Short Story – Page 16 – The Elephant's Trunk

“Credited for my award-winning fruitcake” was probably the last thing I heard my speed date say before I zoned out, my head hitting the table with an impressive “thud”.

“DING!” went the timer and my arm automatically shot up as I shouted out “Check, please!” Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. “Yeah, I’m crazy alright for agreeing to go along with my friend Nadine’s cockamamie idea of speed dating the day after Christmas …. and she never even showed up!”

I looked up to see my next date arriving – an Elvis impersonator replete with spangled jumpsuit, a ton of hair and heavy cologne. Whoever invented the jumpsuit should be pummeled with one of Elvis’ belt buckles. “Well, hello there, little lady. I do believe fate has brought us together. You are the spittin’ image of my darlin’ Priscilla.”

“Oh Lord! Get me out of here!” my mind screamed. Quickly I jumped up.

“Hey, toots! Number 9! Whaddya think you’re doing? You can’t just break outta line like that!” shouted the hoody-wearing overseer with the pronounced nose. He pointed an accusatory finger at me looking every bit like Charon the Ferryman from the River Styx.

I shoved passed him, walking out into the cold December night. “You are such a pathetic loser” I murmured to myself. “Another wasted night and this time during the holidays! Wonder if there’s anything to do other than just go home?”

Looking around I noticed a movie theater down the street. “Well, better than nothing.” As I got closer I saw the movie was “A Hard Day’s Night” and it was about to start. Cool! I got my ticket and bought some popcorn. There were clusters of people sitting here and there so I chose a secluded seat in the back. I liked sitting by myself, away from weirdos.

Just as the theater lights dimmed, some guy walked in and sat right next to me. “Jeez!” I’m thinking, rolling my eyes. “Of all the seats, you had to choose that one!”

Looking straight ahead, eating my popcorn, I assess the situation. I never know what to do at times like this. Do I change seats and risk him saying something nasty? Do I stay put and pretend everything’s normal? What if he’s a pervert?

“This is all your fault, Nadine” I whispered.

“Excuse me. Did you say something?” asked the guy next to me.

The charming English accent caught my attention; I turned my head slightly in its direction. In my excitement, I immediately began choking as I inhaled a puff of popcorn. The guy sitting just inches from me was a carbon copy of my one true love – George Harrison.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “Here, have some water.”

Finally able to breath and talk again, I said “I’m awfully sorry! You shocked me. Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like George Harrison?”

“All the time. It’s a curse. And has anyone ever told you you look exactly like Priscilla Presley?”

“All the time; it’s a curse.”

We both sighed heavily in resigned commiseration and turned our attention to the movie. We laughed through the whole thing, totally enjoying ourselves and lost in the moment; there was definitely a connection between us. When it was over we left together and decided to get a drink to celebrate the holidays.

We walk to a swinging little bar and who happens to be there? None other than “No-Show Nadine”!

Spotting me and my guy from the movie theater, she came running over, gushing like a schoolgirl. “Oh my God! Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like George Harrison? Giving ‘George’ the once-over, she drooled. “Mighty slim pickings here tonight. Wanna dance, handsome? Olivia won’t mind, will ya, hon?”

Wanting nothing more at that moment than to escape Nadine, ‘George’ grabbed my hand and we ran from the club, laughing and tripping over ourselves just like in the movie.

Maybe I wasn’t a pathetic loser after all!

George Harrison and “Cockamamie Business”

It’s our final edition of
“In The Groove: Sounds Of The Season”
and we’re celebrating the holidays
with something George would definitely dig!
Please stop by and join in the fun!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

This website (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.

Short Story

WHEELBARROWS AND WOODPECKERS: PART 2

December 25, 2023December 25, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Yesterday my MC had just emailed his estranged wife
and was hoping for a reply, a Christmas miracle.
Here’s where we left off. Let’s continue:

※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Push send and cross my fingers that Annie hasn’t changed her email address. Going to bed and will say a prayer for a Christmas miracle…..

I woke up early again today; it’s Christmas morning. I’m anxious and afraid to check my email. Can I bring myself to read beyond the first couple of words? Instead, I decide to wait just a bit and pour myself a cup of coffee. I sit looking out the window as the woodpeckers hop from branch to branch finding their way home.

Did Annie get my email? Will she answer me? I guess I can put off the inevitable for only so long. I decide to check my computer; nothing. My heart is shattered and I crumble onto the chair . What a fool I was to wait so long to reach out to her.

It’s early afternoon now and the luscious aroma of roasting turkey is wafting through every room in the house; I can’t bear the thought of eating Christmas dinner alone. When everything is done cooking, I’ll pack up all the food and bring it to the soup kitchen; at least someone will reap the benefits of my stupidity.

I clean up, get dressed and pour myself a glass of wine. Perhaps I’ll sit by the tree and listen to some Christmas music while the turkey finishes doing its thing. The happy tunes coming from the radio do not match my mood and then, as if by simply willing it to happen, a melancholy song starts up. I never thought I would be spending Christmas like this …. alone, broken-hearted and in tears.

I hastily wipe at my eyes with the back of my hands and turn off the radio. No more music today. Time to see how the dinner is coming along. On my way into the kitchen, I glance out the window at the woodpeckers. Standing by the once useless wheelbarrow, suitcase in hand, is my Annie. She gives me a slow, sweet smile and a little wave.

Without stopping to think “Is this real?”, I flew down the stairs and out the back door. Thank you, God, for second chances.

This is “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” by Diana Krall.

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS,
MY DEAR FRIENDS!
MAY ALL YOUR WISHES COME TRUE!
🎄

This website (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone except with permission. NAR © 2017-present.

Short Story

MONSTROID

December 23, 2023December 22, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s time once again for
The Unicorn Challenge.
Our mission: to write
a story in 250 words or less
in response to the photo prompt.
This is my story and I’m sticking to it.
🦖 🎄 🦕

When our son was still in elementary school, he demonstrated a great ability and clever imagination for art. He had a penchant for cartoon characters of his own creation which he drew on his book covers and all over his school notebooks.

My husband and I encouraged his artwork and we kept him well-stocked in supplies, including a drafting table, paints and copious amounts of drawing pads. His main character was a T-rex called “Monstroid” …. a Jurassic lawman who was not above getting down and dirty.

When our son was about twelve years old, he asked permission to paint Monstroid on his bedroom wall. I had no problem with that; I’d rather he paint his own wall than someone else’s. Thirty-something years ago, graffiti was considered vandalism, not the street art it has become today.

The story of Monstroid grew in my son’s head, along with other dinosaurs, friend and foe alike. It got to the point where every wall in his room was covered with his creations; dinosaurs grazed on one wall while epic prehistoric battle scenes appeared on another wall. I didn’t mind; the boy was hurting no one and I would never suppress his natural ability for art …. just as I would never squash our other son’s talent for music.

Our son is now a television cameraman – another form of art. However, he never lost his love of painting and Monstroid is alive and well on the bedroom walls of each of his three kids.

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-22/12/23

This is Bob Brown with “Santa, Bring Me A Dinosaur”

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone, unless with permission. NAR © 2017-present.

Short Story

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

December 20, 2023December 19, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s six for A Six today,
all coming together to form one story:
One prompt for GirlieOnTheEdge’s Six Sentence Story,
four Fandango’s One Word Challenge prompts and
one photo prompt from Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge.
Yes Siree Bob, that makes six!
🎄 🦌 🎅🏼 🦌 🎄

It was a long time ago, probably 30 years now, but I remember that night like it was yesterday, as if someone had taken a permanent marker and etched the whole event on my brain for all eternity; at the time I was quite active in my church, so much so that I somehow managed to get myself elected president of the parish council, a situation I found myself in because it’s a tremendous challenge for me to say “no” and, as a result, I end up getting involved in projects I’d rather not be doing.

My committee and I were decorating the rectory meeting room and setting the tables for the parish council’s Christmas dinner when I realized the wine I bought for the function had gone missing; now, I am a very organized person, certainly no scatterbrain, and when I found there was no room whatsoever in the refrigerator or freezer for the bottles of wine, I placed them in a covered box in the garage attached to the rectory knowing they would stay safe and cold, so how they could have disappeared was a total mystery.

Faced with the inability of turning water into wine and with no time to go to the store, I decided to check the rectory storage room hoping to find wine left over from a previous dinner and I was rewarded with an entire case of red wine sitting on a shelf in the corner just waiting for me; well, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I saw this new-found wine as divine intervention and placed two bottles on each table, quite pleased with myself for having saved the night at the last minute.

When the priests arrived for the party, they looked around the room in approval, nodding and smiling, but that was short lived when I suddenly saw one priest, Fr. Bob, heading my way and he didn’t look happy which made me wonder what was causing his consternation; now, in my defense, I am not a member of the clergy and have no way of knowing these things but the wine I found in the storage room was not just any ordinary, run-of-the-mill wine – no siree – it was blessed communion wine, meant solely for the purpose of Holy Communion and definitely not for a party, albeit a church Christmas party!

When Fr. Bob asked me (rather belligerently, I might add) how I could have made such a careless mistake, my mind went blank and everything I tried to say ended up sounding like a lame excuse; what was supposed to be a great accomplishment for me as parish council president turned into the most mortifying experience of my life and just when I thought the evening could not get any worse, it did.

The man I hired (from a so-called “reputable” agency) to play Santa Claus went AWOL, leaving his sleigh and a slightly inebriated-looking reindeer abandoned in the snow-covered backyard of the rectory; after a search of the grounds, Santa was found in the monsignor’s car in the garage, drunk as a skunk, passed out in the back seat and clutching my missing bottles of wine …. and if you give me a Bible, I will place my right hand on it and swear that everything you just read is entirely true (except the part about the tipsy reindeer; I added that because I simply couldn’t ignore the adorable graphic accompanying this story).

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

FOWC with Fandango — Permanent

FOWC with Fandango — Mortifying

FOWC with Fandango — Blank

FOWC with Fandango — Scatter

Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #247

This is “The Ballad of Uncle Drank – Santa’s Hammered”

Short Story

WINDOW SHOPPING

December 17, 2023December 17, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Waves of glorious flaxen hair rippled over her shoulders, swaying and bouncing with every high-heeled, leggy stride she took.

Never one to shy away from attention, especially that of the male population, she confidently waltzed down Fifth Avenue toward Saks, stunning in red Jimmy Choo thigh-high boots, a snow-white fur coat, and a single strand of pearls.

Admiring looks didn’t intimidate her; they titillated her, challenged her to be more daring and quite a bit risqué. It was all a game and she loved to play.

As she strolled the avenue, stopping to look at the exceptional Christmas displays in the store windows, she noticed the reflection of a man leaning drowsily against a parked car. Accustomed to men looking her way, she thought nothing of it at first but found herself glancing at his image more often than usual. Sliding her Ray Bans a little down her nose, she gave this mystery man’s reflection a furtive peek. Intriguing.

Repositioning her glasses, she continued window shopping, collecting all the longing glances cast her way and storing them in her bag like so many colorful Christmas lights. Every so often she’d linger at a quaint little shop or gallery, acutely aware of her mystery man shadowing her along the way. Now this was starting to get interesting. Slowly she removed her shades and gave his reflection a long look.

Why not? Slipping her sunglasses on, she turned around to a vision that caught her breath …. from head to toe the epitome of elegance and charm. Raven hair, tanned skin, black cashmere coat draped over his arm, charcoal grey pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, black and silver Art Deco tie and Italian shoes …. not black but the exact color of his suit. Nice touch; the paragon of haute couture.

She smiled. He smiled. She turned slowly, giving him ample time to fall into place beside her.

She continued walking, no longer followed by a mysterious shadow but side-by-side with an intriguing companion. Together they would take the road wherever it led them.

FOWC with Fandango — Exceptional

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Single

This is “All I Want For Christmas” by Robyn Adele Anderson, featuring Von Smith

Join me today for a brand new
Christmas edition of
Name That Tune.
Let’s see who gets it right!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND

December 15, 2023December 15, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s time once again for
The Unicorn Challenge.
This is my response
to the photo prompt below.

And so the time came to pass that the young woman was too heavy with child to continue the journey. They had traveled many miles with still more land to cross and she knew her time had arrived to deliver her babe.

She told her husband she could endure no more of this pilgrimage and, reluctantly he agreed; while it was important for them to return to their hometown, the safety and comfort of his wife and their unborn baby were of the utmost concern. But they were strangers in a strange land and knew no one. The husband stopped at the first house they saw.

The couple waited patiently, the young woman suffering in silence as her baby wrestled inside her, anxious to make an appearance. Finally, the owner of the house answered the door and, holding up a lantern for a better view, quickly assessed the situation. He knew this young couple needed his help.

Quietly the homeowner informed the husband that he had no room in his house for them; the disappointment on the face of the husband was obvious, even in the darkness of the late hour. The young woman tried to maintain some propriety but could no longer stifle her pains of labor and let out a deep, low moan. Both men knew the time for her to be delivered was imminent.

The homeowner hesitated only a second, then led them to a lowly cellar. Apologizing, he offered them this place and they gratefully accepted…..

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-15/12/23

This is “Once In Royal David’s City” (Full HD Libera Boys Choir)

Short Story

LIKE A KNIFE IN THE BACK

December 9, 2023December 10, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The prompt for
Stream of Consciousness Saturday
is to include the words “to me”.
This is my response.

Whenever there’s an upset in my life, I ask myself the same question: “How could this be happening to me again?”

Sometimes I wonder if I’m a total sap to give myself entirely to a friendship and at some point end up getting hurt. I don’t know …. maybe I’m delusional but I expect people to treat me the same as I treat them. Perhaps “expect” is too strong a word; after all, do I really have the right to expect people to behave a certain way just because I think they should?

Someone once told me my expectations are unrealistic and that I can’t “will” someone to act or react a certain way simply because I want them to. Perhaps he was right. I think about his words when I feel hurt or angry.

So, yes, I was hurt once again by a friend going behind my back and lying to me. This leaves me wondering if I bring this sort of behavior on myself or if I’m just unfortunate with some of the friendships I have made?

One thing I simply cannot tolerate is lying. I have a personal pact with myself never to tell lies. I know people lie all the time; is it too much to ask those near and dear not to lie to me?

Writing about this recent hurt is cleansing and I have decided I will put it behind me. What gives me some small amount of satisfaction is the fact that the person who lied to me knows that I know. This friend certainly went to a lot of trouble to cover all the tracks but they weren’t 100% successful. First of all, I am nobody’s fool and I catch on fast. Secondly, when you involve a third party into the plot, things can go horribly wrong very quickly. And last, my friend slipped up by making a comment online which I saw through immediately; as I said, I am nobody’s fool. The plotting and scheming behind my back compounded with the lie is particularly vicious; it was entirely intentional. You can’t get much lower than that.

Well, while I am going through this cleansing period, I am not above admitting that I hope the liar(s) are squirming and feeling guilty about stabbing me in the back. This was a grievous act on their part; could an admission and an apology be on the way?

NAR © 2023
#SoCS

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Dec. 9, 2023

This is “Positively 4^th Street” by Dylan

Short Story

LE CYGNE

December 9, 2023December 9, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s time once again for
The Unicorn Challenge;
this is my contribution.
🦢

There’s nothing quite as poignant as the sight of a dying swan, when her beauty wanes like that of faded silken cloth.

A life of such magnificence she leads, dressed in only the most majestic and royal of attire, bestowed so easily by nature while other breeds look so ordinary in comparison.

Confident in her beauty, she floats like a downy queen; she renders no judgement on the world nor assumes a superior attitude. Hers is a graceful, peaceful existence.

She rises above the tumult and silently, in a sweetly romantic character, will she take to heart a mate for all her life. No other and never another will she need, for they are soulmates of the seas.

With wings and elegant necks entwined, they swim the waters together, no fear, no discord. In unison they fly with wings of angels, ever one with the other.

The finches and skylarks in admiration glance down from the trees and sing to the beauty of the swans.

Their love comes to fruition; their cygnets hatch like tiny balls of feathered fluff.

But now the song of the swan is almost over, come full cycle but far too soon for her mate has fallen victim to the fisherman’s nets and weights and has been dragged unceremoniously to the depths of the lake.

Now she is alone with only a broken heart until the time comes for her to rest and in silence she will close her eyes for one long and final sleep.

NAR © 2023
250 words

The Unicorn Challenge-08/12/23

This is “The Swan/Le Cygne” by Camille Saint-Saens

Short Story

DADDY GOES TO THE MALL

December 7, 2023December 6, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Denise @ GirlieOnTheEdge
has once again challenged us
to write a Six Sentence Story,
incorporating the word “limit”.
This is my response.
🎅🏼

“Now listen up, kids, because Daddy’s had just about enough of this nonsense; I’m at the end of my rope and very close to losing it right here in front of Cinnabon, you hear me?

Every year it’s the same thing with you kids; Timmy, Sally .… I need you guys to get a grip because people are starting to stare, mall security is checking me out and the big guy in the red suit is becoming impatient.

Try to remember what we talked about last night when I read you a bedtime story, how you gotta behave because Santa is watching all the time and he knows when you’re being naughty (like now) or when you’re being nice; if you want Santa Claus to come to our house this year and bring you Christmas presents, you better shape up this minute and stop crying or else you’re gonna get a big fat lump of coal in your stocking!

Sally, I know you want Mommy right now but the last time I saw her she was ducking into Ye Olde Candle Shoppe and she hasn’t come out yet …. as if we really need more goddamn candles that smell like fruit cake and reindeer balls …. it ain’t normal, I’m telling you; look, we’re next in line to see Santa so everybody settle down, stop crying and when we’re all done we’ll go down to the food court and get ice cream at Baskin Robbins, ok?

Hold on a second, kids, cos one of the elves is putting up a sign and I wanna see what it says; whoa, whoa, whoa …. wait up there, pal …. what’s with the sign?

Ok, change of plans, kids …. Santa’s taking a lunch break and won’t be back till 3:00 so we’re gonna go hunt down Mommy in the friggin’ candle store and then we’re gonna go home where Daddy can watch Sunday football and have a couple of cold ones and Mommy can bring you back to the mall tomorrow while I’m at the office; Timmy, Sally …. for fuck’s sake …. that’s enough now cos Daddy’s good and pissed and has reached his limit …. so stop with the damn crying or I’ll really give you something to cry about!”

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

FOWC with Fandango — Grip

Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – Red!

FOWC with Fandango — Normal

This is Bob Rivers & Twisted Christmas with “I Am Santa Claus”

It’s Birthday Thursday today
at The Rhythm Section.
Stop by and see who’s
celebrating a birthday!
No fuss, no muss;
just wall-to-wall-music!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

LONGYEARBYEN

December 2, 2023December 2, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s time once again for The Unicorn Challenge,
and oh, what a challenge it was this time!
Here is my response to the photo prompt below.

Little Arvid was just a wee babe when his parents were tragically killed in a sledding accident. The only family he had was his Uncle Gunnar and Aunt Sigrid, who happily took him in to live with them. They were childless and lovingly raised their nephew.

Gunnar and Sigrid were little people, married for so long, neither one could recollect; their devotion was so rare, it kept them young. In fact they hadn’t aged at all since the day they married!

They lived in a tiny house in the world’s northernmost town of Longyearbyen, just 650 miles from the North Pole.

As Arvid grew, it became obvious that he, too, would be a little person; this was no problem because almost everyone in the town of Longyearbyen was a little person.

When Arvid reached the age of 8, Gunnar and Sigrid knew it was time for “the talk”. With great care they led Arvid into a small privy which was so secluded, Arvid had never seen it before. There was an imposing teal blue safe inside …. how very curious! Arvid was even more surprised when Uncle Gunnar opened the safe’s door to find it led directly outdoors!

The little family hopped on a long sled parked outside and sped down the snowy mountains until they reached the most magical place of all …. The North Pole! Soon, alongside his aunt and uncle, Arvid learned the mystical wonders of life …. helping Santa make toys for good girls and boys.

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-01/12/23

Ho! Ho! Ho! This is “Jingle Bell Rock (Daryl’s Version)” by Hall & Oates, pre-restraining order, don’t you know. Yeah, it is! 🎅🏼

Short Story

SHELTER IN A STORM

November 18, 2023November 18, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Today in The Unicorn Challenge we are asked
to share how this photo inspired us.
This is my response.

Local businesses had taken a great hit during the recession and now the once lively and robust shopping district was nothing more than a ghost town. The barber shop, which was there for years, struggled to stay afloat as did the bakery across the street and the café around the corner.

Among the hardest hit was the exclusive coterie located in the elegant apartments above O’Chester’s Barber Shop – The Arlington, known as one of man’s last bastions, a gentlemen’s club, a cigar lounge, a house of prostitution.

Included in the clientele were politicians, celebrities, business executives and police officials; there was never a fear for the girls who worked at The Arlington or for the proprietress, Madam Josie Arlington.

All the men who frequented O’Chester’s were also clients of Madam Josie. There was a door in the back of the barber shop which opened onto a staircase leading to the rooms upstairs. The Arlington was an expensive ‘$5.00 house’ known for its opulence and beautiful foreign girls who offered exciting and unique talents.

Madam Josie was held in the highest regard for her discretion. Her customers felt safe knowing their reputations would never be tarnished. Josie had the presence of mind to install a private rear door which provided an inconspicuous exit.

Josie was a wise businesswoman; she knew one day she might be forced to call on her clients for help. Keeping an immaculate account of each man’s name and sexual proclivities was her shelter in a storm.

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-17/11/23

This is “Gimme Shelter” by the Stones.

Short Story

IT’S A JUNGLE OUT THERE

November 16, 2023November 16, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Today Sadje is asking us “What do you see?”
Here’s my take on this photo prompt.

“Hold it right there, Bitsy. Where are you going with Sissy’s lion?”

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”

“Ok, but it might make you feel better if you do.”

“Nuthin’s gonna make it better.”

“Nothing, eh? Well, that sounds like a mighty big problem.”

“It is, Grammy.”

“You know, big problems become small ones when you share them with someone.”

“Really?”

“Oh, sure! Why don’t you share your problem with me?”

“Mr. Lion’s ear came off.”

“I see. And you’re afraid Sissy will find out, right?”

“Right.”

“Can I take a look at Mr. Lion?”

“No. I don’t want you to.”

“Not even if I can fix his ear? Remember when I fixed your bunny’s tail?”

“I’m just gonna hide Mr. Lion.”

“Ok, that’s a good idea, Bitsy …. until Sissy comes home from school.”

“Sissy’s gonna be real sad.”

“I think you’re right about that, Bitsy.”

“Can you really fix him, Grammy?”

“Well, I won’t know until I take a look.”

“Ok, here.”

“Hmm. You know, I think I have this color thread in my sewing box.”

“You do?”

“I think so but I have a big problem, Bitsy. I have trouble seeing the eye of the needle to get it threaded. Can you help me?”

“I can do that!”

“Great! Mr. Lion will be good as new.”

“And Sissy won’t ever know!”

“Now just a minute, Bitsy. You still have to tell Sissy.”

“But why, Grammy?”

“Because you were playing with Sissy’s lion behind her back. That’s sneaky and not a good way to behave. You understand, Bitsy? It’s important.”

“I guess.”

“Ok. Let’s work on this together.”

“Grammy, can we have ice cream?”

“We sure can …. just as soon as Sissy gets home.”

What do you see # 212- 13 November, 2023

This is “It’s A Jungle Out There” by Randy Newman:

Please stop by
The Rhythm Section
today as we celebrate
Birthday Thursdays.
There will be ice cream!
🍨
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

PILLOW TALK

November 15, 2023November 15, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s Six Sentence Story time with Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge. Yeah, it is.

“Other” is a word that rhymes with mother, which also happens to rhyme with smother, which begs the question: “Am I a dreadful person for wanting to smother my mother ?”

Mother wasn’t a bad person; there was no physical abuse – just a major lack of tenderness which can leave greater, more permanent scars …. a perfectionist who found it very difficult to show warmth or affection, even to her children; I don’t remember her saying “I love you”, tickling me till I squealed or reading bedtime stories; what I do remember is proudly showing her a drawing I made in school with the inscription “Skyscrapers scrape the sky while butterflies flutter by”…. something my teacher called “highly imaginative and showing great vision” but mother said it was foolishness because butterflies can’t fly that high.

As a teenager I was forbidden to shave my legs but did anyway and not wanting my secret revealed, I wore jeans all the time, even to the beach in the middle of summer which also covered-up the fact that I used a self-tanner which turned my skin orange; mother watched as I scrubbed myself raw in the tub using a mixture of water and bleach – a humiliating experience – but it was at that time she discovered my shaved legs, causing her to explode like a slow gas leak and, of course, I was grounded but it was worth it.

Many days after arriving home from school I would find the contents of my dresser drawers dumped on my bed, simply because mother didn’t approve of how my clothes were folded; if I wanted to sleep that night, I’d have to put all my things away (or push them to the floor, which I often did) and I’d get hell the next day but it was a trip seeing her bulging veins and bugged-out eyes.

Years later when I had kids, mother would pop in unannounced and examine my house like the “White-Glove Lady” checking for dust; if my oven didn’t meet her standards, she would clean it (which, now that I have 20/20 hindsight, was a blessing in disguise because I ended up with a clean oven) and then she would depart as quickly as she arrived, leaving me with a spotless house but never once sitting down for coffee and a piece of pie or stopping to play with my children.

Lately I’ve been having a recurring dream about smothering mother with a pillow and when I wake up, I’m smiling; I guess my earlier question bears repeating: “Does that make me a dreadful person?”

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

FOWC with Fandango — Explode

This is John Lennon & Yoko Ono with The Plastic Ono Band singing “Mother”:

Short Story

A COLD CALL

November 14, 2023November 13, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Hi, I’m calling about your ad.”

Her voice was soft and sultry, as smooth and silky as his finest Maker’s Mark bourbon. The image of a voluptuous goddess with long wavy caramel-colored hair, tanned skin and moist red lips immediately appeared before him. He could see her pearly teeth as she smiled, tantalizingly nibbling her bottom lip. He felt himself getting excited.

“Is anyone there?” he heard her say and roused him out of his fantasy.

“Yes, sorry. I’m here. I was distracted for a moment. There’s something about your voice; it’s very …. familiar” he replied trying to sound nonchalant.

“I get that a lot” she answered, her throaty laugh arousing him again. He could see this woman easily becoming an addiction.

“Are you calling about the apartment or the car?” Please let it be the apartment …. let it be the apartment .… he pleaded silently, picturing her sprawled on his bed.

“The Corvette, of course. No sexy car list would be complete without it, don’t you agree?” She chuckled softly.

There was that laugh again. He had to meet this woman. Today.

“Of course. The ‘Vette’s’ an incredible machine” he said, a bit disappointed that she wasn’t interested in renting his apartment. He had to get her there.

“Incredible sounds about right” she agreed. “And thrilling, too, judging by the photo in your ad. With her open top, she’s as sleek and beautiful as a Corvette was meant to be – a car to melt some hearts and explode others.”

As she spoke, he had a vision of her in the ‘Vette’, top down, driving along the Santa Barbara coastline, her hair loose and wild like crimson flames. She was laughing as she drove faster and faster, her hand teasing the head of the gear shift. She was wearing a short black leather skirt and a low-neck sweater, her perfect breasts heaving with excitement. She smelled of lilacs. His heart was racing, his erection pounding.

Who is this woman? He couldn’t think straight. Snap out of it, dummy!

“So, when would you like to see the car?” he asked. Today, today, today raced repeatedly in his brain.

“Today, if that works for you” came the response he hoped for.

Careful not to appear anxious, he hesitated before answering.

“Hmm, today. My schedule’s kind of tight” he lied “but I might be able fit you in around 4:00. Would that work for you?”

“Yes. I can come anytime.”

Oh God, did she really just say that? Sweet Jesus …. this woman was driving him insane!

“Hold on one sec” she purred. “I just need to check something.”

He waited impatiently for her return. He went over his plan: they’d meet at 4:00, take the Corvette out for a leisurely drive and get back to his place just in time for a “spontaneous” dinner and whatever might follow.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” she said breathlessly. “I wanted to make sure my wife would be available at 4:00.”

Wait. What? Wife? Did she say wife? She was married? To a WOMAN! His passion vanished instantly along with his rapidly sagging manhood.

“Hey, sorry …. I’m getting another call” he lied again. “Hold on.”

Deflated, he pushed the “end call” button.

Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – Flame

Addiction – Word of the Day Challenge

This is Prince and “Little Red Corvette”

Please join me today
for another edition of
In The Groove:
I’m With The Banned.
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

GONE SOUTH

November 13, 2023November 13, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Lie to me one more time, boy, and I’ll toss that mutt of yours right off the cliff” Sidney Granger threatened his stepson, Harry. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again; where’s my compass?” His upper lip quivered into a sinister smirk.

Harry glanced up at Sidney with an indifferent look on his face. “I don’t know where your stupid compass is, Sidney. Have you tried looking up your ass?” Harry quipped, knowing the comment would only make matters worse. He didn’t care; watching his stepfather get apoplectic was worth it.

Harry immediately regretted what he’d said, not for himself but for his dog. Sidney reacted in his usual way – one swift kick of his hobnail boot directed at Harry’s springer spaniel, Charlemagne. The dog sensed what was coming and quickly darted away, baring his teeth and growling at Sidney. Charlemagne remembered the pain of that boot all too well.

“You got lucky, mongrel. Next time I won’t miss” Sidney snarled. “And, boy, you keep calling me by my name and there’ll be hell to pay. You’re to address me as ’Sir’, is that clear?” Sidney turned and angrily walked away. Harry gave him the finger behind his back.

“Sir!” Harry muttered under his breath. “You’re not in the navy anymore, you bastard! Now you’re just an angry impotent nobody who abuses animals and women.” Harry’s eyes turned dark as he thought of the fresh bruises on his mother’s arms and legs. The man had no conscience.

Barbara Granger fell under Sidney’s spell the first time they met. She always had a weakness for a man in uniform and longed for the life as the wife of a highly regarded military man. Widowed for several years, Barbara happily accepted Sidney’s proposal but her joy was short lived when he was forced to retire due to his age before reaching the coveted position of Rear Admiral. Barbara’s disappointment paled in comparison to Sidney’s humiliation and indignation.

Now Sidney vented his frustration and disillusionment on Barbara and Charlemagne. He tried several times to dominate Harry but the boy’s resilience and stubborn dismissiveness caused Sidney to feel weak and powerless – a role he was not familiar with. He wanted nothing more than to wring Harry’s neck. He knew there was more to the boy than met the eye. Harry would not succumb easily, if at all, and that concept enraged Sidney.

Harry waited until Sidney was far enough away before he whistled for Charlemagne. The two friends walked to a secluded bower on the other side of the large garden. Harry reached into his pocket for his treasured penknife, one of the few possessions he had from his late father. He looked for the small marker he’d carved in a tree, crouched down and snapped open the knife.

Charlemagne sat quietly in the shade as Harry carefully cut a circle in the moss-covered ground, then painstakingly began to dig until the blade of his knife made contact with a rock he had buried. Harry wiped the knife clean and folded it closed, slipping it back into his pocket. He removed the rock and placed it to his side. Reaching into the hole Harry retrieved a dirty burlap pouch and gently loosened the drawstring to reveal Sidney’s precious compass. Even in the shade of the willow tree the compass gleamed.

Just then Charlemagne began growling and barking; instinctively Harry knew Sidney was standing behind him.

“You thieving little liar!” Sidney spat out furiously. Harry reached for the rock but Sidney kicked it out of Harry’s hand, causing him to cry out in pain. Harry managed to whistle and Charlemagne lunged at Sidney with a force so powerful he fell backwards. The spaniel sank his teeth into Sidney’s neck. Writhing on the ground, Sidney managed to break away from Charlemagne who relentlessly attacked again in an effort to protect Harry.

With arms flailing Sidney edged closer to the side of the cliff but once again freed himself from the clutches of the dog. Harry grabbed the rock from the ground and with a mighty force flung it at Sidney, hitting him squarely on his forehead. Stunned and bleeding, Sidney reeled and careened off the edge, bouncing off the boulders on his way down and disappearing into the choppy sea.

Charlemagne ran to Harry who scooped him up in his arms. “Good boy” Harry said soothingly as they walked to the cliff’s edge. The only sign of Sidney was one hobnail boot sticking out of a crevice. Harry realized he was still clutching Sidney’s compass. Glancing at it, he smiled slightly. How fitting that Sidney had gone south.

This is “Lies” by the Knickerbockers:

Short Story

THE SLOW LEARNER

November 10, 2023November 10, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

So that was it, then. She finally left him. After all those threats and tearful rants, she packed a bag and left.

Oh, this wasn’t the first time. Every week she’d get into a tizzy, start throwing things around the place, threatening to leave. But she never did.

She’d get as far as the front door, then stop, turn around and run back into his open arms. They’d fall on the bed and passionately make up, each one promising never to fight again, each one swearing their unending love. Always feeding off each other’s desperation.

It never ceased to amuse him, the look of shock on her face when he beat her each time after having sex. What a stupid, insipid cow. She never learned her lesson. The one thing he hated more than her rants was the fact that she was such a slow learner.

But this time’s different. She actually left him.

On the third morning, alone in their tiny apartment, he lit a cigarette and stared out the window. That’s when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. So, she couldn’t stay away after all. He didn’t even bother turning around when the door opened. He knew one look at her face, he’d want to bash it in.

Just as well. He never saw the gun as she ended his life.

“Police. There’s been a shooting. Send someone round. Yes, the phone booth by Miller’s Road.”

And she hung up and put a bullet in her head.

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-10/11/23

This is Cher and “Bang Bang”

Short Story

CUTTING BACK

November 8, 2023January 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Once again Denise from GirlieOnTheEdge
has challenged us to create a Six Sentence Story
incorporating the word “balance”.
I have used one of my own photos for inspiration.

My mother-in-law Gertrude was a wonderful woman; she raised a family of four kids (including one set of twins) and provided quite well for all of them on one income – her husband’s very ordinary salary for his work in the produce shipping department of the Long Island Railroad – not an easy task but she managed.

She was a homemaker – one of the vast majority of American women in the 1950s who chose not to work outside the house; while doing all the household chores, caring for the kids, attending Mass, going to school meetings and leaping tall buildings in a single bound, my mother-in-law still found the time to cultivate an impressive green thumb – a skill she taught me and one I am now passing on to my granddaughter.

One of the first times I met Gertrude, she brought me up to the enclosed front porch of the house to show me her impressive collection of plants; they were all nature’s incredible works of art – healthy green leaves with swollen, flowering buds – and I was immediately stung by the gardening bug.

Sometime after Bill and I were married, my mother-in-law gave me a plant – a coleus she had rooted from cuttings of one of her own plants; I placed the new addition to my small collection on a windowsill in our apartment and proudly watched it flourish, but one day, to my dismay, the coleus did not look healthy and eventually started losing its leaves and became spindly.

When I told Gertrude about my bad luck with the plant, she gave me some pointers and then said something that I have never forgotten: “Sometimes you just have to be ruthless; cut the plant back, way down to the dirt, remove all the dead stems and give it another chance to grow.”

I’ve be trying to apply that philosophy to my personal life when people or things become too demanding, draining me of my time and energy, pushing me to the limit, overwhelming; balance is not something we find but something we create and there are times when we have to be ruthless and cut back, way down to the dirt, let go of those outside forces dragging us down and give ourselves another chance to grow.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Rascal Flatts doing “I’m Movin’ On”.

Short Story

AN EMPTY EXISTENCE

November 5, 2023November 4, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Jenne has once again thrown down the gauntlet.
This is our photo prompt for The Unicorn Challenge.

There are some people who seem to have everything go their way while others lead the life of Sisyphus – the fellow who was punished in Hades for his misdeeds in life by being condemned to the eternal task of rolling a large stone to the top of a hill, only to have it roll back down every single time.

Let’s talk about Helen Chase. She’s the woman with blonde hair sitting by herself at the center table. Check out her posture. That is not a look of relaxation; it’s total defeat.

Helen was a loner and prepared to lead the life of a spinster; then she met a pharmaceutical salesman named Douglas who swept her off her feet. They married but life with her new husband was choppy at best. Helen dreamed the dreams of new brides; Douglas wanted nothing more than a house-cleaning broodmare. Helen failed miserably at both.

Today is her 50^th birthday and she’s celebrating alone, divorce proceedings having been finalized. No husband, no children. An empty existence.

Little does she know the man to the left wearing a black shirt and holding a red napkin is desperate to meet her but lacks courage. He comes here every day just to look at her. He’s been alone since his parents died. All he ever wanted was a woman to love, one who loved him. Someone to share his life.

He willed Helen to turn around, glance his way. Helen slouched further down, irretrievably immersed in doleful self-pity.

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-03/11/23

This is Brenda Lee performing “All Alone Am I”

Short Story

DOTTIE PESSIN

November 2, 2023November 3, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Fandango gave us a Story Starter prompt and
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge challenged us to write a
Six Sentence Story, being as creative with punctuation as we dare.
This is my answer to Fan’s prompt and Girlie’s challenge. Enjoy!
🎶🎶🎶

One day when I was about nine years old, I was home with my mother when there was a knock on our door and when I answered it, I was very surprised to see Dottie Pessin – our pudgy-handed neighbor from around the corner who rarely made an appearance – standing there in her perpetually stained housecoat, carrying a thin, flat brown paper bag, hair in curlers, and declaring “Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad you’re home from school because I have something for you and I’d like to come in to show you.”

Well, it wasn’t every day that someone came to our door unannounced bearing gifts for me for no reason under the sun, so I was not about to turn Dottie away (I was no fool, even back then), but my mother had now joined us and was somewhat suspicious about this strange, unexpected visit and asked Dottie to explain herself, to which Dottie replied “I was out shopping when I came across this album of kid’s songs and I immediately thought of Nancy, so I bought it hoping she would like it” and clapping her pudgy hands added “I’m very anxious for her reaction so let’s give it a listen.”

Now, I don’t mind telling you this surprised the hell out of me and pleased me no end because I was already madly in love with everything about music and could barely contain my excitement as I reached for my little record player with the image of Brenda Lee on the lid; Dottie apparently shared my enthusiasm and as the music played she kept asking me “Do you like it? Do you like it?” to which I had to admit I did indeed like it very much (seeing as how I was a kid listening to an album of kid’s songs – what’s not to like?).

We listened to one side of the album and, as I was flipping it over to listen to the other side, Dottie exclaimed “Oh, I’m so pleased you like the album but I just noticed the time and the “Edge Of Night” is coming on in 15 minutes so I’m going to take the record back now and be on my way”; my mother, ever in She-Wolf mode, saw the confused and let-down look on my face and was damn well taken aback herself by that strange and sudden announcement by Dottie …. after all, the album was supposed to be a gift …. and my mother questioned Dottie in no uncertain terms “Just what the hell do you mean you’ll take Nancy’s gift back, Dottie?”

Without an apparent thought for others nor the slightest bit of remorse or worry …. not about my mother’s sizzling Sicilian volcano temper nor the sadness building in my eyes …. Dottie replied “Oh, this isn’t a gift for Nancy; I bought this for my friend’s daughter who’s the same age as Nancy, but since I don’t know anything about little girls (never having had any myself) and the things they like, I wanted to run it by Nancy first to get her opinion, just to make sure it was a good gift and my friend’s daughter wouldn’t be disappointed”, and with that, Dottie Pessin …. our pudgy-handed neighbor from around the corner who rarely made an appearance …. patted the curlers in her hair, took her thin, flat brown paper bag with the album of kid’s songs inside, held it tightly against her perpetually stained housecoat and bounced out our house like the giant green Grinch helium balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade without so much as a pudgy-handed wave or a glance over her shoulder to spy a regret-filled teardrop fall onto my purple Daisy Duck sweater (because all the other girls wore Minnie Mouse sweaters and I was never like all the other girls).

Now, you may be asking yourself “Could something this bizarre really be true and how could that woman screw with a little girl’s feelings like that?” and I will tell you that it most certainly is true – every pitiful word; I have no idea how someone could be so unaware and insensitive (unless they have their head so far up their ass they can smell Brylcreem) but, after 60-plus years, I still remember that surreal afternoon with Dottie Pessin like it was yesterday and, being a smart cookie for a 9 year old, I had the same thought about Dottie back then as I have this very moment: “What a stupid bitch!” 🌋

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

Fandango’s Story Starter #121

This is the Rolling Stones performing “Bitch” …. as if anything else would do!

It’s time to celebrate
Birthday Thursdays
over at The Rhythm Section.
No fuss, no muss –
just wall-to-wall music.
Stop by for some cake and sympathy!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

I LOVE IT WHEN YOU SCREAM

October 30, 2023October 30, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Are you coming or not?” Carl demanded as he took a few steps further into the haunted house at the Springwood Halloween Fair.

Sharon stood there fiddling with the drawstring of her hoodie. She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“I’m really scared of these places, Carl. I mean, they terrify me. I don’t want to do this.” And the tears came.

This was nothing new to Carl; Sharon hid behind her hands when she tried to watch “The Walking Dead” with him in the comfort of their own living room. He rolled his eyes, tired of Sharon’s childish fears of creatures that don’t exist.

“Look, babe, as I told you a dozen times already, everybody knows this is the best haunted house in the county” Carl replied in his usual condescending tone. “My friends at work said it was awesome and even Hal brought is girlfriend Darleen who’s afraid of her own shadow and she thought it was fabulous. I promise, it’s gonna be a blast.”

Sharon could hear screams coming from inside the haunted house but everyone came out laughing and quickly lined up to go in again.

“OK, I’ll do it but you have to promise to take me to see the Taylor Swift concert on the big IMAX screen next week.”

Carl happily agreed knowing there was no way in hell he was going to sit through a Taylor Swift concert. Laughing, he grabbed Sharon’s hand and pulled her into the haunted house.

“Don’t let go of my hand, Carl!” Sharon cried out.

“Sharon, just chill out. Why can’t you get it through your head that it’s all fake, it’s just for show and none of these characters are real? I promise I won’t let go of your hand. Now stop being a drama queen and try to have some harmless fun, ok?” Carl could really be a nasty SOB.

The inside of the haunted house was complete sensory overload; there was constant screaming as zombies, vampires, witches, skeletons, ghosts and hideous slasher movie characters jumped out of doorways, flew into windows, dropped down from the ceiling and popped up through the floor.

The place was madness and Sharon was getting claustrophobic. The only thing that kept her from running out in a panic was the familiar feel of Carl’s hand in hers. She couldn’t see an inch in front of her and there was something popping out at every turn. It was horrifying for Sharon.

Before Sharon knew what was happening, the grotesque image of Freddy Krueger suddenly appeared from behind a wall of smoke and menacingly brandished his deadly bladed glove; Sharon couldn’t take it any longer. She screamed out for Carl and pushed her way through the crowd, grateful that he was still with her.

Once outside, Sharon gulped in the fresh air and blasted Carl. “That was the worst experience of my life! It was terrifying and you tricked me. How could you?? I’m not kidding, Carl. I’m really pissed! Carl!! Are you even listening to me, dammit?”

And when Sharon turned to face Carl, she discovered she had been holding on to his severed arm. The next morning Carl’s body was found in the woods behind the haunted house. He had been sliced to pieces. They say karma’s a bitch.

At least Carl was true to Sharon about one thing that night; he never let go of her hand.

Fandango’s Story Starter #120

Fandango’s Story Starter #120

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Why?

This is “Freddy Krueger Sings A Song” (Scary Horror Halloween Parody)

Short Story

BROKEN PIECES

October 28, 2023October 28, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

How could this have happened to me …. a savvy, street-smart, strong- willed woman of the 21^st Century who has seen and done it all?

Oh sure, I heard the warnings from well-meaning friends. I chose not to put much stock in what they said. After all, this is my life …. not theirs.

I’ve been hurt very badly twice in my life …. once about 14 years ago when I gave my entire heart and soul completely only to have my world crumble about me. God only knows how much I wanted that piece of my life to work. Strange how I’m still holding on to those broken pieces.

The second time was about three years ago. It was love at first sight, as cliched as that sounds, and I fell hard. I was left in shambles and have now come to the realization that if something is meant to be, it will be. It will pass the trials and tribulations of life without having to work so hard at making all the pieces fit. What’s that old saying? You can’t put a square peg into a round hole? That should be printed in giant red letters on all the owner’s manuals we collect in our lifetimes.

Well, I’m at it again. I tried to resist the charm and allure but I’m weak and the pulling forces are strong. I’m aware of the FRAGILE signs and I will be vigilant. I simply cannot resist that table.

Mama’s coming, IKEA!

NAR © 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-27/10/23

This is Patsy Cline singing “I Fall to Pieces”:

Short Story

BARREN FIELDS

October 25, 2023October 24, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

I’m writing this letter to you, Mother, knowing it will never be sent; you’re gone now so there is no one to send it to but still, some words needed to be said.

We scattered your ashes by that old tree that stands alone in a barren field, the tree you always compared yourself to whenever we drove by; how many times did I have to hear you make a comment about that damn tree?

It was rough growing up thinking I was unloved by you and there were times I hated you for that; for years I thought it was something I had done but now realize it was something you couldn’t do – let your guard down and your emotions out and show me a mother’s love.

My teen years were the turning point for me because I got out of the house and freed myself of the strange power you had over me; how I resented you and your aloofness …. so many years wasted …. and now as I look back, I feel sorry for you because you chose to keep yourself deeply rooted behind the walls you built.

I remember once overhearing a fight you had with Dad, an argument about how it was – as you put it – ‘unmanly’ of him to dote over me; that was the only time I saw Dad get angry, shouting at you that he had to shower me with the love of two parents because you were unable or unwilling to express your love.

Well, Mother, I’m happy to say I have a warm and loving family, I’m nothing like you and I will not spend my life wondering how things could have been different if you had torn down those walls you hid behind; now you’re gone, your ashes cast into the wind, and I will be the one who will rest peacefully.

What do you see #209 – October 23,2023

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is an AI Midjourney version of the song “Barren Field”:

Short Story

A BLOODY MESS

October 19, 2023October 18, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Robert hadn’t realized that he’d passed the point of no return until he found himself frantically searching the kitchen for anything that would remove blood stains. After getting an urgent call for help from his brother Daniel, Robert raced over to see what was the problem. Now he was knee deep in a drift of dastardly deadly deeds.

“DISSOLVE IMPOSSIBLE STAINS … TAR, WINE, GREASE, EVEN BLOOD!” read the label on a spray bottle of multi-purpose cleanser stashed under the sink.

“I found it!“ shouted Robert walking back into the parlor. Daniel was still standing over the body of Stuart Barclay, his business partner.

“Great! Gimme that, Bobby. I have to get this blood stain out of Marilyn’s antique Persian rug before she gets back from her weekend in Manhattan. This is her favorite rug; it cost a fortune and can’t be replaced!

“Danny, I think you’ve got bigger problems to worry about than your wife’s rug” replied Robert. “Stuart’s dead! You said it was an accident so why not just call the police?”

“I can’t! It’s not that simple, Bobby. Stuart had evidence against me.”

“Meaning what, Danny?”

“He confronted me months ago. He had proof I’d been embezzling and forging legal documents. Stuart was gonna turn me in and I couldn’t let that happen!”

Agitated, Daniel paced the room. He continued: “I found out that Stuart was having an affair with the wife of our wealthiest and most important client. I had him followed. I have photos of them together. I called Stuart and suggested he come over tonight to talk and told him to use the rear entrance just to keep things on the down low. When he got here, I told him I knew about his affair. Things got heated and he came at me. I sidestepped him and Stuart cracked his head against the mantle. Bobby, if any of this gets out, I’ll be ruined. My reputation as an attorney will be trashed. I need your help, brother! We gotta clean this rug and get rid of Stuart’s body!”

“Embezzling? How could you be so stupid, Danny?” exclaimed Robert. “Ok, look. What’s done is done and there’s nothing we can do about it now. You’re right – we gotta take care of this mess. I’ll scrub the rug; you go see if you can find some plastic sheeting or a tarp. I’ve got a plan.”

By the time Daniel returned with a tarp, rope and rubber gloves, the rug looked amazingly clean. “Good as new! That’s one problem solved” Robert declared.

“And no questions from Marilyn“ quipped Daniel. “Now tell me about your plan, Bobby.”

“Ok, Danny, this is what we’re gonna do. We wrap Stuart in the tarp and put him in his car; you drive his car down the back roads to the ditch at Quarry Road. Take it slow and keep the lights off. I’ll drive my car down the main road and we’ll meet up at the ditch. We can’t be too careful so if anyone happens to be watching the house, they’ll see only me leaving, not you. When we get to the ditch, all we have to do is get Stuart’s body out of the tarp, place him in the driver’s seat of his car, put the car in ‘DRIVE’ and give it a push down into the ditch. Then we’ll get in my car and drive back here. It’s perfect, Danny; it’ll look like an accident.”

“Yeah, that just might work, Bobby! It’s got to work!” replied Daniel. “Let’s do it!”

The brothers snapped on their gloves, rolled Stuart onto the tarp and tied it up; the bleeding from the gash in his forehead had finally stopped. They struggled getting Stuart’s body out the back door and into his car; for a skinny little prick, he sure was heavy! Once they had the body secured in the passenger’s seat, Daniel got behind the wheel and drove off, taking the back roads to the ditch.

As planned, Robert and Daniel met up at Quarry Road. Still wearing their rubber gloves, they lifted Stuart out of the passenger seat, removed the tarp, placed him behind the wheel in the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt. Making sure the gear was in ‘DRIVE’, they pushed Stuart’s car down the ditch and watched it crash into the stone wall of the abandoned quarry.

Tossing their gloves onto the tarp, they balled everything up and stuffed it into one of the old metal trash cans near the quarry. Robert threw a lit match into the can and the duo, now co-conspirators, smoked a joint as the tarp and gloves melted away into nothingness. Robert pocketed what was left of the joint, then the brothers showered the contents of the trash can with sand and rocks to smother any remaining embers. Taking a quick look around, they headed back up to Robert’s car.

Everything went off without a hitch and for the first time that night they relaxed. Once back at Daniel’s house, Robert cautioned his brother to speak about this to no one …. not his wife, not his priest, not his mistress.

Three days later the police discovered Stuart’s car in the ditch; there was no apparent sign of foul play. There was also no one in the car nor anyone nearby, dead or alive.

That evening Daniel got a call. “Hey, partner. You’re a bigger loser than I could have imagined! We’ve got some unfinished business to discuss, Danny boy.”

Daniel felt light-headed and slumped against the wall. The caller was Stuart and he sounded very much alive.

This is the American rock group Kansas performing “Point of Know Return”.

It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

JULY MORNING

October 14, 2023October 14, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Trigger Warning: The unspeakable events in Israel this week
have left me numb. This is a very bleak tale.
I hope you will bear that in mind
as you read my story today. Thank you.

The church used to be there, across the river.

Rumors were that Pastor Roderick had a squaw named Chenoa who kept house for him. People talked; they agreed the relationship seemed …. peculiar. One October night a few curious boys paddled across the river. Hearing shouting, they crept to the vicar’s cabin and peeked in a window.

Roderick was drunk and yelling at Chenoa. The boys were startled when the vicar threw his glass across the room and reached for a birch cane by the hearth. He grabbed Chenoa and ripped the front of her tunic from neck to hem, leaving her standing naked and trembling. He wrestled out of his waistcoat and began whipping Chenoa’s breasts as she sobbed. Purple welts appeared on her chest and bloody droplets trickled down her belly. Roderick licked the blood, then twisted Chenoa around and entered her from behind. When he was done, he pushed her to the floor.

The boys fled and told their parents what they had witnessed. The next morning the sheriff and a posse rowed out and discovered the church and cabin burned to the ground. Roderick was dead, an arrow sticking angrily out of his neck; he had been scalped. There was no sign of Chenoa.

On a sultry July morning the village women went berry picking by the river. They screamed out in horror at the sight before them: a despondent Chenoa had hanged herself from an oak tree. The papoose on her back cradled a sleeping infant.

The Unicorn Challenge-13/10/23

If you are unable to view the video, which I understand is a frequent problem, it can be found on YouTube. Sorry for the inconvenience. The song is “July Morning” by Uriah Heep. This is a pic of the version I chose for today’s story:

Short Story

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

October 13, 2023October 13, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s a sad commentary when two people are out spending time with each other and yet they are miles apart – or so it may seem at first glance; this is not always true as we will soon learn in the case of Dan and Josephine.

This was the lesser of two evils as far as our young couple was concerned for, you see, people would talk about them no matter what they did and they are still too unsophisticated to grasp the concept that what other people think of them is not their problem.

I know I’m one of the guilty ones when I see two people out together, each one glued to their cell phone, totally ignoring the person they’re with; my first reaction is “how stilted and stifled is this relationship, how bored are these young people that they can’t even carry on a conversation with each other?” and I think of my husband of 50+ years and how we always find something (or someone) to talk about.

Perhaps I’m the one with the problem of being judgmental and jumping to conclusions.

Let’s go back to the case of Dan and Josephine, the young couple in our photo; what people observing them are not aware of is the fact that both Dan and Josephine are deaf and since they have been ridiculed, teased, mimicked and stared at for using sign language while out in public, they have opted to carry on their conversations via text.

Maybe next time we should remember to mind our own damn business and not jump to conclusions; there may be a very good reason – a personal and sometimes difficult decision people are forced to make – and it’s not our place to point fingers …. even if they really are just ignoring each other. 🙈 🙉 🙊

October 4th #1MinFiction Challenge

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

Short Story

KETCHUM, IDAHO

October 7, 2023October 7, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Papa, you said we were going fly fishing today. I’ve been waiting hours! What’s taking you so long?”

Lorian stood at the entrance to her grandfather’s study, an adorable 8 year old tomboy in hip waders, boots, a plaid shirt and golden-brown hair in pigtails, tied with a bow the exact shade of red as in her shirt. Arms folded significantly across her chest, she stared at her grandfather’s typewriter as if wiling it to spontaneously combust.

Ernest turned to face his granddaughter. He spoke to her as though she was one of his cigar-smoking buddies, not like a child, and she loved him for that.

“I’ve got to keep one step ahead of that damn Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He says I don’t know the $10 words. I know them, alright. But there are older and simpler and better words and those are the ones I use.”

He paused but Lorian knew not to answer. She also knew not to tell Papa that her mother was reading Faulkner’s newest book.

“Besides, he’s an alcoholic. Good thing he’s Republican!”

“Papa, can we go fishing now? The fish ain’t gonna wait all day!” and Ernest laughed at that remark. Then he spotted his gun leaning against the wall.

“Forget fly fishing, Lorian! We’re going duck hunting!”

“But, Papa. Mommy says I’m too young to shoot a gun.”

“Well, she’ll only know if you tell. Grab my hat, kiddo. Duck’s ain’t gonna wait all day!”

The Unicorn Challenge-06/10/23

Short Story

THE WHISPERING COTTAGE

October 5, 2023October 4, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“It’s a nice house, don’t you think, Virginia? The property is a decent size. And the fresh air! Just what the doctor ordered.”

Finding the perfect house for his ailing wife was first and foremost on Edgar’s mind.

Encouragingly, he continued: “It’s quite affordable at $5 a month! Downstairs there’s one bedroom, the parlor and a nice kitchen which your mother will put to good use. And upstairs is another bedroom for us with my very own writing niche.”

From their carriage Virginia smiled at her husband, covering her mouth with a handkerchief as the deep cough began again. Edgar hurried to her side and she stared lovingly into his eyes. “Yes, my dear. I think we will be very happy here.”

“Then it’s settled! I’ll finalize the rental while you rest here.” Before returning to the cottage Edgar covered Virginia with a blanket to protect her from the cool April breeze.

Sitting in the carriage with her mother, Virginia gazed at the cottage. “A lovely little home for the three of us, Mother.” Closing her eyes, Virginia pictured their caged songbirds on the porch, a rocking chair nearby where she could rest in the sun and work on her needlepoint.

“Virginia, I’ve been waiting for you“

Opening her eyes, Virginia asked her mother to repeat what she just said, but Maria assured her she had said nothing. Again Virginia closed her eyes and again she heard the gentle voice in her ear.

“Virginia, welcome home”

An unusual peace came over Virginia as she realized it was the cottage whispering to her. “My lovely forever home”, she thought.

They moved in on a beautiful day in May of 1846 and they were happy there. In the evenings after eating a modest meal prepared by Maria, Edgar worked on his poem “Eulalie” while the family cat sprawled across his shoulders and Virginia dozed by the fireplace.

How Virginia glowed with happiness that gloriously sunny day as Edgar proudly displayed the etched wooden signpost which read “POE COTTAGE”.

But even with constant care, sunshine and fresh air, Virginia’s consumption became worse, her waif-like body wracked with fits of coughing.

In January Virginia’s health began to fail rapidly. Edgar stayed by her side day and night, reading to her, until at last on January 30, Virginia heard the whispering cottage beckoning her.

She died peacefully that night in Edgar’s warm embrace as he softly recited –

“This maiden she lived with no other thought
than to love and be loved by me.”

Author’s Note: The Poe Cottage is the former home of American writer Edgar Allan Poe. It is located on Kingsbridge Road and the Grand Concourse in the Fordham neighborhood of The Bronx, New York, a short distance from its original location and about 20 minutes from the house where I grew up. I was privileged to visit Poe’s house many times. The cottage is now located in the northern part of Poe Park and is part of the Historic House Trust, listed on the National Register Of Historic Places, administered by The Bronx County Historical Society since 1975. It is believed to have been built in 1797.

It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

BALLS TO THE WALL

October 3, 2023October 2, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

While reading the real estate section, my wife Jen called out to me. “Hey, Eric, check this out. You know that community we love? One of the houses is available, has everything we want plus a big yard and a pool. And get this – they’re asking only $275,000! That’s well within our budget!”

“Seriously? Those houses usually go for twice as much! Wonder why it’s so low.”

“The agent’s number is right here” replied Jen. “Let’s call.”

After a brief phone conversation, we agreed to meet at the house at noon. When we arrived, the real estate agent explained to us that the previous owners had moved back to England for work purposes and were anxious for a quick sale – even at a loss.

The community was lovely and families were outside enjoying the great weather. The house we had our eye on was even more beautiful than we imagined – not a thing wrong. We asked the agent to make arrangements for an inspector to check everything out and a few days later he reported the house to be in excellent condition. Any doubts were removed from our minds.

“Well, babe”, I said, giving Jen a hug, “looks like we just found our dream house!”

Two weeks later we moved in and everyone was extremely welcoming. In fact, the guy next door came over the first night we were in the house to invite us to a barbecue that weekend. We knew we were going to love this place.

The barbecue was fun and gave us a chance to meet all our new neighbors. Later that night at home we talked about how nice everyone was; in particular, Jen was surprised by how helpful the men were – “Except for that one awkward scene when Barb got annoyed with Gil because his potato salad had too much mayo!” she laughed.

As time went by, we couldn’t help noticing that all the men were house-husbands while all the women went to work. How odd! One night Gil called to invite me to the weekly Friday night poker game at his house and Jen to a ladies book club night at Susan’s.

The card game was going well and I was on a winning streak when out of the blue Gil asked “So, Eric, when are you gonna get your balls snipped?”

Totally thrown off base, I gagged on my drink. “Excuse me??” I sputtered.

“You know. Snipped! We’re all snipped” Gil answered, making little scissor cutting gestures with his fingers. “Dr. Susan does it, smooth and easy. Our wives convinced us life would be much calmer that way and it is. Here’s her number.”

Mumbling hasty excuses, I hurriedly left the game and dashed home, colliding with Jen running home from the other direction.

“Do you know what they do here?!?” she asked, horrified.

I nodded frantically. “And the only things getting cut are our losses! C’mon! We’re outta here!”

I hope you’ll join me today
as I take you on a
new musical journey
In The Groove.
It’s gonna rock your world!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Short Story

DAYS OF RAIN

September 29, 2023September 29, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The early morning air was thick with the smell of rain, the stillness almost suffocating. I was determined to finish my walk and get back home before the storm hit. Still on the historic Leatherstocking Trail which snakes its way through the woods near the old train station, I had about a mile to go.

There was an alien look about the sky, otherworldly and menacing. Tenebrous clouds, clumsy and swollen like an over-full bladder, partially obscured a series of long, jagged slashes of coppery-red. I was reminded of the familiar adage:

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
Red sky at morning, sailor’s warning.”

Nothing about this day bode well.

I stopped to tie back my hair and pull the hood of my jacket over my head, securing it snugly with the drawstring. A few rumbles of thunder warned me not to dawdle; there would be no stopping this rain.

The threat of the approaching nor’easter brought with it the unwelcome promise of flooding – a frequent visitor in these low-lying areas of the Hudson Valley.

I quickened my pace, the only sound the muffled slap of my sneakers hitting the leaf-strewn path.

An impressive bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a barrage of thunder. By now my indignant left knee was barking ferociously and I cursed for having walked so far.

My house finally came into view. The rain started as I climbed the steps to my front door; a forlorn train whistle howled in the distance.

NB – As I am writing this, New York, the place I call home, is in a State of Emergency due to unrelenting rainstorms and severe flooding. This rain is the worst we’ve had in years. Four continuous days of rain last week and now this. The saturated ground cannot hold any more water and it has nowhere to go but up. Exhausted from bailing out our basement, we finally gave up, defeated. No matter what we do, the water will always win.

The Unicorn Challenge-29/09/23

Short Story

HOUSECALLS

September 28, 2023February 13, 2026 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Saunders Drive. On the right corner stood the library, looking exactly as it did the last time I saw it. Diagonally across the street was the church we attended every Sunday, the preacher bellowing about morals and principles. Directly across from the church was a quaint-looking inn with a sign over the doorway – “Welcome Home!” And on the fourth corner was the big Colonial house where the Casey Family lived.

Jeff Casey was my first boyfriend; feels like a hundred years ago. Now there was a prominent shingle on the front lawn which read JEFFREY CASEY, M.D. A doctor! I never should have broken up with him!

My childhood house was a stone’s throw from the Casey’s. Not quite ready to see the old place just yet, I kept walking. About halfway down Main Street, I came across a boho-chic coffee shop/poet’s corner called “Beggars, Cynics and Euripides”. A pretty young woman wearing a rainbow tie dyed hippie skirt was preparing lunch tables outside. The freshly-painted red chairs were staggering in their brilliance. She smiled pleasantly at me and asked if I’d like a table.

“Why not?” I answered as she handed me a menu. I was engrossed in reading the descriptions of the lunch fare when I became aware of someone standing nearby watching me. Glancing over my shoulder, I was pleasantly surprised to see the still-handsome face of Jeff Casey grinning at me.

“Rebecca Gardner! My God! What’s it been – 20 years? What brings you back to town?”

“Jeff! You look great!” and I instinctively hugged him. “Please join me.”

The waitress took our orders for iced coffee and as we waited, that warm, relaxed feeling between us resurfaced.

“Twenty years exactly. My folks sold the house after I graduated college. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m here. Memories, you know?”

We caught up on life – marriages, divorces, etc. – and I mentioned going to see my old house but for whatever reason I was nervous.

Jeff tossed a twenty on the table and said “Come on. Let’s go together.” And before I could think of an excuse, he took my hand and we were on our way.

“The Matthews Family lives here now. Nice people.” Jeff bounded up the front steps and rang the doorbell. No answer.

The old oak tree was standing proud and tall in the front yard. My fingers lightly traced the weathered heart shape with our initials carved inside and we shared a smile and unspoken memories.

We strolled up Saunders Drive to Jeff’s place, neither of us in a rush for this bubble of serendipity to burst. Jess sighed. “Well, I’ve got patients to see.”

“And I’ve got a train to catch” I replied. “Jeff, it’s been too long. Let’s keep in touch.”

“I’d like that, Becca. By the way, I make housecalls.” He smiled over his shoulder as he disappeared inside.

It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Category: Short Story

COCKAMAMIE BUSINESS

WHEELBARROWS AND WOODPECKERS: PART 2

MONSTROID

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

WINDOW SHOPPING

STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND

LIKE A KNIFE IN THE BACK

LE CYGNE

DADDY GOES TO THE MALL

LONGYEARBYEN

SHELTER IN A STORM

IT’S A JUNGLE OUT THERE

PILLOW TALK

A COLD CALL

GONE SOUTH

THE SLOW LEARNER

CUTTING BACK

AN EMPTY EXISTENCE

DOTTIE PESSIN

I LOVE IT WHEN YOU SCREAM

BROKEN PIECES

BARREN FIELDS

A BLOODY MESS

JULY MORNING

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

KETCHUM, IDAHO

THE WHISPERING COTTAGE

BALLS TO THE WALL

DAYS OF RAIN

HOUSECALLS

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