we'll never know for sure...…

despite the fact that she had a rough first few days with me,, and suffered greatly from separation anxiety,, she has, in the short time we have spent together, learned to trust me,, and taken her place in my heart,, and yes,,, in my bed.. i call her misty,,, but she will always be the mystery dog to me....

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if you have indeed made it this far, i would greatly appreciate any creative criticism that you could offer, by way of the comments.. thank you for reading....

the first two installments of my story “silence” are among the “fresh from the garden” entries on world catalyst fledgling ezine, fruits of the creative garden , for the month of august.

this is my first “published” work,, and you will notice that they made a point of stating that my work is “unedited prose”, as i was adamant that my words be reproduced exactly as i wrote them..

whereas,, i feel that this will forever remain a stipulation of mine,, and will more than likely prohibit me from ever really becoming a “published author”,, i have to feel proud when i see my words,, sans capitals,, and yes,, with my exceedingly aggressive use of punctuation,,,, published along side some of the extremely talented writers, poets, artists and photographers, who grace this months issue…..

i would like to make a special thank you to shirley allard, the publisher of world catalyst, for understanding the importance, if only to me, of reproducing my work in exactly the same rhyming prose fashion that i envision it…..

if only for today, i am proud to be, of the common garden variety!!!!!

this is an ongoing story... as i publish new sections,, they will be added to the story in its entirety here....