Hello my friends. I see the year is almost finished and I can honestly confess I am glad. I look forward to a few new beginnings and some VERY happy endings.


I am sorry I've neglected this.  I've thought of it and you so often, but I simply haven't had the heart to sit down and put "pen to paper" so to speak.  These last several weeks have found me more challenged, sad and angry than I have been in a long time. It's stunted my desire to even write; how unfortunate.


The upside? Well this is my weekend to shine.  I will have about thirty for our annual New Year's Eve blowout.  It's hard to believe we have done this for almost twenty years.  I am giddy to be surrounded by all my Yaya's and "Lakers".  I need this now more than ever. Selfish? Perhaps. But for wanting that, I will not apologize. For sharing it, I have no regret. My heart is beating just a little harder; warmer. All things considered, it feels good.


So travel well. Be safe.  When the ball drops and Dick Clark mumbles Happy New Year, know there will be fireworks abound up at Promises. This new year will be filled with that: Promises.


Save me a kiss at that magic hour and know I can't wait to share better, more spirited, creative time with you all.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

The June wedding

She loved him more than she knew was possible. He occupied most moments in her day. The mere thought of his touch sent a frenzy of chills scurrying under her frock. When Silas North glanced her way, she simply melted.  Adoration wasn't the word but it was close. She stole away each afternoon to watch him practice his craft, fascinated and mesmerized by his abilities. To watch him, left her heart pounding; fear for his safety lost to the adrenaline rush of seeing him succeed. He was invincible.  Of course, she was not supposed to or permitted to become involved with him.  She had been promised to another.  Her marriage was going to benefit her family, giving them, at last, the stability and credibility that her parents had craved for most of their lives.  That was understandable, after all, they were simple carnies; considered by most to be freaks and gypsies. But at last they had settled in this small Missouri town, proceeded to grow a decent tailoring business and exotic sundry store and Leta had done them the favor of capturing the eye of Frederick Dowling, Doc Harvey's son. Things would improve in leaps and bounds after their June wedding.  But this was March, and now, Leta was enamoured by the sleek, strong, dark mystery that surrounded the trapeze artist in the visiting circus. His blond hair hung carelessly around his face; matching the attitude he seemed to carry for each town he visited. But Silas had noticed her of course; the lovely girl who came to all of his practices and most shows.  


Her hair was as dark as midnight, spilling in thick robust curls around pale skin and easily blushing cheeks.  Her eyes were of a rare brilliant green that sparkled like gems when she laughed, which was most often. She was healthy, strong, and talented.  With her parents being of such an ambiguous background; they usually called themselves "nomadic merchants", Leta had learned many things while spending her first fourteen years on the road.  She sang beautifully, could read some and was quite the handy mistress with a needle.  She was outspoken and pleasant; though not bold or impolite.  Leta would be the perfect socialite wife for Frederick who was shy and if permitted, reclusive.  Once Frederick came to call upon Leta's family after he'd seen her at church, her family had fanned the flames to ignite this beneficial romance.  It wasn't that Leta didn't like Frederick. She just couldn't love him more than Silas.


The last week of the circus crept up on them quietly. Silas would miss her delicate face in the crowd. Leta knew she would spend the rest of her nights thinking of him, waiting for the haunting whistle and the grumble of exotic lions and animals that would signal his return and for a short while, her happiness.  It was his last Saturday when he did more than smile and wave to her. He spoke and encouraged her to come again.  Which she did.  He then was brazen enough to take the time to speak with her during one of his rehearsals.  Her knees trembled and the rose in her cheeks bloomed with flourish.  He touched her gloved hand and asked her to wish him luck with his new trick.  His partner Billy would be pulled up and  swing on an opposite trapeze.  The two men would swing toward each other and then Silas would let go. ( LET GO! she marveled)  Billy would catch him.  It was death defying and Leta could barely keep her eyes open to see him. But when Silas showed her the practice harnesses, she sighed a little, clapped then swooned over his bravery.  All seemed to go well until the link twisted loose.  The cable didn't catch enough so when Silas let go of his trapeze, he was not far enough into his swing to reach Billy.  Billy grabbed anyway, their hands stumbled through the air to find each other, grab and save each other.  


Leta screamed as the man of her dreams crumbled to the ground fluffing sawdust with a sickening "whump"  The young girl ran to him, tears brimming like diamonds near her emerald eyes.  She spoke softly to Silas, begging him to listen to her, hold her hand; to keep her heart.  He did not respond. The medical assistants came and took him  to Frederick's father.  Doc Harvey and Frederick would be able to fix him if there was any fixing to be done.  Leta followed and waited.  It was past time for her to be home, but she just couldn't bring herself to walk away.  Instead she begged, pleaded and at last she made a deal with the Almighty.  


"I'll never see him again if you let him live."


Her father came to get her and take her home.  Frederick smiled and told her father what a good nurse she would make.  What a team they would be after June.  The men smiled and ushered Leta home to rest.


For three days, Silas did not move.  Frederick and Doc Harvey were convinced he never would.  Understanding that his fiancee had gotten a little twitterpated with the exotic young stranger in town, Frederick took the time to explain the dour prognosis to Leta,  hoping she would move on, taking more interest in their union.  It backfired.  She moped endlessly, wandering aimlessly through town, sighing and crying softly most of the time. Only when she was under the big top, watching the fill-in artists practice did she even show remote signs of life.  Then she would walk over to Silas' room and tell him what she had seen; how they had practiced.  On that last day, she saw him stir.  His eyes fluttered and he softly grunted in response to her.  Elated, she had called for Frederick and Doc.  They stood and waited while the miracle occurred.  He was coming back to her.  Her emotions overtook her and she touched his face.  She kissed her hand and laid it gently along his mouth. She called him her Love.  She had to go home and tell her parents the wonderful news.  She also wanted to break their hearts by confessing she was going to run away with Silas when he was better.  There would be no June wedding. Her heart would always belong to Silas.  


She dashed down the steps and into the road; along the store fronts until her breath burned in her lungs.  She just kept panting the words, almost preaching them:  "I love him"  In a split moment she decided to take the shortcut so she could get home sooner and be as brave as Silas had.  She had to tell them.  Her mind raced as quickly as her feet thundered under her as she thought of how to tell them the truth.  She heard the whistle of the train and hurried, needing to get across before the lumbering iron giant crossed the bridge.


When Leta's boot got stuck in the track, it didn't register.  She tugged and pulled shouting at the train to slow down.  The more she struggled, the more it wedged in to the gravel and between the splintering wood.  The whistle warned her to get out of the way, not realizing she was unable.  The scream of the brakes drowned out her own and as the heat of the coal, the sparks of the metal and the heaviness of her promise to never see Silas again came crashing down upon Leta, she threw up her hands and sadly accepted her fate.


There would be no June wedding for anyone.






I know it isn't very Christmassy, but it was what I got out of my research; a melancholy tale.  It's been a tough season for us but I'm looking forward to the home stretch to be spent with "framily" , and still missing those that can not be with us. The parties have begun and the stress of chores is giving way to the joy of the season.  Let's take a few moments and enjoy those around us as well as the time we share.


It's going to be hit or miss this weekend but I'll keep an eye out for you. 

In the spirit

Oh my! Has it been so long? *sigh* Sad but true.  I have not felt well and things have been landsliding in my direction under the guise of holiday spirit and fun. Let me share with you...

I remember growing up that my mom and I did most of the decorating. I miss that very much ( as I am usually the lone elf on decoration detail) My father always did the tree; perfectly. Now whether that meant we had to tie the holiday bush to the wall to keep it straight or we had to sacrifice our bodies for the Merrier Greater good; so be it.  As most of you know, I am allergic to pine. This was discovered when after crawling under a massive decorated tree to water it, it fell on top of me.  Angel Hair, pine needles and bulbs stabbed at me like a warped unholy form of acupuncture.  But the real fun came when we discovered the allergy. Itch? Not the word. Swelling? Unimaginable. Even today, I find bristles of white fiberglass embedded in my flesh. But that is Christmas Past. As is one of my favorite stories from a friend:

Her husband (then a boy) was given a little man's tool set: hammer, wrench, saw, screw driver...the works.  Well it was, after all, the family party so the adults were busy; not wanting to be bothered with the kids; at least not for a while. But that while was long enough.  After being told several times to "find something to do. " and "Play with your new toys." he did just that.  He sat quietly in the middle of that party, surrounded by capable adults and proceeded to saw off the legs of a coffee table. No one knew a thing until the second one began to collapse and all the drinks/ apps and such began to slide....

Ahhhh GREAT TIMES to remember.

Christmas Present? Well in true Griswold style, we put up our lights, but they still looked knotted after they were in the windows. "Lil knot here, Russ..." and of course my "Sparky" was dancing on that ladder as if there was a merengue playing ( I hate to watch that!)  but was still able to bark commands ... "Not that side. Don't unroll them like that..." you are getting the picture? I tried not to utter disparaging words when he climbed out on to the roof and hung upside down to clip in the lights...some of which went out the MINUTE they were hung but the replacement strand had only one plug! The other end? It just stopped. What the firetruck???  Well, to keep our marriage intact, I went inside to hang some different lights. I was fine until the chainsaw started up.  I thought he was being funny but I heard the crashing of lumber. A flash of fear and concern rumbled in my stomach, but I steadied myself and with all the control I could muster, whipped open the door, yelled: "Dinner's ready Clarrrrrk!" and then slammed it shut.  The kids began to giggle.  Then my daughter piped up with "Why's the carpet all wet ...TOOOODDD?" and in his booming radio voice I heard from all the way in the back of the house: "I don't KNOW Margo!"  I'm glad we all have a sense of humor.

But that is not our favorite source of Christmas dialogue. Everyone knows.  I'm all about Ralphie. My leg lamp sits beside me with the soft glow of electric sex when I write and the quotes fly much like pellets toward Black Bart. After our light fiasco, we headed for our tree ( before all the good ones are gone...).  I couldn't resist. Yes I did go there: shutting them all off and as I was last to get in the car said it: "Don't want to waste electricity." heehee...good stuff.

Now not to be left out, the toddlers decided to assist in their own fashion.  Bumpus hounds? Well, in their own right.  Winston pulled out the tree skirt and "Had his way with it". Felt and cinnamon are apparently aphrodisiacs for my piglet.  OH MY GOD WINSTON! PUT THAT AWAY! So in protest, he piddled on the ornaments. After washing them, my hope is that they don't smell like pee when the lights heat up. "Merry Christma---*sniff~ sniff~* What's that....?"  Birdie? She was milder. She took cinnamon pine cones into her lair and ate them like chips.  If I were a good parent, perhaps I'd have gotten her some damn dip. I just sighed and ate cookie dough then drove to the store to buy pre-made cookies for the after concert at school.  Throw in all the shopping, cards, and other stuff we elves are doing; (speaking of which, does anyone have any extra tape and ribbons? ;0   )   and it equals a lot of anxiety and stress.

Fah-rah-rah-rah -RAHHHHHH

I am looking forward to some time to write. I have tons of notes but simply can't break away to spend the time and have them come out right. *sigh* Soon we'll have our houses back in order and the bustle will be done and all of this will melt away soon like the snow ...oh wait we don't have any yet.

This is all we get tonight. I'm sorry. I'm a little dry and rushed. I miss you terribly and look forward to a slower pace soon.

Let's spend some time together this weekend maybe?
Sounds so good to me.
See you then.
Love,
Tess

Hey Ya'll
I didn't forget you, I've been really ill. Throw in a busy tough time at work, I just need a couple of days to recoup and get my feet a little steadier underneath me.

I hope you're all well. We will catch up soon and enjoy each other.

Thanks for checkin in on me. See you soon
Love,
Tess

I'm Wonder Woman Dammit!

What could have been the darkest day in my Gotham City wasn't. It should have been, but sometimes Good triumphs over evil. I won.  I don't care how but I did. Wonder Woman never asks.


It began at the grocery store.  I was excited to see that English muffins were on sale. Yay me and Happy Holidays. So I plucked them from the shelf and happily made my way up to the checkout with my cart full of goodies.  I had a lot to accomplish that day so I was rushing, pulling things out quickly and organizing them on the belt.  The last thing I wanted was my fabric softener sheets in with my bagels; cinnamon and "Mountain Fresh" do not a good breakfast make.  I was quickly flipping my prized muffins up to join the other "squishables" when the security tag gave way.  What tag? Well, the one that holds the bag closed.  As I made my lovely arc, swinging my arm to further their adventure into my grocery bag, they broke free and made a small rainbow of "not yet toasted" nooks and crannies as they proceeded to attack the bag boy with what sounded like gentle tommy gun fire: "fuff-fuff-fuff-fuff"  They pelted him softly and rolled away; under counters, across to the gumball machines....Dammit.  Not a good sign for a great day. My superhero cape drooped a little.  At least the nice kid went and got a new package for me.  I got home, beginning to find humor in my start. I thought I could still turn the day around and save it as any belonging to the Justice League would do. My son met me at the door.


"I have something to show you." he said quietly.


I felt my lips draw in.  He brought a test that had been carved up in purple ink.  I read two sets of comments from two teachers. One gave him a high grade and one resembled Ms. Shields from "A Christmas Story" :


"Margins! Margins! MAHHGINS! A Semi-colon you DOLT... F! F! EEEEEFF!" 


Ben had to redo the entire assignment. I had to go back out and find the movie so he could review it and try again. It was due...two minutes ago.  Dammit. My tiarra wiggled, coming a little loose on my noble head.


My daughter was right behind him not to be outdone.


"I need to go to the barn and get some video footage for my project. It's due tomorrow."


The barn is forty minutes away. I felt my chest tighten with anxiety and frustration but I held it in; glad that my bustier was snug. I got my keys, barked directions to the Wonder Twins and off we went. First the barn, then the movie stop, next home for chores, homework and if we had time, breathing. 


Arriving at the barn, I held the camera, becoming a Wonder-one-woman film crew.  My son impressed me in that he had  enough of Superman's vision and forethought to pack his other homework and, taking form of a student; worked diligently in the car. This was going better than planned. 


But back at the barn, the horse was less than cooperative and while we captured my daughter's expertise in equestrian handling/riding, we realized all too late that it is a stallion of Dr Doom's  as it took off down the field at full gallop, tucking its head.  I watched my daughter begin the roll, knowing full well that she was going to hurt my ears with that thick sickening thump as she hit the ground.


Dammit!


But this Wonder Twin has chosen the form of a super strong kid. We end lessons and filming We had enough material and no, the fall was NOT caught.  All that was recorded was me mumbling dammit over and over and a clip of my feet running across the grass. No AFV there.  I walked her back to the car, deciding we would treat ourselves to Gotham's finest take out.  I tried to ignite the bat mobile.  Nothing. Not even a cluck. I looked to find that my son left the car on for more than hour with the lights, radio...Good God I think he was attempting to power the bat signal off my car battery.  It's dead. 


DAMMIT. 


Trudging back up to the barn, I asked my daughter's teacher for a jump. She pulls up her bull of a truck and we get our red and black pincers out, hoping for the best. After more time than anticipated, The bat mobile roars with an apology and the promise of a speedy ride home.  In we go and off we are.  We hit the drive and rush in to the Bat cave because we still have chores and crap left.


"What about dinner? Weren't we going to stop? And the movie? We have to get that..." 


DAAAAAAMMIT! I stomp my gold LeMay boots. Throwing a less than Superfriend tantrum.


Back to the bat mobile and into Gotham I rush.  Dashing in to the store with my superhero vision,  I rip apart the shelves for this movie. Empty. My Spidey senses are tingling and I watch a kid pulling random movies and cd's off the shelves; lots of them.  I must have snared him in my lasso of truth because we looked at each other and he left them all abruptly.  I approached some clerks, explained what I had seen, but not before asking if they had the movie.  They looked where it was and of course that particular spot was empty. I closed my eyes, fighting the tears with the word of the day brought heartily on by the letter "D". I felt my shoulders deflate. I knew my boots were sagging and my tiarra was tilting.  The clerk felt so bad, he told me to wait.  He would call the Commissioner.  There was hope.  I looked to the sky for the signal. Fifteen minutes went by.  He returned forlorn.


"I don't have it."


I hung my head in defeat. The Legion of Doom had won. Dammit. I slowly turned and contemplated the price for my lasso on Craig's list.


"Wait! WAIT!" I heard as I approached the door.  I turned expecting to see security coming to arrest me for  some top secret anti-theft tag that had attached itself to my boot like wet toilet paper. At this moment, it seemed reasonable.  But it wasn't. It was the clerk.  In the thwarted thief's pile was the last copy of what I needed. 


I was surprised that no one asked for my autograph as I spun in circles doing the "wonder woman windmill" with my bad-day bullet deflecting wristbands shielding me from further defeat. "FEH_DOO! Gotcha! Not ME! NOT TODAY! Feh-DOOOO! Take that! AND that! VICTORY IS MIIIIIINE"


I pranced to the car, tears of glee sparkling in my eyes.  I pulled up to get sandwiches for those who were also struggling with their day in Gotham and there was no line. None. They even got the order right. YES! I felt the heat of pride and success sizzle through my veins like a burger on the grill. I straightened my tiarra, cinched up my lasso and marched in to my house.  The children cheered, the dogs hopped and barked happily.  I had saved the day. 


After all, I'm Wonder Woman dammit!

The Village

As you can guess, I was up north in my favorite place in the world; Promises.  We had a weekend stuffed with family, friends, food and laughter; just what the doctor ordered.

Now I am very fond of entertaining. I love company and sharing my culinary adventures (every twenty minutes); with most visitors.  However, there were unwanted visitors this weekend: a mouse...and his buddies.  I had my suspicions when I heard tiny giggling and scritching late at night.  Upon our arrival for the weekend, I went around the house cranking up thermostats and discovered that those little squatters had been swimming after dark without a lifeguard and just like a party at Tommy Lee's house, there had been a bad decision ending in "tragedy". One of them had gone for a dip in my commode and not taken his floatie ring.  I screamed and ran away begging Cheech to save me.  He sighed and told me to "pull the damn trigger" and flush.  I couldn't do that. I wanted it OUT of my sanctuary. There could be no tainting by these foul varmints. So he had to traipse upstairs and remove the furry buoy.  We then began to look, discovering that my pantry became a smorgasbord equivalent to the Golden Corral.

They helped themselves to my sunflower seeds for apps and then ate my pecans for a first course. They seemed disappointed in the pearl barley but milled over my pasta.  Although the Doritos intrigued them, they couldn't handle the fact that they were covered in cayenne. They then proceeded to soothe themselves with my fun size Reese's Cups.  Well let me share a factoid  with you. There IS a wrong way to eat a Reese's, especially if you're a mouse in my home and the candy is mine. I was ticked. So I called them motherfiretrucking mooches, got out the peanut butter and set the traps. Well I cried until Cheech did it.  He was chivalrous and macho as he laid them in dark far back corners and tucked them away. We had to dash out and begin our visiting over the river and through the woods.

Upon arriving home, stood stalk still and listened.  I don't know what we thought we'd hear.  It was quiet; deathly so.  And he opened the cupboard, pulled out the trap and stared at me.

"He's here." he whispered.

I covered my mouth I think to stifle the scream welling up in my chest.  Was it jubilation or horror? I don't know.  Cheech marched outside to dump our victory in the woods.  I followed him to the porch; no closer, and watched with macabre interest.  He opened the little door and shook the box.  Nothing.  He turned to peek inside.

I never thought that the mouse might still be alive.

He launched that deathtrap farther than the newly set punkin chunkin record with a yelp.  It was drowned out by the words shouted "IT'S NOT EFFING DEAAAAD!"

I will tell you that the word and emotion that smacked my body with the force of a speeding bullet train was terror. In my mind that little bastard had dialed all his pals, given them a single order: "Don't stop until she's laughing in madness" I screamed. And I wailed "What do we do NOW? Who do we call?" panic frayed the tone of my voice like an unravelling sweater.

You can NOT file a restraining order for wildlife.  I just want you to know that.  Our hearts were pounding in our chests. I was panting as if I'd been running for miles. I dashed inside and flopped on the couch feeling just the slightest bit dizzy, queasy.  The dogs came and they sat all over me. I wanted to feel safe, bury my face in their fur and cry until the nocturnal ninjas had all moved on. Forever.

My knight came inside laughing hysterically to see me drawn and pail on our "slouch couch"
"Save me...." I begged.

"Oh Jeez... Get up.  We will get them."

"All?"

"All." he promised.

And he hugged me.  I looked over his shoulder and above the sink where the perfect community for these vile demons silently sits; my collection of birdhouses; a village of the dammed. I smiled wickedly and pulled the family sized jar of peanut butter from the "Golden Corral"

"Yes. All." I muttered.




Ohhh if only you could have seen me! I did my best to share it with you and I hope you smiled. I have to laugh at myself. If I didn't, I might feel guilty when I giggled and pointed at others. Trite? yes. But....

:)

HAPPY THANKSGIVING


I wish you all a safe and wonderful holiday.  May the love and laughter you share overstuff your hearts like the pants that (mysteriously) will only fit this morning.  Drink deeply whether it's wine from a "red solo cup"  (see below...it's a gigglin song) or friendship from a tender heart. 
With many warm wishes and much love,
Tess

Red Solo Cup By Toby Keith

The Dream

The fog was warm and thick. She snuggled in it at first, not wanting to wake and pulled at the blanket covering her head. There came smouldering heat from her gut that gnawed at her to stir. Kelly grumped and fidgeted in her sleep, welcoming the lilt of her own sweet dozing breaths.   It was still dark but something inside her felt as if she'd been sleeping for a long time.  Her mind began to sputter; remembering the argument and how it had been so foolish; pointless. She frowned.


 It seemed that most of their fights were just that anymore. She winced at the awful things they'd said. She couldn't remember seeing Paul so angry.  He'd cleared the table with his arm splashing the meal all over the walls and floor.  Then he'd yelled that the house was a mess. With her big dark eyes flashing she'd smirked, waved her hand over the catastrophe like it was a game show prize and asked


"Thank you my dear, for pointing it out. Do you know how it could get like this? My my what piggies!" She picked up the couple of plates that had been missed by his childish display and chucked them into the pile.  They too broke and dumped.


He'd started for her and Kelly startled herself by taking a defensive stance. If he was going to do it, she was going to fight him the whole way.  Her fists clenched;  her leg rocked back in position to kick; hard if necessary. When he'd seen her prepare for his tirade he hesitated, almost stunned. Paul raised his open hand and smacked the table. 


"Not WORTH it." he growled and turned on his heel to stalk off per usual.


She wondered if it would be in poor taste to leave it all in his bed; stifling the laugh from the vision it created as the garbage was collected and removed. Disposable. That was how she saw their relationship now.  Disposable.  Silently, she removed herself from the unhappiness, choosing to cool her heals in the study.  It surprised her when Paul came in to the den where she was curled up with her book and a cup of tea.  


"Truce?" he asked handing her a wine glass.


She took it and held it, waiting. "And?"


"I'm sorry." he said softly; slowly.  He swirled it in his glass and drank deeply.  "It's your favorite." 


"You remember what that is?" she asked.


"I'm trying." he said a little more tightly.


"One glass of wine, does not an apology make. Paul, what's wrong? With you, with this, with us?" Kelly waved her arms. And so the night began again with talking, honesty and tears.  It was hard to hear and admit they had both failed themselves and each other.  They talked about new beginnings and how it could be different; better.  He told her that he loved her.  She smiled a little less coldly. As they continued, the night became fuzzy. The wine blurred her mind and slurred her vision. Kelly needed to sleep. Paul was still talking but his voice drifted down a long tunnel and disappeared before she could hear it.  Like black, deep water, the tickle of exhaustion crept along her limbs and weighed her down. She couldn't fight it and at last closed her eyes. The sleep was deep and soothing.


So now as she woke, the scratch of her blanket prodded her to remember. No, it begged her. She tossed restlessly and found little room to move.  Kelly tried to swallow and found her mouth and throat brittle.  Had she been snoring?  Her head thumped so viciously inside her skull, she thought is would crack it in two. Kelly's eyes rolled open lazily, snapping shut before she could truly process the darkness around her.  Her neck began to tighten and ache as did her forearms and legs.  It was then she realized the sweet smell that had reminded her of peaceful Sunday naps was tainted with must and sourness. It stung her nostrils and made her straining eyes water.  The blanket was not her wool comforter from her bed but more like a sack. Kelly's aches came from the position she was in; tossed and crumpled like a rag doll. Her bed seemed infantile and pinching.


As reality came bounding in, so did the first shovel full of dirt.  It skittered across the burlap and sifted in through the holes, giggling and dancing along her skin as it searched for a home.  Another came quickly after it: whump. This one nestled along the bend in her middle pushing out the first scream.  Then came the shower. Rocks and broken tree roots mocked and stabbed at her, rushing in as unwanted roommates in her rapidly filling "bedroom".  Adrenaline began to broil through her nerves and into her muscles.  She pushed and fought against her shroud and the pins that pricked under her skin as the drug he'd slipped her began to pull back.  The fog started to melt and she tore at the burlap to free herself.  Kelly gasped and yawned with horror while her body endured the pummeling of shovel after shovel full of dirt.  Her breath was coming in rasping bursts; burning her lungs with every attempt. Screaming only allowed mud to form and clog her mouth and throat.  At last the threads gave way and a flood of sand and dirt rushed in to welcome her to her forever.  


Kelly began to dig, her arms gulping, grasping at the soft, choking muck.  Her legs punched and mashed it solid so she could begin to swim out of the blackness coating her.  Arms burning and head lolling, she clawed her way to the upper ledge of the grave.  The first full breath she took filled her to her toes.  She laughed and gulped again, hungry for more; a lifetime more.  Paul stood there leaning on the spade he'd been using to bury his wife. Patiently he sighed.


"Really?" he asked, the disappointment sagged his shoulders.  "Now I have to dig again." he sighed sadly.


"You ..." she spluttered and continued to climb out of the hole using all four limbs independently.  She resembled a neut running.  Her feet were just pulling away from the cold ground.  She was free and clear.  


He slumped forward a bit, heaving the shovel up over his head.  "Good night Princess." he grunted and swung down hard. The thick crunch made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.  The white blinding light and searing pain in her head and neck were the last reactions Kelly had as her skull snapped to the side.


Her eyes flew open in a scream.  She bolted up out of the chair nearly knocking Paul to the ground. Her hands trembled.  She fell to the floor on her hands and knees sobbing and coughing.


"What the HELL?" he gasped stepping back to see the entire picture. "What's the matter with  you? Jeezus Kelly, I just came in to apologize!  I leaned in to touch your cheek..."


She continued to pant and fight for her breath. At last she looked up, focusing on her husband, their study, her chair. She had fallen asleep in her book and had a bad dream.  She began to giggle and blush with embarrassment.


"Oh my God. Paul, I had a horrible dream.  I couldn't believe it." She stood up and absently brushed at her clothes. "You won't believe it." she shook her head and looked up at him.  


He smiled and offered her a glass of wine. "I'm sorry.  Truce?"


She took it and sipped.  "Whew. How awful." she sighed, wiping her hair from her forehead.  "Ooo this is nice..."


"It's your favorite."


Her smile dwindled only a little.  He sat down opposite her and they began to talk. She began to tell him her little nightmare, finding it even more funny with the wine gently relaxing her muscles; making her sleepy. So Sleepy.




Nothing glamorous.  My daughter and I were watching videos and movie trailers and came across one that was REALLY creepy.  We both gave it that nervous: "Ha-ha-haaa?" and admitted goose bumps.  This did not solve the problem of course. But it was fun and I like it.  In the end, that's all that matters. (Tex? You in there? Go back and read those last couple of sentences before you begin to slash...*wink nudge*)

The Other Side of the Hill

A precursor to " NO RESTRAINT" (from October 11),  I have the beginning backdrop for our victim/heroine for our lovely asylum patient Christina. There is a third and last installment, but it will be a few days before I am finished marinating it and post it.  Don't worry though, I have something for you during the interum. I hope you like it and enjoy coming here. 


For my new friends., I thank you very much for your kind words and visits. I look forward to getting to know you. 








Christina had hoped to find peace in her new home.  It was quiet and remote, leaving all the angst, fear and despair swirling behind her. She stepped in to her running shoes and headed out comforted by the gravel crunching under her feet.  She breathed deeply while the trees swayed, applauding her efforts. The road was bent and twisted, riddled with hills that pushed her to her physical limits. Christina had found her initial runs grueling and painful, but as she continued, she felt herself growing stronger; more confident.  She would run to the top of the steepest hill and stop. Looking down at the old house, she shivered.


It sat alone, abandoned;  it's window eyes long dark were lashed by ragged filmy curtains. Its majestic form seemed frail and bloated with neglect. Once cheerful flowerpots that had brimmed with lovely color and flowery shapes sat frumpish and mad, decorated only with dead brown twisted spikes. A picket fence frowned, missing pieces like gaping decayed teeth. The gate lolled open in a lonely yawn.  Christina watched it, felt it beckon her.  The leaves giggled and tickled her,swirling around as if pushing her toward it.  For months she fought them, choosing instead to turn and run home. But the imagery seemed to stick with her. She dreamt of the house; imagining dark dangerous shapes that would call her, threaten her and try to swallow her. It left her soul icy but morbid curiosity combined with something familiar pushed her instead to the library's archives with the hopes of finding something.


One thing that kept cropping up was that the house was never right. No one would stay there for long and it had been surrounded by tragedy and horror from the first nail hammered in during the late 1800's. The original owner was the man named Presser who served as the town vicar and judge.  Mingling the two became deadly and wicked for the entire town.  He wielded his own brand of brimstone justice on any who crossed his path in the business or religious arenas.  Women refusing his advances were branded harlots and sinners;  destroyed along with their children (the children were always first so as to certainly crush the wills of the mothers and possibly "save" them when the good judge offered solace). Men who stood up to his crooked, shoddy business practices were also targeted. The house (and primary occupant) were burned mysteriously in the early 1900's though the frame miraculously survived.  A new home was reconstructed on the site in the 50's by a husband and wife. After he had been killed in a tragic accident, his wife remained though a recluse and considered unstable.


Strangely, the wife died with equal tragedy many years later. There were many leads but back at the time it took place, there was not enough technology to support the police theories.  The woman in question, a care giver of sorts, had covered her tracks just enough to keep the authorities at bay.  They couldn't prove their suspicions and so the horrible bludgeoning went unsolved. The woman remained free.  The history trailed off with the prime suspect, vanishing silently into the pages of forgotten records and in to the world of anonymity. 


Christina spoke with her neighbors, happy at first to find them filled with their own tales and hear-say. It turned into a collection of Ray Bradbury theories and stories.  She would smile to herself as the possibilities rolled out in front of her.


"They were lovers."
"She was a psychopath"
"She was insane"
"It was Elvis and then he left the building."


Nevertheless, the house still called to her and one afternoon she made the mistake of listening all too closely.  She had gone farther and harder than usual ending up as always at the top of the hill.  The house seemed to tremble with anticipation upon her panted arrival.  She slowly approached, hearing the soft wind beg her to come closer, to help. On the porch, reaching to push open the door, she felt a tingle rush under her skin.  The house seemed to sigh when she entered the foyer, reveling in her company at last.


"Hello?" she asked, feeling foolish as the word bounced off the marred walls. Of course no one was there. Christina stood with her eyes closed, listening to the house. It shifted and embraced her.  She felt heavy and choked with dread? Fear?  The sun outside gave up on her and drifted cowardly behind some clouds so as not to witness anything too severe.  She willed her feet to scuff along the dirty floor staring fascinated by the ghostly shapes of covered broken furniture. She waited.


The sun peeked back out satisfied that the worst was over.  Encouraged, the guest began to explore. Nothing was off limits. The old relic welcomed her in its own fashion. The bedrooms offered luxurious raccoon nests wreaking of damp dust and punked wood softened by drips and leaks. The study and formal rooms held awkward shadows, leaving the dining and kitchen left to see.  She still tiptoed through the house, afraid to stir someone. She had failed. The creaking and groaning within the walls became louder.  She dismissed it as the varmints who now resided. The wind giggled and danced around her with icy fingers that pulled at her, poked through her clothing.  The voice was soft and helpless. She strained to hear it again as it begged for assistance.  Christina started back through the house following it. Down the hall she crept to a back bedroom.  The house grew darker, colder.  She could now see her breath though sweat trickled along her neck and upper lip. At the end of the hall in this forgotten room was darkness.  The shapes shifted like thick bubbles and rushed up upon her with a hissing almost a growl.  It wasn't fear she felt but something much greater. Something that sent a scream through entire body. Her heart raced, her nerves burned and she wasn't sure if she could move.  The voice crawled up her skins around her neck and slid into her ear where it began to infect her brain.  It laughed and threatened her. It promised horrible things and damage. Christina hit her knees and begged to be left alone. The laugh was meant to be soothing and reassuring but it wasn't. Christina had been possessed. She belonged to something else now.  Though it let her go home, she was never the same.


She chittered with her new invisible roommate; laughing and talking through indistinguishable conversations. Anger and a combative nature became normalcy.  She frightened people with her vile graphic threats and violent behavior. It wasn't above Christina to self inflict so as to drive one of her cruel promises home to a possible victim; as sickening demonstration. Her parents tried to help at first but ended up leaving town abruptly.  According to Christina, they simply parted ways, agreeing to live and let live.  They were discovered six months later charred in a burn barrel at the back of the shack on the other side of the hill.  A neighbor girl who had asked Christina to curb her dog fell victim to a terrible hit and run accident that left the neighbor with one eye and a shattered leg. Christina was questioned.  Her answers were nonsensical and violent. She threatened the police; attempting to "carve one like a turkey" with a pen.  It landed her in a psychiatric prison where she would spend most of her time alone; watched by white coats and kept company only by the voices in her head.

Consider the source

He was always able to snow her, even when she knew better but she loved him enough to want the empty words to be true.  He abused that; abused her heart. His fists simply followed suit.


"I want to love you." he grunted through gnashed teeth.


"But?" the tears burned her cheeks.  Her heart sobbed where she simply lacked the strength.


"It's hard when you're this weak.  A failure. You make me so angry. I hate what you make me do." He raised his hand once more.


"My fault." she thought as the nausea of her arm being broken in two swept over her. She looked down to stifle the gag.  She felt her lungs begin to burn with sorrow and her head throbbed with disbelief.  The screams rushed forward, crowding to the front of her mouth to be heard but she choked them back and fought for control.  She had learned no noise was better.


"Well let's consider the source. You are very needy; like a puppy.  I want someone more ...."  his voice trailed; slowing the rhythm of his beating.  He turned and left abruptly as if bored by the repetition.


She lay dead still, not certain if he had finished.  Usually she crept to bed allowing the cool sheets to soothe her.  She would plot ways to improve herself, hoping it would be different next time; thinking he would approve or maybe even love her.  Not today, not again.   Instead, she recognized a small glow of anger.  She felt the resistance to his humiliation for the first time and drank deeply.  When he had gone to sleep, cursing and berating her from the living room, she left.  She took nothing but the money she stashed for emergency hospital visits, desiring no further connection to his hateful cowardice. The night welcomed her. She hopped the first bus out of town, found the closest hospital and never looked back.  The pins  they put in her arm kept her strong, committed to herself for the first time in far too long. The love for him she had held so preciously burned up and disappeared, leaving behind a bitter understanding of the man he was versus the man he'd pretended to be to the outside world.  She came out on top; learning to stand alone and tolerate no one who could not give what she gave; in friendship, in love, in all things. Time lessened the pain but did not heal the wound.  It simply marched on, encouraging her to follow. As she did, she met new people, made new friends and built a life that was simple, loving and pain free.  She was amazed at the ease with which sleep visited her; sound and peaceful as opposed to broken and fear ridden.  She enjoyed the sound of laughter, surprised at her own and reveling in the noise when shared.  She understood at last that happiness was good to have and easy to achieve if she just let it in.


She was heading home from a party one night not long after her arm had healed.  It was way passed bed time.  She had not intended to stay so late but the company had been fabulous and the fun was intoxicating.  She began the trek down a winding lonely road.  She turned the radio up to keep her company and be part of the band as she loved to do.  Stars winked behind veils of clouds and the moon grinned brightly against the velvet sky.  She slowed at a particularly tight turn.  Gliding around, she spotted a fresh accident; a single car on its roof.  It had slammed into a utility pole with transformers perched on it.  The crack was thick and deep.  With the wind, it swayed menacingly, threatening to collapse.  She pulled over quickly and clicked her hazard lights, hopping out to help the driver.  Smoke plumed out of the broken windows. The airbags billowed like trapped little ghosts.


"Hello? Can you see me? Hear me?" Her feet crunched on the shoulder's gravel.


A muffled moan crawled out from under the wreck.


She slowly approached and got down on her knees peeking in.  Her hand slipped in a small puddle. A quick whiff confirmed it was gas. The driver stirred in the shadows and a hand wobbled toward her.


"Here. Help me..."  The voice froze her blood. "I'm stuck."


She tilted her head and glared into the dark car.  He was cut badly but was able to begin wiggling toward the open window. He hadn't really seen her yet.  Again, he called to her.


"Help me. There's gas..." and he turned his head. As it registered with him, his eyes flew wide and his clutch for help became a fierce grab. "YOU" he shouted and moved for her.  He growled thickly and began to swear.  The promises of reaching her were filled with dark violence.


She was glad he was pinned.  She recoiled and cried out, watching in horror as he started to pull himself toward her with a vengeance. When he realized he could not move any more without her, he changed his demeanor, becoming soft and pleading.  His show of vulnerability and helplessness were extraordinary and false.  She sat back and watched, feeling her eyes and heart slowly glazed over with indifference.  She stood and brushed her knees, turning to leave him as he had her; broken, bloody and hurt.  It was a good feeling. As his voice hitched, registering fear, she paused, cocking her head, listening to him:
"Please Baby. Help me.  I need you."  His hand was mostly out of the window now; the fingers at an odd, ugly angle.


She walked around to the other side and peered in.  His legs looked smashed; dented and crumpled in several places.  His stuff had skittered all over the road; wallet, phone, cigarettes.  He had turned to try to follow her, but yelped when he'd gone too far.  Heavily she sighed and circled one last time. The pole swivelled cruelly tempting her to test its stamina.


"Hurry up Stupid! Get me out of here!"


"Ahhhh THERE you are. " she snorted. "I was worried for a moment." Lazily, she lit one of his cigarettes dragging deeply. She found it, like the man in the wreckage, pitiful and unfulfilling. 


"Get OVER here you bitch! I swear to God when I get a hold of you..."


She raced back and crouched down so he could see her. Her eyes glinted in the dark. She puffed smoke in to the window allowing the glow of the cigarette's fire to sink in. 


"Wait Baby. We can fix this. You know I loved you. I don't know what happened but you hear me right? I love you..."


She rolled the ember near the stream of gas and looked back at him.  "Do I? hmmm Let's consider the source."


The heat surprised her, tousling her hair and clothes.  Getting into her car she watched for a moment as the flames danced and licked the fragile pole. She was a chorus into "American Girl" when the explosion rumbled up on her. The flash of light was brilliant; sparking and splintering the sky like an Independence Day celebration.  


It was, actually, if you consider the source.




Not extraordinary, but I still like it.  Inspired by an accident we stumbled on while travelling home, we stopped and helped a young girl who had lost control around one of the turns (for those of you in the know...that set I ALWAYS warn you about).  She was okay and all ended as best as it could.  I just thought of some different variables... I hope you enjoyed your visit. I know I did. I'll try not to stay away so long.  I've got a couple of witchy weeks ahead but I hope we can hang out. I feel better here with you.

My kids are always bugging me to "guest blog".  This is my daughter's eighth grade competition "Little Tale of Horror".  I loved it.  She did a wonderful job and so I promised her I'd put it up.  I hope you enjoy it.  She is amazing to me. 

The park was dark and silent. She pulled her shrug closer around her shoulders and shivered. Somewhere off in the distance a wolf howled, causing her to jump. Swearing softly to herself, she continued to walk briskly through the deserted park. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she barely heard the man’s voice calling out to her.

                “What?!” she asked crossly, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I said,” the man answered calmly, “What is a pretty girl like you doing out all alone on a beautiful night like this?”

“Oh,” she felt herself blushing, “I’m just on my way home. I missed the bus and I have to walk. My brother will be here in about an hour, but I don’t feel like waiting,” while she was talking, she pulled gently on her blood red hair. She had dyed it to help attract victims. It was working. She hissed, and lunged, baring her fangs.

Horrified, the man leapt back, and tried to flee for his life, but by then it was too late. She had him by the arm. He began to shriek wildly, trying to free himself from her clutches. She was too quick for him. With one fluid motion, she bit him. The blood that flowed into her mouth was sweet and tasted like gold. She drank greedily, gulping in the precious liquid. She felt his feeble attempts to free himself grow weaker and weaker, until they stopped all together. He was dead, she hissed, and then she hid the body behind some bushes.

She walked on, trying to ignore the hunger in her stomach. A soft voice drew her back from her thoughts. Spiraling around, she bared her fangs, only to find a small child staring at her curiously. Retracting her fangs as quickly as she could, she made her eyes appear welcome and friendly, instead of cold and hungry. She walked closer to the child, her nose picking up on the scent of another potential meal. The child spoke to her, and she nodded, unaware of what he was really saying.

Then, as quick as a flash, the child lunged. In his fist was a small dagger. He ripped the dagger downward, and she stifled a gasp as blood seeped from the open wound. The dagger plunged into her skin again and again, ripping and tearing, but she was an immortal. She would not die…. At least that’s what she thought. The child then brought a small match to her face. The pain she felt when the match neared her face was so immense that it made her actually blister. She fell, a shredded, bloody mess at this little boy’s feet. The last words she ever heard were; “That is for what you have done to my father!” Then her eyes closed forever…

So the child thought.

The Pine Hill Pull-Out

Let's not mince words. I have had a bitch of a week and absolutely can not take one more thing being put on my plate, dumped in my lap or left for me to fix/clean up/ ....lalala ... we on the same page?  I thought so.  The last straw was my drive home.  My route is famous for the smudgy butt-holes who ride the left turn lane and cut in right at the break of a street or simply plow through the intersection honking and being complete morons.  I had several of those today and being in my fragile state of mind, I did the only thing that I knew to do.  The following is dedicated to ALL who do this. May your Karma be swift and seen by many:


The song is "Tragedy" by the BeeGees.  My FAVORITE BeeGees song.
My therapy has been to write this, crank up the volume and "hustle".
 I will tack it on so you may sing along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here I'm parked
At  a red light during rush hour
Had to work
but I'm done now I'm on my way out.
Goin home
I watch the Envoy creepin up
He's mouthing "Want in front of you"
Front of you
Let me through~ Let me through!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tragedy!
When you've got no class and you think you're first
It's Tragedy
Wanna throw some nails so your tires burst
I'll laugh and point
When no one will help you
You're goin nowhere.
______

Tragedy!
When the gap is closed and you can't squeeze in
It's Tragedy!
And  you see me flip the bird and grin
No one will budge
We're all pulling closer
You're goin nowhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You pull in
There's a burnin down inside of me
I hate your guts
with frustration that won't let me be
I reach down
And I turn on hal-o-gen high beams
They shine in your eyes so brightly
So brightly
Can't you see?! CAN'T YOU SEE?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tragedy!
When you lose control
And you honk your horn
It's Tragedy~
So you've cut us off and you wave your arm
Hard to watch
You are so selfish
should be goin nowhere
____________________________

Tragedy!
But the cops have seen
And they pull out
Not a Tragedy!
And they flash their lights so you  have to stop
I'm glad to see
That you'll get a ticket
and be late somewhere......



Laugh with me please.  It will do us all some good. I just know it.

Bee Gees- Tragedy

The Calling

The dream was always the same,  waking her with sweat and nausea; a trembling body and racing heart as if being chased.  The backdrop of her nightmare was unfamiliar yet detailed; a large house with seemingly endless hallways.  In the dream, she was bathed in delicate purple and daylight with no fear or sense of urgency.  Yet as the dream progressed her surroundings changed dripping in ominous shadows, heavy with fear.


It had been weeks of sleeplessness and the devastating realization of her second miscarriage that pushed her to the brink. In the velvety night she roamed stoically through rooms stopping at windows to glare at the stars and make yet another wish with her hand clutching an empty but sore tummy. Wistfully, she rubbed it in circles and closed her eyes against the agony that was closing in around her.  Denise softly cried, asking why she couldn't be a mother? The insurance had been clear that this was the last attempt they would cover.  The word adoption smiled gently in the back of her heart; whispering it could be all right and that it would fill the panicky, empty hole.  It reassured her that she would be no less a woman to not have her own flesh and blood. Families were made lots of ways. Shaking with fatigue and despair, she called in her vacation, packing her favorite clothes and some good books; not much else except for her laptop where this diary was kept:

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1998


AFTERNOON
Long drive.  The weather is cooling off quickly. Met the keeper, Carol (nice older lady. I hope we have stuff to talk about) and she showed me to my room.  It's lovely;  cute little purple flowers, very dainty on the ground floor.  A small narrow path leads down the length of the patio to a creek and down to the lake. There is a sense of serenity here. I guess it's just us this weekend. Dinner is lobster bisque with a shrimp risotto. Nice. We aren't eating until late and I have several hours yet to discover my surroundings.


I find the property romantic and peaceful.  The woods are lush and heavy with the sweetness of  fall.  There has been a lot of rain as the creek is swollen, belching over the banks and glubbing down to a deep dark soothing lake.  I went down and became mesmerized by the soft clapping of the waves along the dock while birds of all sorts strode passed me, indifferent to my appearance in their scenery.  The sun felt good on my face and the tears I cried today were those less of pity  more of hope. I could survive this. I could still be a mother. I hear Carol ringing the bell.  Off I go. Be back later.

BEFORE BED


Dinner was wonderful; warm and savory bisque with fabulous risotto; a hint of mint? I don't know but the company equaled its excellence.  We discovered we both went to the same university, she with a business degree as opposed to my poli-sci/communications. We laughed about our profs and poured too much wine.  It's easy since it is just the two of us.  I wonder if this is a second love for her?  To run her own b/b? Interesting ... I did my best not to cry telling her I was too stressed and needed to simply get away from the world.  She was comforting; generous with her kind words and wonderful wine. Oi!My head!!!


Denise slipped out of her clothes and snuck up on her fluffy comfortable bed where broken hearted sobs were magnified by too many glasses of grapes.  Sleep crawled in next to her snuggling up dark and thick until the tapping began.


Her mind hazily scolded her for her fears and that it was a rodent.  After all, they were in the woods. But the unwanted visitor kept scritching; hurriedly and then in the dark, she heard a whisper; frail and small, like a kitten's mewl.  The chills snaked across her body leaving her clammy and slick.  Pretending not to hear, she pulled the blankets up, stuck her fingers in her ears and prayed for safe passage in to the morning.


FRIDAY, OCTOBER 16


I woke with burning eyes, a head ache and the rumblings of an upset stomach.  I promised myself I would never drink again if I could just survive a shower.  Somehow I did (God chooses the silliest prayers to answer)  and crawled back to bed where I clung to the sheets hoping I could stay on Earth while my bed spun at an alarming rate, an extra foot on the floor allowed me to slip back to sleep for the rest of the day.  It wasn't a great sleep though.  It wasn't even drunk sleep.  I dreamt of a baby's birthday party.  Lovely bright colors filled a beautifully decorated room where a music box tinkled softly.  There were streamers and balloons all dipping and bubbling around a spectacular white cake.  The candles burned and burned.  The wax dripped and puddled on the gleaming once happy decadence, making it appear warped and poisoned somehow.  No one came and the music sounded more sour and lonesome.  I sat in front of the cake and began to cry.  Then Carol knocked.  Startled and confused, I nearly fell out of my bed trying to understand what was happening.  She asked if I was all right.  I had to confess I had overindulged. She reminded me supper was soon and to my surprise the soft lavenders and hot pinks slashing at the sky confirmed evening was upon me.  I quickly dressed and joined her for a wonderful chicken corn chowder with freshly roasted peppers and a Caprese salad to die for (my fave).  She brought some crusty fresh bread and a bottle of wine.  I had to shut my eyes as my stomach lurched in protest.


 She asked if I was pregnant.  I tried to laugh it off but she knew right away my heart was hurting.  I should have said no to the wine.  Then maybe I wouldn't have told her the story; my baby-less story.  Carol sat and listened; saying little.  I was suddenly exhausted and abruptly excused myself.  I flopped on my bed and felt the pain in my chest;  the lump of jealousy for anyone who was a mother; the anger and self pity of my own misfortune.  I cried myself to sleep.


 I have no idea when it began.  The tapping seemed more panicky.  Curious, I rolled, frightened  to see a small girl in jammies.  Her eyes were large and black; hollow. Her fingers were dirty as if she'd been playing in mud all day.  She whispered to me but the noise seemed to rush by before I could hear her.  Then she glanced down the little alley and her face took on horrible fright.  I got up and stood at the door.  Her hands tapped eagerly.  "Mommy. Let me in. HURRY" she begged.  I touched the glass where her fingertips bopped lightly.  She scurried away just as I was turning the knob.  Then a shadow lurched in front of me; too thick to be the night and hustled after the child.  My knees trembled and my heart thumped under my shirt.  With all my strength, I opened the door and stepped out.  I called to her to come back. Nothing.


I must have been dreaming I guess.  Damn wine.  Never again.


SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17


Breakfast was quiet simply because of my fatigue and confusion.  I trekked to the library to look for answers but was disappointed.  I must have looked very forlorn as I came in.  Carol gave me a few minutes to freshen up and then laid before me a fantastic meal of roasted pork with Au gratin potatoes and a wonderful spinach salad.  And wine (sigh) which I refused at first but then I noticed her kicking them back pretty steadily so I had a couple of drinks.  I asked her how'd she'd come to stay.  Mistake.


Carol told me that her little girl was killed here.  The words fell out and shattered on the floor.  She confessed she couldn't leave her.  Apparently they had visited (this place) as a family several times.  Her daughter knew the area well.  It was windy that afternoon and the wind tossed the boats in the marina like toys.  She was playing in the creek as Carol watched but she was called away.  When she came back, Mina was gone.  There was no trace, no body, no tracks. Ever. (this was almost fifteen years ago! Imagine!)  They had questioned a handy man in the area as well as hunters and the neighbors.  They surmised that the girl had wandered into the wood (Lions and tigers and bears...oh my??) OR had been playing at the dock and slipped in to drown.  (still...no body??)


I had no choice.  I told her what I was experiencing.  Carol told me that it was Mina's favorite room and asked if she could stay there with me.  We silently agreed.  We quickly cleaned up and headed for our slumber party (with wine!! Augh will I ever LEARN??) We giggled like school girls until sleep came.  Then the tapping.  I heard it but waited for Carol.  I opened my eyes to see the same little girl as before.  She tapped again more determined this time.  My hostess got up and knelt at the door, cupping her quivering mouth.  The child rattled the door.


"Mommy.  Let me in. Hurry."


Carol stood, did as her daughter asked and stepped on to the porch.  The girl turned and screamed as my friend covered her with her body.  The blackness swallowed them.  Both were screaming now and there were flashes of light stabbing at my unaccustomed eyes.  There was a sweet burning smell that caused me to gag and as I looked away, I heard a tearing sound.  As soon as I could I refocused on the turmoil outside my door and saw the cloud break away in splintered sharp pieces.  Mother and daughter stood together holding hands.  Slowly they headed along the porch toward the creek.  Carol turned and smiled at me.  She was transparent and wispy but there was a joyful light glowing from them both.  I sat on my bed, turning to pull up the blankets to realize Carol's body lay next to me. Screaming isn't the word for the noise I made.


I was hysterical and of little help to the police chief ( Thomas?) as he came to begin the investigation. What a mess.  I had almost nothing for him.  But he asked me who ran the place and all I could do was tell the truth.


"I guess I do now."

OCTOBER 18, 2011


I celebrated my wedding anniversary today.  The other officers took Thomas' shift at the station. (so sweet those guys!!)  My daughter Mina Carol (we call her MC) brought us a beautiful cake into my wonderful study where my purple little flowers still daintily remain.  It was white with lots of candles glowing happily.  As the night and the celebration quietly continued, I treasured the word "Mommy".  Thomas and I shared our favorite wine (I never DID learn) and waited. Sure enough we saw them walk down the porch, hand in hand. Giggling.  


So now I guess you know where I've been.  I really like this one.  I've worked hard on it and am pleased, considering it's a new style for me.  Need to try new things, right? 


 Well I hate to say it but I probably won't be back until after my race.  I was hoping to enjoy "preparing" a little more.  My week has been less than stellar.   Regardless, I thank you for coming over to hang out and hope you enjoyed yourself.  Wish me luck.  I'll see you soon.


Love,
Tess

Oh my oh my.
I had a wonderful weekend, running farther than I have in ages and with my race next weekend, I am proud of my progress.  I confess extreme elation over our possession of the hot tub. My old bones doth protest. But I did it. Yay me.

My daughter grew up in a matter of moments thanks to a beautician and some scissors.  She has had long hair forever.  I've begged her to cut it but of course the answer is no because...it's me.  Well, as many of you know, I let her color her hair; burgundy and despite the free wielding advice of not to and what an awful mother I was for doing it, she looked great.  THEN she decided (out of the blue?) to cut it. Pixie style. Again...lots of advice and lectures but... she looks amazing. She loves every strand and feels confident. I'm proud of her both in conviction and decision.

My son? Well he proceeded to get his cut too and sachay around like a top model with that million dollar smile and that wit that leaves me speechless and filled with giggly tears (most days).

Why the drive by? Well, honestly I'm just getting home and I'm bushed.  I have one started but am too exhausted to finish it.  My week begins with a ton of running and appointments so it is going to have to be Tuesday or so before we get to really sit and yap.

Hang on ... this part of the road is a little bumpy...
Thanks for checkin in on me. I look forward to catching up soon.
Love,
Tess