My dears I didn't forget you. I just couldn't get here. We travelled home for the weekend with friends and it was nothing short of outstanding; worth every minute of the long drive. Framily is the best as are my Yayas.
But that means I am behind. This weekend is a Promises weekend (I must plant my flowers, love my dragonfly lights and my "Oasis" ) I can hardly wait.
I'll be back soon.
I hope you had a great holiday.
Love to all,
Tess
Monday, May 30, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
COLLECTING VOICES NIGHTLY
Collecting voices nightly
The doctors headed down the hall to her room where they watched her, made dosage changes and still were left scratching their heads. They had a new stack of question, flashcards, and other "impossibles" for Tina today. They rolled their eyes and sighed skeptically until she got them right; repeatedly. And yet, she was elusive to the simple workings of “today”. She was able to perform most tasks they gave her ,although there were times when she seemed to only dabble in reality. She might be able to put the dishes away or take the trash out but to answer and converse on the phone or shop in a market where she might have to ask questions; she failed. Initially, they dismissed her behavior as shock to the sudden loss of her son. The incident had been brutal. She had somehow managed to ward off a brutal attack from her abusive ex-boyfriend and managed to drag both herself and her small son from the burning building he’d left in his wake. She was the only survivor…if they could call it that. She was listless, unresponsive for so very long they had almost given up. Then she had tried to swallow a ton of meds stolen from the patients all over the floor. They had fought for their little Nostradamus. She had shown a propensity for “fortune telling” as they joked. They asked her impossible questions; well above her simple education which she always answered; the next morning. She even predicted accidents and deaths of those close to her “study team”. They scanned and tested, finding nothing to explain her behavior or her accuracy. They even tried “blackmail”; letting her know that it was her odd habits that kept her within the walls of the asylum. They showed her their tapes of her, asking repeatedly who she spoke to. Her predictions were over eighty percent correct. They often bowed their heads and discussed that too. Her room was always full of energy and commotion.
She sat in the window waiting for the sun to give up and go away. It was all she could do to focus in her workday. She waited and fidgeted, begging for dusk to appear. Tina began her collecting the same way all the time: “ If today was hard, tell me about it”. She would continue to mutter, laughing sometimes through the night until exhaustion at last permitted her to sleep. Rarely did the conversations venture into light hours but on occasion, people heard her and had seen her swat at invisible hands, quick to giggle “Quit it!” Loony was the verdict in these instances. Most shook their heads sadly and did their own share of whispering. Tina didn’t care. She had to laugh when the doctors got angry because they just wouldn’t listen and simply couldn’t see. It was all right there in front of them; beyond the trauma, the loss; not just the physical but emotional; spiritual. She had talked and talked but no one heard a word. The accident had left scars on the inside and out. Medicine healed some but not all wounds; no different than time she sadly understood. But she had found a way around that pain or rather it had found her. Realizing she was the survivor, she was left not only with the wounds but also with anger and confusion. She yelled at God, threatened and screamed. Nothing. Then she took the pills; all of them to go back and be with him but when even that failed and she was sure hope was gone and then she began to see; to talk, and not just to her son but to all of them.
She now understood even if hecould not come back to her she would never be alone; the whispers and breezes through her room reassured her of that. Like misty Rumplestiltskins they were able to provide the answers to the doctors’ confusing and silly questions. Lord knew she didn’t care what the hypotenuse of a speculated triangle through the extrapolation of the race car versus the drop of a second car from 10,000 feet would be. Often the doctors scoffed while clicking their pens arrogantly and dismissing her statements (Why do you want to worry about that when your son is so sick?) but they usually came back after a while to seek more personal information or achieve understanding on a more gentle yet higher level. She understood they kept her for their own selfish reasons.
When “friends” would come, she often felt jilted of that time not spent with her boy, but she saw their need for her and their want to reach over one last time. Some stayed; lingering softly. Those were the breezes that swirled around her room. Some were a little more friendly and eager to talk to anyone. Those were the ones that often kept her from the phone or interrupted conversations she was having with those like herself. And then there were the others that she had asked to leave; their disquiet and foul tempers being too much for her soul to handle. There had not been many to excommunicate, but she had been strong enough of spirit to know they had to go. They were the cold spots and the chills; even in the 90 degree August days.
All in the window at night she collected voices for her heart until she had lived her life as best she could; to enjoy it and her son again. Her “moving life” was quiet and she kept it simple; content to stay anonymous in a little asylum where she could enjoy her son; ghost or not. When time finally stopped and she was gone for good, the answers remained in the whispers in the halls, the playful movement of things and the breezes that always swirled around in room 510.
I'm dabbling again. I'm doing some research and want to write somethingin this vein but needed to practice. Thanks for being my guinea pigs. It's not bad, but I want to work on it. Let me know what you think; here or in my email per norm.
Thanks guys. I appreciate it.
The doctors headed down the hall to her room where they watched her, made dosage changes and still were left scratching their heads. They had a new stack of question, flashcards, and other "impossibles" for Tina today. They rolled their eyes and sighed skeptically until she got them right; repeatedly. And yet, she was elusive to the simple workings of “today”. She was able to perform most tasks they gave her ,although there were times when she seemed to only dabble in reality. She might be able to put the dishes away or take the trash out but to answer and converse on the phone or shop in a market where she might have to ask questions; she failed. Initially, they dismissed her behavior as shock to the sudden loss of her son. The incident had been brutal. She had somehow managed to ward off a brutal attack from her abusive ex-boyfriend and managed to drag both herself and her small son from the burning building he’d left in his wake. She was the only survivor…if they could call it that. She was listless, unresponsive for so very long they had almost given up. Then she had tried to swallow a ton of meds stolen from the patients all over the floor. They had fought for their little Nostradamus. She had shown a propensity for “fortune telling” as they joked. They asked her impossible questions; well above her simple education which she always answered; the next morning. She even predicted accidents and deaths of those close to her “study team”. They scanned and tested, finding nothing to explain her behavior or her accuracy. They even tried “blackmail”; letting her know that it was her odd habits that kept her within the walls of the asylum. They showed her their tapes of her, asking repeatedly who she spoke to. Her predictions were over eighty percent correct. They often bowed their heads and discussed that too. Her room was always full of energy and commotion.
She sat in the window waiting for the sun to give up and go away. It was all she could do to focus in her workday. She waited and fidgeted, begging for dusk to appear. Tina began her collecting the same way all the time: “ If today was hard, tell me about it”. She would continue to mutter, laughing sometimes through the night until exhaustion at last permitted her to sleep. Rarely did the conversations venture into light hours but on occasion, people heard her and had seen her swat at invisible hands, quick to giggle “Quit it!” Loony was the verdict in these instances. Most shook their heads sadly and did their own share of whispering. Tina didn’t care. She had to laugh when the doctors got angry because they just wouldn’t listen and simply couldn’t see. It was all right there in front of them; beyond the trauma, the loss; not just the physical but emotional; spiritual. She had talked and talked but no one heard a word. The accident had left scars on the inside and out. Medicine healed some but not all wounds; no different than time she sadly understood. But she had found a way around that pain or rather it had found her. Realizing she was the survivor, she was left not only with the wounds but also with anger and confusion. She yelled at God, threatened and screamed. Nothing. Then she took the pills; all of them to go back and be with him but when even that failed and she was sure hope was gone and then she began to see; to talk, and not just to her son but to all of them.
She now understood even if hecould not come back to her she would never be alone; the whispers and breezes through her room reassured her of that. Like misty Rumplestiltskins they were able to provide the answers to the doctors’ confusing and silly questions. Lord knew she didn’t care what the hypotenuse of a speculated triangle through the extrapolation of the race car versus the drop of a second car from 10,000 feet would be. Often the doctors scoffed while clicking their pens arrogantly and dismissing her statements (Why do you want to worry about that when your son is so sick?) but they usually came back after a while to seek more personal information or achieve understanding on a more gentle yet higher level. She understood they kept her for their own selfish reasons.
When “friends” would come, she often felt jilted of that time not spent with her boy, but she saw their need for her and their want to reach over one last time. Some stayed; lingering softly. Those were the breezes that swirled around her room. Some were a little more friendly and eager to talk to anyone. Those were the ones that often kept her from the phone or interrupted conversations she was having with those like herself. And then there were the others that she had asked to leave; their disquiet and foul tempers being too much for her soul to handle. There had not been many to excommunicate, but she had been strong enough of spirit to know they had to go. They were the cold spots and the chills; even in the 90 degree August days.
All in the window at night she collected voices for her heart until she had lived her life as best she could; to enjoy it and her son again. Her “moving life” was quiet and she kept it simple; content to stay anonymous in a little asylum where she could enjoy her son; ghost or not. When time finally stopped and she was gone for good, the answers remained in the whispers in the halls, the playful movement of things and the breezes that always swirled around in room 510.
I'm dabbling again. I'm doing some research and want to write somethingin this vein but needed to practice. Thanks for being my guinea pigs. It's not bad, but I want to work on it. Let me know what you think; here or in my email per norm.
Thanks guys. I appreciate it.
Monday, May 23, 2011
WPS
Have I forgotten? No. Have I quit? No way Baby. I'm goin like gangbusters and have three weeks left. My times are coming down, my stamina is going up...could it be that I will be ready for Tough Mudder in April?
Anyway, this is a great one. Yes...I know Bruno Bruno Bruno....but he just has that beat. I admit I shake it with all that bongo and thumpin. I'm so glad I run/bike when no one is up/out...I'd hate for there to be witnesses. :)
Soooo we bettah git git gitaway....
Chickah ahhhhh ....
lol
I'm just too dom simple.
Have a great Monday. See you mid week.
Anyway, this is a great one. Yes...I know Bruno Bruno Bruno....but he just has that beat. I admit I shake it with all that bongo and thumpin. I'm so glad I run/bike when no one is up/out...I'd hate for there to be witnesses. :)
Soooo we bettah git git gitaway....
Chickah ahhhhh ....
lol
I'm just too dom simple.
Have a great Monday. See you mid week.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
IN THE SPIRIT
In the spirit
Angie applied lip gloss and smacked her lips together with a loud kissing noise. She jerked her brush through her hair and applied mascara. Tugging her tee down and her bra up, she was ready. She crammed the rest of her weekend gear into her rucksack and flipped the light switch. At the foot of the steps waited her best friend; Carolyn. With enough beer and food in the car to last a week; they eagerly headed out; their high-pitched clamoring railed above the thumping rhythm. The others were going to meet them at the camp site. The sixth annual SLSOOY (SULL-soy” ~ Scare-the-Living-Shit-Out-of-you) competition was under way. Each year this band of five board members, seven councils and select guests met for a weekend of camping and ghost story telling in the woods of Big Hill. They had each researched their own ghost story to share and compete for the coveted trophy: a deer skull that one of the board members had found while hunting in the nearby woods. It was “honored” by the victor with the title of the wining tale scripted in crimson somewhere on the skull. Angie was SURE she was going to win this time. This year was a slim year with only the five board members, two councils and a couple of guests attending. Angie was glad the field had narrowed.
“So, where does YOUR story come from?” Caro asked with her famous big grin.
“No way.” Angie snubbed her friend.
“C’mon. Don’t be stingy. I swear I won’t say a word.”
“Rules are rules.”
“But it’s only my second year! I can’t even contribute. I only get to vote.” She pouted.
“But it will be biased when you hear it. That’s not the spirit of it.”
“Pun intended?” she laughed. “Please Ang? Just the background.”
Angie sighed dramatically but acknowledged that she was dying to tell her best friend what she had uncovered.
“Okay…” she almost squealed “Here we go. Way back in the 40's there was a family that lived out off Chase Road between Cherryvale and Mound Valley.”
“Wait…out by Griffith cemetery?”
“Yeah...”
“Nobody’s been out there for years.” Caro said quietly.
“Yeah Caro; I know and here’s WHY…”
Caro’s friend began to divulge the gruesome tale of the Paddy’s. Paddington was the name but they had been known by the shorter, friendlier derivation. They were an outsider family that came from the Washington area. No one really knew much about them except that they had enough money to buy a considerable amount of land. But as everyone soon realized, they were anything but farmers. The Paddy’s apparently needed quite a bit of help on their land to see the success necessary to keep it. So often, they went in to town to hire scabs and transients. Their eldest son Thomas was slow witted and could only accomplish limited tasks. Their daughter, Melinda, was beautiful and spoiled. Her father adored her (speculation was a little too much). She rarely felt compelled to help her mother who was a hard, rigid woman and the youngest boy Alden was wifty and silly as young boys tend to be. The Paddys had more than 150acres; about thirteen to tend with crops so a couple of good strong men were sought. The problems began with Melinda. She was a little loose in the morals and her father apparently went insane with rage and jealousy to find her “comingling” with the help. That is how the first few hands disappeared.
Then it became a profession. The Paddys discovered that by going directly to the train station in the evenings and picking up transients as help or travelers as boarders; they had an endless supply of untraceable money. They simply trotted their daughter out as bait, offered the stranger dinner with the family and once seated in the “honorable seat” in front of an old canvas partition, bludgeoned the poor man to death and destroyed the body. The belongings, jewelry and money were theirs for the keeping. The money problem was solved and the father’s rage at his daughter’s carnal weakness could be sufficiently redirected. A narrow escape by a would-be victim gave the Paddy’s up. A man had refused to sit in front of the oddly stained evil smelling canvas and upon doing so had angered the family. He was so uncomfortable he dashed from the home and went straight to town, returning in the morning with authorities. The family had moved on. They were never found. Angie stopped talking and glanced at her friend. Caro sat pale and thoughtful.
“Got rid of the bodies?”
“Yep.” Angie nodded crisply, proud of the reaction.
“How?”
“That’s the part I won’t share with you my dear.” And she smiled flicking her eyebrows suggestively.
Carolyn continued to brood for the rest of the ride; fidgeting with her tie-dyed bandana, wrapping and rewrapping it around her hand thoughtfully. Angie knew she had this year’s contest sewn up.
The camp site was about a forty minute walk from the main parking lot. The girls hoisted their gear and followed the map. They found the site but were disappointed to see that even though they were late, they were the first to arrive. A fire was built and the two waited. They drank and laughed and waited.
The call came late. The others were delayed on Highway 169 due to an accident. They still had an hour’s drive and were choosing instead to stop for the night. They planned to arrive early in the morning. Angie wasn’t pleased but didn’t say anything to Carolyn. The night descended quickly and the girls made more noise and drank most of the beer they brought. Stumbling and laughing over the underbrush, Carolyn announced to God and Country that she was going to pee in the woods.
“Watch the ivy.” Angie warned handing her friend the light.
"Nah. Hye dun need ‘at.” Carolyn slurred. “Ima beeee RIGHT back.” And she stumbled off, humming a song Angie couldn’t quite recognize. Laughing lightly, she sat and stirred the fire. She finished off the last of her beer and called out to her friend. Nothing. A little skittish, she took the lantern and shined it out into the darkness. Again; fruitless. Not wanting to venture out into the night alone, she continued to call for Carolyn. She used her cell to call the others, but they weren’t picking up. Reception could be sketchy out in the woods. She was beginning to worry. Fear tickled her belly. She kept the fire going to give off light for her friend, hoping that it was just huge kidney capacity that had kept her this long. The night dragged. Angie dozed sitting in front of the fire.
“Hello?” the voice was soft, cautious.
Angie jumped up, snatching a nearby stick. The fire had all but died and she realized she was buried in the stark, chilly night. A shudder raced across her skin. She bit her lip to keep her teeth from chattering or screaming.
“Yes?” Angie fumbled for the light and shown it on a woman standing demurely in the brush.
“Hello?” she said again and smiled shielding her eyes from the brightness.
Angie stared.
“Your friend? She has fallen. She got turned around and ended up in our camp. Could you come and help her?”
Angie didn’t move. “Where is your camp? I don’t see your fire. “
The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “She was a little tipsy and fell into our campfire. We put it out and wrapped her arm. She burned it pretty good trying to catch herself.”
Angie stood and clutched the lantern. “You go first.” She said
The woman shrugged and headed back quickly. She struggled but Angie managed to reasonably keep up. Disoriented and exhausted she was surprised by her own joy to see the glow of a small fire. Two men sat silently poking at the embers. They looked at her indifferently. The woman gestured and the smaller man one got up.
“Where’s Carolyn?” she asked immediately alarmed.
“She’s just lying down in the tent. She really had a fall. Are you hungry? We’re just about ready to eat some burgers. You look a little frazzled. Long night?” the older man’s voice was a little gravelly and low.
“No. Thanks. But you go ahead.” She sighed and felt her shoulders relax. “You camp here a lot? I’m Angie by the way.” She stared at the fire. A rustle came from the dingy canvas tent behind her along with a stale waft. She winced and rubbed her nose at its unpleasantness.
“Yeah. Been doing it for years.” The smaller man said. He latched on to his burger hungrily. Ketchup and condiments gushed out the sides.
“Alden…” the woman scolded.
“Messy…messy…” he said and wiped his mouth with a tie dyed bandana.
“Call me Paddy.” He grinned.
This? Well, it's simple I know, but I was doing some research and came across a harrowing tale of "The Bender Family". They were in Kansas around the early 1870's and caused quite a ruckus with their murderous tendancies. They were not caught. It is believed they fled to Washington State. Who doesn't like a little campfire tale? To study them was a little spooky so I just thought I'd share the wealth. ;) S'more anyone?
I hope you liked my spin on it. Thanks for coming over to visit. It was nice to see you.
http://www.leatherockhotel.com/BloodyBenders.htm
http://www.prairieghosts.com/bender.html
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=F40B10FF385E137B93C2AA178AD95F428784F9
http://www.francesfarmersrevenge.com/stuff/serialkillers/bender.htm
Angie applied lip gloss and smacked her lips together with a loud kissing noise. She jerked her brush through her hair and applied mascara. Tugging her tee down and her bra up, she was ready. She crammed the rest of her weekend gear into her rucksack and flipped the light switch. At the foot of the steps waited her best friend; Carolyn. With enough beer and food in the car to last a week; they eagerly headed out; their high-pitched clamoring railed above the thumping rhythm. The others were going to meet them at the camp site. The sixth annual SLSOOY (SULL-soy” ~ Scare-the-Living-Shit-Out-of-you) competition was under way. Each year this band of five board members, seven councils and select guests met for a weekend of camping and ghost story telling in the woods of Big Hill. They had each researched their own ghost story to share and compete for the coveted trophy: a deer skull that one of the board members had found while hunting in the nearby woods. It was “honored” by the victor with the title of the wining tale scripted in crimson somewhere on the skull. Angie was SURE she was going to win this time. This year was a slim year with only the five board members, two councils and a couple of guests attending. Angie was glad the field had narrowed.
“So, where does YOUR story come from?” Caro asked with her famous big grin.
“No way.” Angie snubbed her friend.
“C’mon. Don’t be stingy. I swear I won’t say a word.”
“Rules are rules.”
“But it’s only my second year! I can’t even contribute. I only get to vote.” She pouted.
“But it will be biased when you hear it. That’s not the spirit of it.”
“Pun intended?” she laughed. “Please Ang? Just the background.”
Angie sighed dramatically but acknowledged that she was dying to tell her best friend what she had uncovered.
“Okay…” she almost squealed “Here we go. Way back in the 40's there was a family that lived out off Chase Road between Cherryvale and Mound Valley.”
“Wait…out by Griffith cemetery?”
“Yeah...”
“Nobody’s been out there for years.” Caro said quietly.
“Yeah Caro; I know and here’s WHY…”
Caro’s friend began to divulge the gruesome tale of the Paddy’s. Paddington was the name but they had been known by the shorter, friendlier derivation. They were an outsider family that came from the Washington area. No one really knew much about them except that they had enough money to buy a considerable amount of land. But as everyone soon realized, they were anything but farmers. The Paddy’s apparently needed quite a bit of help on their land to see the success necessary to keep it. So often, they went in to town to hire scabs and transients. Their eldest son Thomas was slow witted and could only accomplish limited tasks. Their daughter, Melinda, was beautiful and spoiled. Her father adored her (speculation was a little too much). She rarely felt compelled to help her mother who was a hard, rigid woman and the youngest boy Alden was wifty and silly as young boys tend to be. The Paddys had more than 150acres; about thirteen to tend with crops so a couple of good strong men were sought. The problems began with Melinda. She was a little loose in the morals and her father apparently went insane with rage and jealousy to find her “comingling” with the help. That is how the first few hands disappeared.
Then it became a profession. The Paddys discovered that by going directly to the train station in the evenings and picking up transients as help or travelers as boarders; they had an endless supply of untraceable money. They simply trotted their daughter out as bait, offered the stranger dinner with the family and once seated in the “honorable seat” in front of an old canvas partition, bludgeoned the poor man to death and destroyed the body. The belongings, jewelry and money were theirs for the keeping. The money problem was solved and the father’s rage at his daughter’s carnal weakness could be sufficiently redirected. A narrow escape by a would-be victim gave the Paddy’s up. A man had refused to sit in front of the oddly stained evil smelling canvas and upon doing so had angered the family. He was so uncomfortable he dashed from the home and went straight to town, returning in the morning with authorities. The family had moved on. They were never found. Angie stopped talking and glanced at her friend. Caro sat pale and thoughtful.
“Got rid of the bodies?”
“Yep.” Angie nodded crisply, proud of the reaction.
“How?”
“That’s the part I won’t share with you my dear.” And she smiled flicking her eyebrows suggestively.
Carolyn continued to brood for the rest of the ride; fidgeting with her tie-dyed bandana, wrapping and rewrapping it around her hand thoughtfully. Angie knew she had this year’s contest sewn up.
The camp site was about a forty minute walk from the main parking lot. The girls hoisted their gear and followed the map. They found the site but were disappointed to see that even though they were late, they were the first to arrive. A fire was built and the two waited. They drank and laughed and waited.
The call came late. The others were delayed on Highway 169 due to an accident. They still had an hour’s drive and were choosing instead to stop for the night. They planned to arrive early in the morning. Angie wasn’t pleased but didn’t say anything to Carolyn. The night descended quickly and the girls made more noise and drank most of the beer they brought. Stumbling and laughing over the underbrush, Carolyn announced to God and Country that she was going to pee in the woods.
“Watch the ivy.” Angie warned handing her friend the light.
"Nah. Hye dun need ‘at.” Carolyn slurred. “Ima beeee RIGHT back.” And she stumbled off, humming a song Angie couldn’t quite recognize. Laughing lightly, she sat and stirred the fire. She finished off the last of her beer and called out to her friend. Nothing. A little skittish, she took the lantern and shined it out into the darkness. Again; fruitless. Not wanting to venture out into the night alone, she continued to call for Carolyn. She used her cell to call the others, but they weren’t picking up. Reception could be sketchy out in the woods. She was beginning to worry. Fear tickled her belly. She kept the fire going to give off light for her friend, hoping that it was just huge kidney capacity that had kept her this long. The night dragged. Angie dozed sitting in front of the fire.
“Hello?” the voice was soft, cautious.
Angie jumped up, snatching a nearby stick. The fire had all but died and she realized she was buried in the stark, chilly night. A shudder raced across her skin. She bit her lip to keep her teeth from chattering or screaming.
“Yes?” Angie fumbled for the light and shown it on a woman standing demurely in the brush.
“Hello?” she said again and smiled shielding her eyes from the brightness.
Angie stared.
“Your friend? She has fallen. She got turned around and ended up in our camp. Could you come and help her?”
Angie didn’t move. “Where is your camp? I don’t see your fire. “
The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “She was a little tipsy and fell into our campfire. We put it out and wrapped her arm. She burned it pretty good trying to catch herself.”
Angie stood and clutched the lantern. “You go first.” She said
The woman shrugged and headed back quickly. She struggled but Angie managed to reasonably keep up. Disoriented and exhausted she was surprised by her own joy to see the glow of a small fire. Two men sat silently poking at the embers. They looked at her indifferently. The woman gestured and the smaller man one got up.
“Where’s Carolyn?” she asked immediately alarmed.
“She’s just lying down in the tent. She really had a fall. Are you hungry? We’re just about ready to eat some burgers. You look a little frazzled. Long night?” the older man’s voice was a little gravelly and low.
“No. Thanks. But you go ahead.” She sighed and felt her shoulders relax. “You camp here a lot? I’m Angie by the way.” She stared at the fire. A rustle came from the dingy canvas tent behind her along with a stale waft. She winced and rubbed her nose at its unpleasantness.
“Yeah. Been doing it for years.” The smaller man said. He latched on to his burger hungrily. Ketchup and condiments gushed out the sides.
“Alden…” the woman scolded.
“Messy…messy…” he said and wiped his mouth with a tie dyed bandana.
“Call me Paddy.” He grinned.
This? Well, it's simple I know, but I was doing some research and came across a harrowing tale of "The Bender Family". They were in Kansas around the early 1870's and caused quite a ruckus with their murderous tendancies. They were not caught. It is believed they fled to Washington State. Who doesn't like a little campfire tale? To study them was a little spooky so I just thought I'd share the wealth. ;) S'more anyone?
I hope you liked my spin on it. Thanks for coming over to visit. It was nice to see you.
http://www.leatherockhotel.com/BloodyBenders.htm
http://www.prairieghosts.com/bender.html
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=F40B10FF385E137B93C2AA178AD95F428784F9
http://www.francesfarmersrevenge.com/stuff/serialkillers/bender.htm
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Mommy's in a pickle
This is a shortie but it is just so funny to me; giggle and point? Ohhhh you betcha Baby. Big time.
Now this is for any parent who has taken their children to the store. We all have that horror story where we are mortified at some action and we leave. Simply leave.
Mine? Well my son was wee tiny and perched in the baby section of the buggy. My daughter was contentedly swimming amongst loaves of bread, canned veggies and other things. She always loved to "sort" the buggy and make it her own private store. We were almost finished. We had made it all the way back to the frozen foods. I was feeling rather empowered as a mom, being able to do this monstrous task. And then I heard:
"Mommy? I don't feel so goo..."
It ended in -goo because that is what shot from her pudgy lil face. She barfed like an open hydrant on a hot day. My son sat there kicking his feet and laughing...at first. Until the SECOND wave sprayed him since I had scooped up my little girl and she had puked into my coat. Ohhhh yes. INTO. Into meaning pockets, sleeves and shirt. Did I mention that my coat was tight at my waist so it became an aquarium of sorts; home to floaty bits n pieces. I was HORRIFIED. I didn't know what do to. "Do I stay and clean up? Do I make a run for it? Do I just crumble like the hash browns glaring at me from the skinny cooler?" The executive decision was that I footballed my son, carrying him sideways and ran from the market, my fountainous child still "leaking" from the face into my coat.
*sigh*
I cried all afternoon and switched grocery stores.
Soooooo here is ANOTHER priceless tale:
A mother was shopping with her two youngins. One a baby, seated in the front and a toddler happily tinkering in the bigger basket. Mommy is hustling, racing through the various departments to get as much as she can before the baby time bomb goes off. Been there. Done that. They came upon the bakery aisle and the toddler hopped up to her knees and began to chatter about the yummy cakes through the wheeling prison bars.
"I would like a cake Mommy"
"Those are BIRTHDAY cakes Sweetheart."
"IIIIIII have a birthday Mommy."
"But it isn't today."
"THEY don't know that Mommy and I bet it will taste SO good."
Mommy sighs and keeps circling in the produce section, desperately trying to keep on track. I cruise by giggling to myself, remembering these days; ecstatic it's not me. Continuing my trip, I venture down the international aisle to see instead of a buy one get one, a baby shoe. Again I grin recalling the number of times I returned from a trip somewhere, the kids didn't even have to actually get out of the car, when they had one: one sock, one shoe, one mitten.... Ahhhh nostalgia. I hold the tiny piece of footwear in my hand sadly thinking how hard ( for upwards of fifteen to twenty minutes) I struggled to cram five tiny "piggies" into one of these blasphemous things only to lose it in thirty seconds or less with a wiggle and a giggle. I turned around and began to look for "Mommy". It didn't take me long. I could hear her voice becoming shrill and rakey. "Don't. Stop. Quit. Put that down. Get off of that. Don't climb...." and there it was.
A crash.
I sucked in my lips and for a moment broke out into a prickly sweat. Deja Vous? Rounding the corner, I expected to find an entire shelf at an obscene angle, groceries strewn across (probably rice and jars of pearl onions or Vienna sausages...you know the EASY stuff to clean up) the floor and one very frightened little girl pinned under a huge metallic rack. Nope, she surprised me. She had tugged over the deli pickle barrel. So all over the floor were chubby huge stinking pickles and in the middle of it all was a soaking, stinking little girl spluttering in brine and pickles as big as her toddler arms and legs. I saw mom's shoulders sag. I heard that sigh and she bowed her head. She glanced around and stared at the door. I knew what she was doing. "Do I stay? Do I go? Do I cry here and now?"
She left. I thought about driving across the street to the OTHER grocery store and leaving the shoe at the lost and found. I had a feeling she'd be there soon.
Nothing much. A light one. It feels like forever since I've been here with you. Better next time. 'Kay?
Thanks for keeping up with me these last couple of weeks. I'm in the home stretch. See you soon.
Miss you all.
Now this is for any parent who has taken their children to the store. We all have that horror story where we are mortified at some action and we leave. Simply leave.
Mine? Well my son was wee tiny and perched in the baby section of the buggy. My daughter was contentedly swimming amongst loaves of bread, canned veggies and other things. She always loved to "sort" the buggy and make it her own private store. We were almost finished. We had made it all the way back to the frozen foods. I was feeling rather empowered as a mom, being able to do this monstrous task. And then I heard:
"Mommy? I don't feel so goo..."
It ended in -goo because that is what shot from her pudgy lil face. She barfed like an open hydrant on a hot day. My son sat there kicking his feet and laughing...at first. Until the SECOND wave sprayed him since I had scooped up my little girl and she had puked into my coat. Ohhhh yes. INTO. Into meaning pockets, sleeves and shirt. Did I mention that my coat was tight at my waist so it became an aquarium of sorts; home to floaty bits n pieces. I was HORRIFIED. I didn't know what do to. "Do I stay and clean up? Do I make a run for it? Do I just crumble like the hash browns glaring at me from the skinny cooler?" The executive decision was that I footballed my son, carrying him sideways and ran from the market, my fountainous child still "leaking" from the face into my coat.
*sigh*
I cried all afternoon and switched grocery stores.
Soooooo here is ANOTHER priceless tale:
A mother was shopping with her two youngins. One a baby, seated in the front and a toddler happily tinkering in the bigger basket. Mommy is hustling, racing through the various departments to get as much as she can before the baby time bomb goes off. Been there. Done that. They came upon the bakery aisle and the toddler hopped up to her knees and began to chatter about the yummy cakes through the wheeling prison bars.
"I would like a cake Mommy"
"Those are BIRTHDAY cakes Sweetheart."
"IIIIIII have a birthday Mommy."
"But it isn't today."
"THEY don't know that Mommy and I bet it will taste SO good."
Mommy sighs and keeps circling in the produce section, desperately trying to keep on track. I cruise by giggling to myself, remembering these days; ecstatic it's not me. Continuing my trip, I venture down the international aisle to see instead of a buy one get one, a baby shoe. Again I grin recalling the number of times I returned from a trip somewhere, the kids didn't even have to actually get out of the car, when they had one: one sock, one shoe, one mitten.... Ahhhh nostalgia. I hold the tiny piece of footwear in my hand sadly thinking how hard ( for upwards of fifteen to twenty minutes) I struggled to cram five tiny "piggies" into one of these blasphemous things only to lose it in thirty seconds or less with a wiggle and a giggle. I turned around and began to look for "Mommy". It didn't take me long. I could hear her voice becoming shrill and rakey. "Don't. Stop. Quit. Put that down. Get off of that. Don't climb...." and there it was.
A crash.
I sucked in my lips and for a moment broke out into a prickly sweat. Deja Vous? Rounding the corner, I expected to find an entire shelf at an obscene angle, groceries strewn across (probably rice and jars of pearl onions or Vienna sausages...you know the EASY stuff to clean up) the floor and one very frightened little girl pinned under a huge metallic rack. Nope, she surprised me. She had tugged over the deli pickle barrel. So all over the floor were chubby huge stinking pickles and in the middle of it all was a soaking, stinking little girl spluttering in brine and pickles as big as her toddler arms and legs. I saw mom's shoulders sag. I heard that sigh and she bowed her head. She glanced around and stared at the door. I knew what she was doing. "Do I stay? Do I go? Do I cry here and now?"
She left. I thought about driving across the street to the OTHER grocery store and leaving the shoe at the lost and found. I had a feeling she'd be there soon.
Nothing much. A light one. It feels like forever since I've been here with you. Better next time. 'Kay?
Thanks for keeping up with me these last couple of weeks. I'm in the home stretch. See you soon.
Miss you all.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
I'm running late and in fine harried fashion.
With this being the final week of rehearsals (opening night is Thursday) not to mention baseball games, concerts for band and choir plus the usual events; my ears are ringing with calendar reminders. *sigh* but what a fun and exciting week we have. (I keep telling myself that anyway.) Cheech is away again for BBQ and I have a Holy Communion and subsequent celebration...ohhh I'm tired in anticipation.
That being said, I'll ask for a little reprieve. I'm workin on it but am supposed to be in five different places at any given time. I have one ready, but I'm marinating it. I'll get it out asap.
I hope your weekend was fabulous. I'll look forward to our time together; I'll need it after all this.
Til then.
With this being the final week of rehearsals (opening night is Thursday) not to mention baseball games, concerts for band and choir plus the usual events; my ears are ringing with calendar reminders. *sigh* but what a fun and exciting week we have. (I keep telling myself that anyway.) Cheech is away again for BBQ and I have a Holy Communion and subsequent celebration...ohhh I'm tired in anticipation.
That being said, I'll ask for a little reprieve. I'm workin on it but am supposed to be in five different places at any given time. I have one ready, but I'm marinating it. I'll get it out asap.
I hope your weekend was fabulous. I'll look forward to our time together; I'll need it after all this.
Til then.
Friday, May 13, 2011
That was that
I'm a nature lover. I enjoy being outside either playing in the dirt, or watching life around me ( giggle and point moments aside) But there has been a battle raging in my house or around it. I was valiant and brave but I lost. I know this and I accept defeat with all the salt and grace I can muster. Dammit.
I have been prepping the bistro for the season. I still have to paint the porch, but I'll get there. Regardless, I have been working and gotten quite a bit done. It looks lovely and it is still one of my favorite spots to sit with friends and relax.
Someone else thought it was warm and inviting too. She began moving in with a few little things: straw, twine and dryer lint. I knew she would never get the nest to hold around the base she was using; my chandelier. (It's an adorable little candle chandelier holding eight lights...I know FAHNSAY...shut up you goof) But she was persistent. I let her give it the ole college try for a day or two. Then I pulled it down. "Nope. Sorry Toots, not here in MY bistro." That should have been that.
But it wasn't. Ohhhh no. That "rockin Robin" decided to try again. Now to confess, her progress was fabulous. She really was getting the hang of it. Only THIS time she wove a base and to flip me the "folk" (Is that what you call it in the avian world?) she kicked out one of my glass hurricanes. I found it shattered all over my cushions and table. I grumbled, snatched the broom and cleaned it up. ALL of it. And I pulled her ugly house down too. I'll show YOU. I thought and that should have been that.
But it wasn't. Then she decided to build in my gazebo but higher up. Near the bees. Yeah, they build front row seats to our week long "Extreme makeover the Bistro edition" and I mean to tell you that feathered lil itch not only built a friggin duplex up there, but she hired a mason. I swear see mortar laying in between the pieces of straw and dryer lint. Well she just thought that was that.
But it wasn't. Not to be outdone by what I now see is a mocking bird. (Is anyone else sing Alanis Morrisette's "Ironic"?) I scooched my fireplace over. Just a little; enough to smoke dat witch outta dare unless she had a desire to become ...squab. She ruffled her ticked off feathers at me. I muttered nasty things to her, proceeded to build a bonfire that could have heated the neighborhood and I dumped FUEL on it. (If you know me, you know I don't use fuel to start fires) I wasn't pussyfootin around anymore. MY BISTRO! MY SUMMER SPOT! MINE(...pant pant...can you hear the angry clicking as I type? Good thing my blood pressure is under control.) I'd smoke her lilly white arse out from there, tear down her dryer lint abode and reclaim my summer castle. This was IT!
But it wasn't. I saw little heads pop up bobbling weakly with hunger. I heard tiny chirping as I scooched my fireplace back out away from her. I sat in my chair and watched. She's a good mommy.
That was that.
I have been prepping the bistro for the season. I still have to paint the porch, but I'll get there. Regardless, I have been working and gotten quite a bit done. It looks lovely and it is still one of my favorite spots to sit with friends and relax.
Someone else thought it was warm and inviting too. She began moving in with a few little things: straw, twine and dryer lint. I knew she would never get the nest to hold around the base she was using; my chandelier. (It's an adorable little candle chandelier holding eight lights...I know FAHNSAY...shut up you goof) But she was persistent. I let her give it the ole college try for a day or two. Then I pulled it down. "Nope. Sorry Toots, not here in MY bistro." That should have been that.
But it wasn't. Ohhhh no. That "rockin Robin" decided to try again. Now to confess, her progress was fabulous. She really was getting the hang of it. Only THIS time she wove a base and to flip me the "folk" (Is that what you call it in the avian world?) she kicked out one of my glass hurricanes. I found it shattered all over my cushions and table. I grumbled, snatched the broom and cleaned it up. ALL of it. And I pulled her ugly house down too. I'll show YOU. I thought and that should have been that.
But it wasn't. Then she decided to build in my gazebo but higher up. Near the bees. Yeah, they build front row seats to our week long "Extreme makeover the Bistro edition" and I mean to tell you that feathered lil itch not only built a friggin duplex up there, but she hired a mason. I swear see mortar laying in between the pieces of straw and dryer lint. Well she just thought that was that.
But it wasn't. Not to be outdone by what I now see is a mocking bird. (Is anyone else sing Alanis Morrisette's "Ironic"?) I scooched my fireplace over. Just a little; enough to smoke dat witch outta dare unless she had a desire to become ...squab. She ruffled her ticked off feathers at me. I muttered nasty things to her, proceeded to build a bonfire that could have heated the neighborhood and I dumped FUEL on it. (If you know me, you know I don't use fuel to start fires) I wasn't pussyfootin around anymore. MY BISTRO! MY SUMMER SPOT! MINE(...pant pant...can you hear the angry clicking as I type? Good thing my blood pressure is under control.) I'd smoke her lilly white arse out from there, tear down her dryer lint abode and reclaim my summer castle. This was IT!
But it wasn't. I saw little heads pop up bobbling weakly with hunger. I heard tiny chirping as I scooched my fireplace back out away from her. I sat in my chair and watched. She's a good mommy.
That was that.
Well, it's been a tough long week and we'd have yapped about it, but the server was down so my posts were cast off into cyber space. If you see one, catch it and bring it home will ya? Thanks.
I needed a couple of days to get my thoughts together. A friend of mine has bone cancer that has reappeared in an ugly way. I've been screaming mad and choked with tears. She is a beautiful lady who deserves much more than this. She is someone who is thoughtful and kind. "I wish I could do more" is her tag line as she hauls in meals for people, calls to say hello or just drops a card in the mail. Those words are just scratching at my brain and echoing in my heart. I wish I could do more. And so her battle begins. All I can do is wait and worry. *sigh* I hate this.
So my dears, this is for her.
I just makes me feel a little better.
I needed a couple of days to get my thoughts together. A friend of mine has bone cancer that has reappeared in an ugly way. I've been screaming mad and choked with tears. She is a beautiful lady who deserves much more than this. She is someone who is thoughtful and kind. "I wish I could do more" is her tag line as she hauls in meals for people, calls to say hello or just drops a card in the mail. Those words are just scratching at my brain and echoing in my heart. I wish I could do more. And so her battle begins. All I can do is wait and worry. *sigh* I hate this.
So my dears, this is for her.
I just makes me feel a little better.
Monday, May 9, 2011
I hope you celebrated Mother's Day and enjoyed it; in memories and laughter.
I had one of my favorite weekends ever!
Cheech suprised me with my favorite coffee and breakfast in bed. I got to kayak out on the lake and it was smooth as glass; truly beautiful (one of my best times ever too~can't beat that warriors). I moved on to the spa for some quality me time and came back to spend a productive afternoon in "The oasis", encircling it with a stone wall and some of my favorite flowers. Of course, you know this meant time in the sacred hammock.
My daughter made a fantastic dinner start to finish all on her own: we had a spiced pepper dip with homemade smoked cheeses and crackers, a carribean chicken with red beans and rice and the coup de gras; brownie bottoms with whipped cream and shaved chocolate. Boo came out with my favorite bottle of wine tucked on his arm and asked if I liked the selection for the evening. All of this was topped off with a fabulous bonfire.
The entire weekend was flawless. The weather was beautiful, the company couldn't have been topped...well, unless we could have all been together. (But that's a big fat no on the every twenty minute feeding rule!)
I hope it was nice for all of you moms too. We do a special thing every day. Cheers to us.
I have some things started but this week is killing me already. I know, it's only "Moan-day" but someone has to bitch about it.
"OOO! OOOO! Pick me PICK ME!"
;)
See you soon.
Miss your company
tess
I had one of my favorite weekends ever!
Cheech suprised me with my favorite coffee and breakfast in bed. I got to kayak out on the lake and it was smooth as glass; truly beautiful (one of my best times ever too~can't beat that warriors). I moved on to the spa for some quality me time and came back to spend a productive afternoon in "The oasis", encircling it with a stone wall and some of my favorite flowers. Of course, you know this meant time in the sacred hammock.
My daughter made a fantastic dinner start to finish all on her own: we had a spiced pepper dip with homemade smoked cheeses and crackers, a carribean chicken with red beans and rice and the coup de gras; brownie bottoms with whipped cream and shaved chocolate. Boo came out with my favorite bottle of wine tucked on his arm and asked if I liked the selection for the evening. All of this was topped off with a fabulous bonfire.
The entire weekend was flawless. The weather was beautiful, the company couldn't have been topped...well, unless we could have all been together. (But that's a big fat no on the every twenty minute feeding rule!)
I hope it was nice for all of you moms too. We do a special thing every day. Cheers to us.
I have some things started but this week is killing me already. I know, it's only "Moan-day" but someone has to bitch about it.
"OOO! OOOO! Pick me PICK ME!"
;)
See you soon.
Miss your company
tess
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
HOMECOMING
He squirmed impatiently in his seat. He willed the other passengers who grazed for places to sit and luggage room to park it. This was like herding cats. He rapped his fingers on the armrest and sighed several more times before the sky witches took their places at center aisle for their show.
“Blah blah blahhhhh” he hummed and looked around carelessly. He tapped his fingers some more. When the old biddy next to him cleared her throat and glared, he returned a syrupy sweet albeit fake smile and proceeded to nibble at a hangnail he’d made.
“Let’s go let’s GOOOOO” he muttered.
The flight took off and the countdown began. He fussed with his games and pretended to watch the movie. He closed his eyes but all he could see was her. They slammed open and he continued to search for distractions. Finally, the plane growled to the ground and roared to a stop. He lept out of his seat and climbed over people to get off. There were lots of “Well!”s and “Screw you”s. He didn’t hear them. He just kept moving. He dialed and left a simple message.
“On the ground.”
Not even bothering with the time for it would be stamped when the voice mail was picked up.
He was pleased that he had gotten everything in to one bag. No checked luggage. His car was waiting for him and he all but dove inside.
“Ready?” his driver asked.
“More than. Let’s roll.” And they headed out. He made himself comfortable with a drink and more finger drumming. His driver closed the divider and turned up the music. The city waved goodbye to their limo as they crawled out along the interstate into more sloping land and wider spaces. He found himself breathing more slowly and felt his shoulders give. He was relaxing. The car gently pulled over to the side of the road.
“Where? What are you…” but he tapped the glass to have his driver lower it. He glanced out the window to see her car. She was leaning against it.
“Little girl…do you need some help?” he laughed. She was standing in her mink coat and his favorite shoes; black silk numbers that tied around her slim ankles. She was almost in tears.
“I wanted to surprise you and pick you up myself. And then I hit the damned pot hole and I have a flat. The service won’t be here for an hour. I had reservations.” She pouted.
He got out and ushered her to the car. “Leave it. We’ll call and take care of it later.”
She turned and hugged him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to welcome you home.” And she kissed him lightly on the mouth. He tasted tears and hugged her back.
“You just did.” he soothed and followed her in. They sat next to each other holding hands intertwining their fingers.
“How was your flight?” she asked softly.
“Long.”
“How was your day?”
“Longer.”
They half laughed and glanced out their windows. He reached for her knee, petting it through her silky coat. It fell open to reveal her firm sexy legs. He drew his thumb along the back of her knee enjoying the softness of her skin. She sighed, laying her hand atop his. He leaned in and kissed her ear breathing in her perfume that had been lightly sprayed across his travel clothes this past week. It was intoxicating. He turned more to the side and reached under her coat. There was nothing else in his way. His eyes flashed in surprise.
“Miss?” he whispered
She giggled. “Yes sir?” she drawled and sat up straight parting her legs enough so that he could confirm his suspicions.
“Where are your clothes?”
She gasped and wound her arms around his neck. “WHAT?” She asked in mock astonishment. “Nothing? Oh good LORD they must’ve fallen off when I hit that pot hole…” She leaned in and kissed his chin and traced along his jaw to his ear. “What will we do?” she nibbled.
He turned so that he was on his knees in front of her. He ran his hands across her legs up to her hips; his thumbs gently rubbing circles along the warmest part of her body. She groaned and laid back a little resting her hands once again above his so that she could feel him, not interfere but allow him to reintroduce himself to her skin. Her body burned with desire. She moaned and moved with his touch. Her breath came in soft jagged whimpers along with his name. He loved the sounds she made. He kissed the top of her leg and traced his tongue gently along her flesh. He parted the seam of her coat and sweeping his arms under her pulled her toward him and lay her out along the back of the car. His kiss was eager and hungry. Her skin tasted sweet and warm. He’d missed her body in the time that he was away She arched up to meet every brush of his fingers, her thighs tightening with need. She gasped as the first wave took her her by surprise. Like electricity it shot through her scorching her from the inside. She cried out and pulled away, breathless. He giggled and reached for her once again.
“Where you going so soon?” he cooed and tugged at the furry lapels. She leaned in and kissed him fully. God how he loved the taste of her. They inhaled each other’s ecstacy and began again.
“Oh nowhere. But turnabout is fair play, don't you think?” and her body loomed above him. She began to kiss the buttons open from his shirt. Her tongue was warm and soft as she pulled at his clothes. He scooted back and helped her. His body was hard as a rock and he needed to feel her. Her hands touched him, traced him and engulfed him. He could only moan, paralyzed by the soft strength of her body. She kissed along his shoulders and firmly wrapped her legs around him. She moved slowly only permitting him to slide against her. The heat was unbearable. He whispered against her flesh how he needed to taste her again, to feel her. He slipped his hands along her spine relishing the herd of goose bumps that danced along her skin. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and arms.
“Oh how I’ve missed you” she sighed and let him in. Her body seemed to grab him. He grunted and pushed against her. She gasped and moved eagerly to enjoy the length of his body. He kissed the hollow of her throat and pushed her away to tease her nipples. She bucked against him, purring his name. He could feel every muscle inside of her begin to shake. He pushed again, desperately wanting to be closer to her, in her. She lowered her head and softly bit his shoulder. He caught her mouth and tasted sweat and hunger. She began to move faster with a renewed eagerness. He sat back and clung to her hips. He reached up and pulled her hair so that her face was just above his own. They panted at each other, moving quickly and hard. He winced as the feeling began in his toes; a cold muscle cramp and then it snaked up through his legs and exploded through the rest of his body with a heat that raged and tickled at the same time. He gasped and clutched her. But her own body was quaking with such a desire and intimate pleasure that she almost pushed him away crying out once more. He pulled her down and rained kissed along her glistening flesh. She panted how she loved him. Their breath began to slow, their kisses became more gentle and curious; less aggressive. They tickled their fingertips along each others’ curves giggling over the shivers they created.
The car rolled to a stop, the gravel crunching beneath the all knowing tires. A soft knock tapped the window
“We’re home.”
“Yes we are.” She sighed and patted his chest. She pulled the coat around her and laughed at his disheveled hair and clothes.
“You were mauled.” She continued and twisted her shoe around so it fit better. He quickly pulled things back into place and they slicked hair, smoothed themselves and tried to get out of the car without laughing.
“Welcome home to me.” He smiled wrapping his hand around her waist. His body began to tingle at the knowledge of what wasn’t under the silky coat.
“Dinner? We can still make reservations.” She smiled.
“Maybe later.” And he patted her allowing her to at least get in the door before he wrapped her in his arms again.
Hope you have a good day. Thank you for visiting.
He squirmed impatiently in his seat. He willed the other passengers who grazed for places to sit and luggage room to park it. This was like herding cats. He rapped his fingers on the armrest and sighed several more times before the sky witches took their places at center aisle for their show.
“Blah blah blahhhhh” he hummed and looked around carelessly. He tapped his fingers some more. When the old biddy next to him cleared her throat and glared, he returned a syrupy sweet albeit fake smile and proceeded to nibble at a hangnail he’d made.
“Let’s go let’s GOOOOO” he muttered.
The flight took off and the countdown began. He fussed with his games and pretended to watch the movie. He closed his eyes but all he could see was her. They slammed open and he continued to search for distractions. Finally, the plane growled to the ground and roared to a stop. He lept out of his seat and climbed over people to get off. There were lots of “Well!”s and “Screw you”s. He didn’t hear them. He just kept moving. He dialed and left a simple message.
“On the ground.”
Not even bothering with the time for it would be stamped when the voice mail was picked up.
He was pleased that he had gotten everything in to one bag. No checked luggage. His car was waiting for him and he all but dove inside.
“Ready?” his driver asked.
“More than. Let’s roll.” And they headed out. He made himself comfortable with a drink and more finger drumming. His driver closed the divider and turned up the music. The city waved goodbye to their limo as they crawled out along the interstate into more sloping land and wider spaces. He found himself breathing more slowly and felt his shoulders give. He was relaxing. The car gently pulled over to the side of the road.
“Where? What are you…” but he tapped the glass to have his driver lower it. He glanced out the window to see her car. She was leaning against it.
“Little girl…do you need some help?” he laughed. She was standing in her mink coat and his favorite shoes; black silk numbers that tied around her slim ankles. She was almost in tears.
“I wanted to surprise you and pick you up myself. And then I hit the damned pot hole and I have a flat. The service won’t be here for an hour. I had reservations.” She pouted.
He got out and ushered her to the car. “Leave it. We’ll call and take care of it later.”
She turned and hugged him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to welcome you home.” And she kissed him lightly on the mouth. He tasted tears and hugged her back.
“You just did.” he soothed and followed her in. They sat next to each other holding hands intertwining their fingers.
“How was your flight?” she asked softly.
“Long.”
“How was your day?”
“Longer.”
They half laughed and glanced out their windows. He reached for her knee, petting it through her silky coat. It fell open to reveal her firm sexy legs. He drew his thumb along the back of her knee enjoying the softness of her skin. She sighed, laying her hand atop his. He leaned in and kissed her ear breathing in her perfume that had been lightly sprayed across his travel clothes this past week. It was intoxicating. He turned more to the side and reached under her coat. There was nothing else in his way. His eyes flashed in surprise.
“Miss?” he whispered
She giggled. “Yes sir?” she drawled and sat up straight parting her legs enough so that he could confirm his suspicions.
“Where are your clothes?”
She gasped and wound her arms around his neck. “WHAT?” She asked in mock astonishment. “Nothing? Oh good LORD they must’ve fallen off when I hit that pot hole…” She leaned in and kissed his chin and traced along his jaw to his ear. “What will we do?” she nibbled.
He turned so that he was on his knees in front of her. He ran his hands across her legs up to her hips; his thumbs gently rubbing circles along the warmest part of her body. She groaned and laid back a little resting her hands once again above his so that she could feel him, not interfere but allow him to reintroduce himself to her skin. Her body burned with desire. She moaned and moved with his touch. Her breath came in soft jagged whimpers along with his name. He loved the sounds she made. He kissed the top of her leg and traced his tongue gently along her flesh. He parted the seam of her coat and sweeping his arms under her pulled her toward him and lay her out along the back of the car. His kiss was eager and hungry. Her skin tasted sweet and warm. He’d missed her body in the time that he was away She arched up to meet every brush of his fingers, her thighs tightening with need. She gasped as the first wave took her her by surprise. Like electricity it shot through her scorching her from the inside. She cried out and pulled away, breathless. He giggled and reached for her once again.
“Where you going so soon?” he cooed and tugged at the furry lapels. She leaned in and kissed him fully. God how he loved the taste of her. They inhaled each other’s ecstacy and began again.
“Oh nowhere. But turnabout is fair play, don't you think?” and her body loomed above him. She began to kiss the buttons open from his shirt. Her tongue was warm and soft as she pulled at his clothes. He scooted back and helped her. His body was hard as a rock and he needed to feel her. Her hands touched him, traced him and engulfed him. He could only moan, paralyzed by the soft strength of her body. She kissed along his shoulders and firmly wrapped her legs around him. She moved slowly only permitting him to slide against her. The heat was unbearable. He whispered against her flesh how he needed to taste her again, to feel her. He slipped his hands along her spine relishing the herd of goose bumps that danced along her skin. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and arms.
“Oh how I’ve missed you” she sighed and let him in. Her body seemed to grab him. He grunted and pushed against her. She gasped and moved eagerly to enjoy the length of his body. He kissed the hollow of her throat and pushed her away to tease her nipples. She bucked against him, purring his name. He could feel every muscle inside of her begin to shake. He pushed again, desperately wanting to be closer to her, in her. She lowered her head and softly bit his shoulder. He caught her mouth and tasted sweat and hunger. She began to move faster with a renewed eagerness. He sat back and clung to her hips. He reached up and pulled her hair so that her face was just above his own. They panted at each other, moving quickly and hard. He winced as the feeling began in his toes; a cold muscle cramp and then it snaked up through his legs and exploded through the rest of his body with a heat that raged and tickled at the same time. He gasped and clutched her. But her own body was quaking with such a desire and intimate pleasure that she almost pushed him away crying out once more. He pulled her down and rained kissed along her glistening flesh. She panted how she loved him. Their breath began to slow, their kisses became more gentle and curious; less aggressive. They tickled their fingertips along each others’ curves giggling over the shivers they created.
The car rolled to a stop, the gravel crunching beneath the all knowing tires. A soft knock tapped the window
“We’re home.”
“Yes we are.” She sighed and patted his chest. She pulled the coat around her and laughed at his disheveled hair and clothes.
“You were mauled.” She continued and twisted her shoe around so it fit better. He quickly pulled things back into place and they slicked hair, smoothed themselves and tried to get out of the car without laughing.
“Welcome home to me.” He smiled wrapping his hand around her waist. His body began to tingle at the knowledge of what wasn’t under the silky coat.
“Dinner? We can still make reservations.” She smiled.
“Maybe later.” And he patted her allowing her to at least get in the door before he wrapped her in his arms again.
Hope you have a good day. Thank you for visiting.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
ANNIVERSARY
It felt good take a load off between flights. Her husband reached for her hand as he fiddled with his iPad . Her daughter scratched forgetfully at her sunburn tucking her nose in her fourth book this week. Her son drew contentedly in his sketch pad. She smiled, enjoying the look of her life. The hateful energy crawled in to the room slowly but with a heat that was unmistakable and as her body tingled; unforgettable. She shuddered. She could feel him and began to hunt for him in the crowd. Would she recognize him after all these years? High school was a lifetime ago. The pain in her once fractured wrist wailed yes. Her mouth filled with a salty scream when she realized the nightmare of a man sat two rows across from her; hiding behind his paper. Her stomach wrenched. She thought she smelled that same sickening sweet aftershave that swept upon her as he pounded his requests into her; corrected her. She felt each scar come to life; aching as if it was freshly carved into her flesh. When her husband spoke, she jumped; yelping like a kicked dog. He chuffed a laugh and asked if she wanted a drink. All she could do was shake her head no. Inside, her soul was screaming:
"The most evil man I ever knew is right there! If you leave me, I’ll disappear. Just like he promised. "
But she smiled and held her breath to stop the tears from rushing out. Her children sparked to life, begging for snacks and a pit stop. She smiled sadly as everyone skipped down the corridor. At least they would be safe.
“Goodbye. I loved you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.” She thought sadly and shifted in her seat; planting her feet firmly; waiting for her ultimate reprimand.
He had seen her come through security; slowly following her down to her gate where her little chickens pecked around her. The man held her hand carelessly. He stopped and bought a paper, giving her time to settle. He wanted to be sure he got the best seat; to watch. It took her less time than he anticipated. Her head snapped up as she ripped through the faces in the waiting area to find him. He shook opened his paper, hiding from her view. He blinked, recalling how she could push his buttons, behaving inappropriately and needing reminders of what not to do. Theirs was a relationship that was constantly evolving, thirsting for improvements and she always needed to be “told”. He continued to lazily scan his paper. Maybe she knew it was him. Maybe not. He wasn’t in any rush. He dipped the print and was surprised to see her staring at him. He cocked his head, returning her gaze. She looked lovely. She had worked hard to keep from becoming fat. He had hated her weight issues back then. Many incorrect food choices she had worn but it appeared that she had learned. “Good Girl.” He thought, nodding briskly through a tight smile. She was tan from vacation he guessed but the scar across her nose could still be seen. THAT was because she had questioned him when he had told her she could not go out with her whore friends. He was not tall, but strong. She had been his equal from all her running and gymnastics, so he’d had to punch her low in the gut and then sweep her feet out from under her. Using her hair for a handle, he repeatedly cracked her face along the floor. It sounded like a basketball bouncing in a puddle. He saw his signature all over her body; the worst on along the side of her face. She covered it with long pretty blonde hair but he particularly remembered that lesson. It was how they celebrated their anniversary. He savored her terrified anticipation of their last lesson. He leaned forward and rubbed the spot across the bridge of his nose; a mirrored position of her own horrible scar. He grinned and through his bent knees dangled the hands that had broken the champagne bottle across her face as cut her on their “day to remember”. He had straddled her body and choked her; clunking her head against the floor, trying to crush her neck. It was the one time she fought him. She had gotten away, running to another state, never speaking to him again. He had called her only once to promise that no matter how long it took, she would never be that lucky again. All these years and just shy of their anniversary, he would fulfill his promise.
She dug nervously at her palms, ignoring her fiercely bouncing knees. She couldn’t look away although the sight of him made bile scorch her throat. She swallowed quickly in case she needed to scream for help. Her mind began to race; splashing places to go and playing out scenarios that would help end this lifetime of rubbernecking and terror. Her body humming with fear, she stood and cautiously stepped around their luggage, slipped her purse along her shoulder. She walked the opposite way along the terminal. Surely there would be security milling around; someone to help her. Her heart thumped so hard it caused her to pant. She felt him rise and follow. The tears sprung up and raced down her cheeks. She began to match their sad spatters on the floor with her rushed footfalls. Heading straight for the construction sign, she found herself almost at a jog. There were ropes and plastic tarps, painting equipment and tools but not one guard. She had trapped herself. Her mind scurried and forced her to tug impatiently at the mock curtains, ducking in unseen. Her mind clicked off commands and built the list. The work lights weren’t on since it was Sunday. She kicked out of her shoes and carried them. Glancing quickly through the supplies she found what she needed. Her breath was dashing from her lungs so quickly it made her light headed. Nervous spit dripped from the corners of her mouth. She sucked absently at it and kept moving. She needed one more thing… “Hurry!” her mind hissed. She could feel him gliding up close to her. She felt her bladder quiver and threaten to let loose. She gasped and hustled around the last corner.
He couldn’t believe what she’d done. He stopped briefly to turn and see no one noticing them. Then he smiled and stepped in through the plastic hearing it crinkle like a candy wrapper. “Sweet treat indeed.” He giggled. He could smell her sweat and perfume. His shoes crunched along the grit from the construction. His body was tight and eager; almost unable to believe the luck he’d had today. He couldn’t wait to be the last to touch her. In all of their lessons, she had never thought things through he reminisced sadly. She always made stupid mistakes and now he would make her understand; fully. He hummed their song softly, studying the scruffy tracks she’d made in the dust. He heard her crying. It was almost celebration time. He kicked at the tools left around, picking up a pipe and some extra cable.
“Olly olly oxen freeee…” he sang gently, dragging the pipe along the chalky drywall.
She craned her neck under the mask and little cap she wore. She needed to stay focused. She only had one shot to get it right. The painter suit caused her to slip on the wobbly chair but not before she got off the first swing. She caught him by surprise for only the second time she could remember. His body whirled in the opposite direction. She lunged, swinging wildly and breaking him down to all fours. The pipe skittered away but he grabbed at her ankle; grunting and snarling. She hit him again hearing sharp crack as his wrist snapped.
“Lesson LEARNED” she wheezed through paper.
There was a thick crunch as his skull gave way. He lolled to his side, his eyes straining find her. Blood and swelling tissue obstructed his view and thoughts. She beat him like the piñata she’d been all those years ago; the sobs exploding from her chest with each heave. He groaned and collapsed. Hearing only those two words he’d forced her to say after every single beating. Only when exhaustion had stripped her of all ability to do anything but wretch did she slump next to him. The blood on the painter’s suit was crimson and gooey. It smelled the way her mouth had tasted after each pop in the face he delivered. The hammer was clumped with bits of him. Dragging herself over to the storage closet, she poured the bleach into a bucket and dunked it. She tugged at her latex gloves and placed them in a folder with some neatly stacked papers; work orders. Stripping out of the bloody suit, she proceeded to dump paint thinner on the spots, rubbing them vigorously. It turned pink, then she stuffed it into a paper bag from the floor and carried it out back in to the airport. She stopped at a service counter to fill out an application for a credit card and catch her breath. The loud speaker confirmed a boarding flight three gates down.
“Oh shoot that’s mine. Can I take this with me and mail it in?” she asked sweetly. “Ohhh no. I screwed this all up. I should know better than to rush. Can you shred this since it has personal info on it?”
The woman said she didn’t have a shredder but the business center did and it was on her right just near her gate. She quickly gathered her papers and found what she needed, slipping the envelope through the grinding blades as they ate her bloody gloves. A janitor pushing a cart filled with trash was heading for the back hall to empty his load and was only too happy to make room for one more little bag. She walked quickly back to her seat and rejoined her family.
“Where did you skip off to?” her husband asked leaning in and kissing her. He pulled away noticing her smeared make up and sweaty head. “You alright?” His gentle hands traced her chin. A look of worry crossed his brow. She smiled weakly.
“I’m just tired and I don’t feel well…all of a sudden. I’ll feel better when we get home.”
“Well, just rest on the plane. I don’t want you to be sick for our anniversary.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She said softly and got in line to board the plane.
I hope you liked it. I was pretty pleased even if it is a little bit long. Believe it or not, I trimmed it. Stupid windy writers. :)
Well, I'm glad you stopped by. I'll see you soon I hope.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend.
It felt good take a load off between flights. Her husband reached for her hand as he fiddled with his iPad . Her daughter scratched forgetfully at her sunburn tucking her nose in her fourth book this week. Her son drew contentedly in his sketch pad. She smiled, enjoying the look of her life. The hateful energy crawled in to the room slowly but with a heat that was unmistakable and as her body tingled; unforgettable. She shuddered. She could feel him and began to hunt for him in the crowd. Would she recognize him after all these years? High school was a lifetime ago. The pain in her once fractured wrist wailed yes. Her mouth filled with a salty scream when she realized the nightmare of a man sat two rows across from her; hiding behind his paper. Her stomach wrenched. She thought she smelled that same sickening sweet aftershave that swept upon her as he pounded his requests into her; corrected her. She felt each scar come to life; aching as if it was freshly carved into her flesh. When her husband spoke, she jumped; yelping like a kicked dog. He chuffed a laugh and asked if she wanted a drink. All she could do was shake her head no. Inside, her soul was screaming:
"The most evil man I ever knew is right there! If you leave me, I’ll disappear. Just like he promised. "
But she smiled and held her breath to stop the tears from rushing out. Her children sparked to life, begging for snacks and a pit stop. She smiled sadly as everyone skipped down the corridor. At least they would be safe.
“Goodbye. I loved you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.” She thought sadly and shifted in her seat; planting her feet firmly; waiting for her ultimate reprimand.
He had seen her come through security; slowly following her down to her gate where her little chickens pecked around her. The man held her hand carelessly. He stopped and bought a paper, giving her time to settle. He wanted to be sure he got the best seat; to watch. It took her less time than he anticipated. Her head snapped up as she ripped through the faces in the waiting area to find him. He shook opened his paper, hiding from her view. He blinked, recalling how she could push his buttons, behaving inappropriately and needing reminders of what not to do. Theirs was a relationship that was constantly evolving, thirsting for improvements and she always needed to be “told”. He continued to lazily scan his paper. Maybe she knew it was him. Maybe not. He wasn’t in any rush. He dipped the print and was surprised to see her staring at him. He cocked his head, returning her gaze. She looked lovely. She had worked hard to keep from becoming fat. He had hated her weight issues back then. Many incorrect food choices she had worn but it appeared that she had learned. “Good Girl.” He thought, nodding briskly through a tight smile. She was tan from vacation he guessed but the scar across her nose could still be seen. THAT was because she had questioned him when he had told her she could not go out with her whore friends. He was not tall, but strong. She had been his equal from all her running and gymnastics, so he’d had to punch her low in the gut and then sweep her feet out from under her. Using her hair for a handle, he repeatedly cracked her face along the floor. It sounded like a basketball bouncing in a puddle. He saw his signature all over her body; the worst on along the side of her face. She covered it with long pretty blonde hair but he particularly remembered that lesson. It was how they celebrated their anniversary. He savored her terrified anticipation of their last lesson. He leaned forward and rubbed the spot across the bridge of his nose; a mirrored position of her own horrible scar. He grinned and through his bent knees dangled the hands that had broken the champagne bottle across her face as cut her on their “day to remember”. He had straddled her body and choked her; clunking her head against the floor, trying to crush her neck. It was the one time she fought him. She had gotten away, running to another state, never speaking to him again. He had called her only once to promise that no matter how long it took, she would never be that lucky again. All these years and just shy of their anniversary, he would fulfill his promise.
She dug nervously at her palms, ignoring her fiercely bouncing knees. She couldn’t look away although the sight of him made bile scorch her throat. She swallowed quickly in case she needed to scream for help. Her mind began to race; splashing places to go and playing out scenarios that would help end this lifetime of rubbernecking and terror. Her body humming with fear, she stood and cautiously stepped around their luggage, slipped her purse along her shoulder. She walked the opposite way along the terminal. Surely there would be security milling around; someone to help her. Her heart thumped so hard it caused her to pant. She felt him rise and follow. The tears sprung up and raced down her cheeks. She began to match their sad spatters on the floor with her rushed footfalls. Heading straight for the construction sign, she found herself almost at a jog. There were ropes and plastic tarps, painting equipment and tools but not one guard. She had trapped herself. Her mind scurried and forced her to tug impatiently at the mock curtains, ducking in unseen. Her mind clicked off commands and built the list. The work lights weren’t on since it was Sunday. She kicked out of her shoes and carried them. Glancing quickly through the supplies she found what she needed. Her breath was dashing from her lungs so quickly it made her light headed. Nervous spit dripped from the corners of her mouth. She sucked absently at it and kept moving. She needed one more thing… “Hurry!” her mind hissed. She could feel him gliding up close to her. She felt her bladder quiver and threaten to let loose. She gasped and hustled around the last corner.
He couldn’t believe what she’d done. He stopped briefly to turn and see no one noticing them. Then he smiled and stepped in through the plastic hearing it crinkle like a candy wrapper. “Sweet treat indeed.” He giggled. He could smell her sweat and perfume. His shoes crunched along the grit from the construction. His body was tight and eager; almost unable to believe the luck he’d had today. He couldn’t wait to be the last to touch her. In all of their lessons, she had never thought things through he reminisced sadly. She always made stupid mistakes and now he would make her understand; fully. He hummed their song softly, studying the scruffy tracks she’d made in the dust. He heard her crying. It was almost celebration time. He kicked at the tools left around, picking up a pipe and some extra cable.
“Olly olly oxen freeee…” he sang gently, dragging the pipe along the chalky drywall.
She craned her neck under the mask and little cap she wore. She needed to stay focused. She only had one shot to get it right. The painter suit caused her to slip on the wobbly chair but not before she got off the first swing. She caught him by surprise for only the second time she could remember. His body whirled in the opposite direction. She lunged, swinging wildly and breaking him down to all fours. The pipe skittered away but he grabbed at her ankle; grunting and snarling. She hit him again hearing sharp crack as his wrist snapped.
“Lesson LEARNED” she wheezed through paper.
There was a thick crunch as his skull gave way. He lolled to his side, his eyes straining find her. Blood and swelling tissue obstructed his view and thoughts. She beat him like the piñata she’d been all those years ago; the sobs exploding from her chest with each heave. He groaned and collapsed. Hearing only those two words he’d forced her to say after every single beating. Only when exhaustion had stripped her of all ability to do anything but wretch did she slump next to him. The blood on the painter’s suit was crimson and gooey. It smelled the way her mouth had tasted after each pop in the face he delivered. The hammer was clumped with bits of him. Dragging herself over to the storage closet, she poured the bleach into a bucket and dunked it. She tugged at her latex gloves and placed them in a folder with some neatly stacked papers; work orders. Stripping out of the bloody suit, she proceeded to dump paint thinner on the spots, rubbing them vigorously. It turned pink, then she stuffed it into a paper bag from the floor and carried it out back in to the airport. She stopped at a service counter to fill out an application for a credit card and catch her breath. The loud speaker confirmed a boarding flight three gates down.
“Oh shoot that’s mine. Can I take this with me and mail it in?” she asked sweetly. “Ohhh no. I screwed this all up. I should know better than to rush. Can you shred this since it has personal info on it?”
The woman said she didn’t have a shredder but the business center did and it was on her right just near her gate. She quickly gathered her papers and found what she needed, slipping the envelope through the grinding blades as they ate her bloody gloves. A janitor pushing a cart filled with trash was heading for the back hall to empty his load and was only too happy to make room for one more little bag. She walked quickly back to her seat and rejoined her family.
“Where did you skip off to?” her husband asked leaning in and kissing her. He pulled away noticing her smeared make up and sweaty head. “You alright?” His gentle hands traced her chin. A look of worry crossed his brow. She smiled weakly.
“I’m just tired and I don’t feel well…all of a sudden. I’ll feel better when we get home.”
“Well, just rest on the plane. I don’t want you to be sick for our anniversary.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She said softly and got in line to board the plane.
I hope you liked it. I was pretty pleased even if it is a little bit long. Believe it or not, I trimmed it. Stupid windy writers. :)
Well, I'm glad you stopped by. I'll see you soon I hope.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend.
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