Wordle #157 – Souls for the Choosing.

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This week’s words:

Blood Despair Woman  Seek Seclusion  Willowy (adj.) Lithe, graceful, slender) Beaten Aware Nectarine Scaffold  Wolf Mimeomia ((n.) the frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a stereotype, even if you never intended to, even if it’s unfair, even if everyone else feels the same way—each of us trick-or-treating for money and respect and attention, wearing a safe and predictable costume because we’re tired of answering the question, “What are you supposed to be?”)

It was Monday afternoon and Wayne and Greg were meeting for their afternoon cuppa before the evening rush of souls began. As representatives of heaven and hell, it was their job to direct the souls of the dead to their rightful destination.

Both entities were munching on nectarines. Well for Wayne having teeth like razor blades it was more a matter of him ripping it to pieces within seconds, Greg on the other hand, resplendent in his suit and tie, was careful slicing his up before petitely eating each slice.

“You are so predictably mimeomian aren’t you,” said Wayne with an air of derision in his voice.

“How so?” replied Greg slicing another piece from his nectarine.

“Well you think about it there is an air of the stereotype about you isn’t there. Conservative, proper, correct, boring.”

“I’m an angel of heaven Wayne, it’s how we are supposed to be.”

Wayne rolled his eyes as a signal had come in on their angelic soul metres that a woman had been struck by a bus in the street around from them.

It was their cue for action and they both departed all the while looking at their metres for the tell-tale sign as to which of them would be gathering her soul.

They arrived and it didn’t take them long to seek out the said victim. She lay in a pool of blood, the once willowy woman now a soul ready for the taking.

“Oh dear,” said Greg looking at his soul metre, “she lived in seclusion it says here and had been beaten by a callous and cowardly husband.”

“My metre says she was a scaffold worker and suffered depression and therefore despair comes into my job description, not yours.”

“I have what is called forgiveness in my portfolio and you can never trump that.”

“Don’t mention that trump word, his number will be up soon and all signs point to him being a wolf in …no just a wolf and he’ll bring nothing but disrepute to the gates of hell,” replied a wistful Wayne, “we are thinking another category of hell might be called for when the time comes.”

“Oh, you, hellish types are always thinking up new categories and you get bothered by my mimeomist behaviours. Are you aware of this poor woman in front of you?” said Greg with a feeling of victory in this one instant.

“She’s all yours Greg, you’ve beaten me on this one. Think I’ll retire to the seclusion of Hell’s Kitchen and indulge in some of the universes best sushi.”

“Ok,” replied Greg, gathering up the woman’s bewildered soul, wrapping a halo round her head and sending her flying upward. “Order some for me too, love Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/29/wordle-157/

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Writing Prompt #209 “It’s All in the Title” The Haunting of Cora Applebaum – Sequel

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Cora Applebaum sat with her eyes wide open staring at the screen in front of her. Research into the house she lived in had turned up much more than she expected.

It appeared that before her parents bought the house in Dyson Street it had been the home for four generations of the Casey Family.

The Casey’s had not had a happy time living there. There was evidence of children dying in childbirth, marriages torn apart by war and in the years prior to their owning the house it was thought the Martha Casey had been murdered in the room Cora now occupied.

The more she read the sadder she felt for a family that did it tough through each generation.

Martha Casey had been married to Ronald Casey, a railway worker, and they had three children, Donald, Miriam and Susan. Ronald Casey drank, was often arrested for drunkenness and it was suspected bashed his wife in his drunken rages.

The children would cower in their rooms waiting for him to fall asleep before coming to help their mother.

Martha Casey was found dead one morning, her body at the bottom of the stairs, her skull smashed in.

Her husband claimed she had fallen down the stairs and so the police agreed and left Ronald and his children to their fate.

The children moved away at some point and Ronald Casey was left alone and died one night but it was several days before anyone came looking for him.

So, this was the house Cora Applebaum now lived in. Each night the breathing continued and as time went by Cora adapted to the spectacle of the breathing and the mist and the apparition.

The previous night she had written ‘Incident 37’in which the grey-haired woman had once again appeared and seemed to want to speak but disappeared before Cora heard anything.

Tonight, she was again awake and listening to the breathing. It was stronger than ever before. The mist appeared, the woman came from the mist and stood at the end of Cora’s bed.

Cora hovered under the covers, the woman seemed closer than ever, the cold was more intense. Then the bed moved, not rocked as you might expect but moved and began to spin. Cora was more terrified than ever.

She opened her eyes to see the walls moving in an opposite direction to her bed, not only that but she could feel the bed was lifting off the floor.

At the height of the spin, the woman’s face appeared before Cora’s. It was as clear as could be. The woman opened her mouth and said: “Let me go?” This she repeated several times before disappearing back into the mist as the bed slowed and eventually stopped.

The breathing that began the incident was replaced by Cora’s own breathing as she took stock of what had happened. She was drawing in deep breaths, her clothing and bedding were soaked as always, she lay still unsure what she’d witnessed was over.

Once recovered, in dry clothes and having this time changed her bedding she took out her laptop and began her report.

Incident 38: “The woman spoke to me. She asked to be let go. Tomorrow night when she comes, I’ll tell her to go, that’s it ok, she can go, she can rest in peace.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/28/writing-prompt-207-its-all-in-the-title/

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Writing Prompt #209 “It’s All in the Title” The Haunting of Cora Applebaum – Prequel

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Cora Applebaum arrived home to great excitement within the family. Her parents had been successful in buying the house on Dyson Street and it meant a room for her. Sharing with your sister was no fun she had come to understand and so she embraced the move and all it meant for her.

Cora was given the room next to her parents and her sister Rachel the one down the end of the corridor.

On her first night in the room, Cora couldn’t help but feel a degree of unease. It was a new environment she thought, of course, it would feel strange. She had already unpacked a lot of her stuff and had begun to make the room her own.

In the morning, she noticed one of her posters she had the night before stuck to her wall was lying on the floor. The next morning her dressing table chair had been turned around the wrong way.

Things like this happened every night and the growing sense of unease within the room had not changed. In fact, it seemed to Cora to be getting worse.

By the end of the first week, the breathing had begun. She’d awaken in the middle of the night with the realisation that she could definitely hear someone breathing. She’d turned on her bedside lamp and to discover the room was as it should be.

She alerted her parents to the issue and after a week of them being woken with her screams at first and then persistent calling out they took her to see a psychologist. His recommendation was to get Cora to write down what she saw and heard. That way he reasoned she’d come to understand what she was saying was all about her imagination. This suited Cora as she loved to write.

So, began the creation of a folder on her laptop: ‘Haunted’.

Her initial entries were about things being moved. She found it hard to describe the breathing. At first, she thought it was her imagination but it was becoming a regular feature of her nights.

Like so much that happens she came to accept the breathing until she felt the cold. It descended with the breathing, she found it chilling, her body began to shake, she could all but feel the breath on her.

After twenty entries about the events of each evening, she went back to see her counsellor. He marvelled at her imagination, told her to continue and soon the events of each night would cease.

Cora was no so confident.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/28/writing-prompt-207-its-all-in-the-title/

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Writing Prompt #209 “It’s All in the Title” The Haunting of Cora Applebaum

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The Haunting of Cora Applebaum

Cora Applebaum was awake.

She listened and as clear as the nose on her face, there was the breathing again.

It was measured breathing, each breath deliberate in depth and volume.

She shifted slightly, pulled herself lower in the bed, the blankets up to her eyes.

The room was considerably colder with the breathing, even snug inside her bed she began to feel the cold seeping through her covers at first around her legs then her arms until she realised she was shivering uncontrollably.

Her teeth began to rattle, the fear within her was such that by now she couldn’t breathe. Aware her breath was still, aware her body was now shaking and aware there was nothing she could do, she opened her mouth but nothing came out.

She wanted to scream for help, her parents were in the next bedroom, her sister in the room down the corridor. She was paralysed with fear.

At the foot of the bed, the breathing continued and a mist began to form, the sort of mist you’d expect someone to be manufacturing as if wanting to further intimidate you.

Why she had that thought she wasn’t certain but her eyes were focusing on a shape silhouetted within the mist and seeming to draw closer to her.

Who was this she asked herself?

Why was she being targeted?

What was it about this room that generated within her such fear and from the first day she’d moved in she’d had this sense of unease about the room.

By now the figure was a woman in a white robe, her grey hair tied back, her eyes looking straight at Cora. She stood at the end of the bed and looked down on the terrified Cora.

Then she was gone.

The night returned.

It was as if nothing had happened.

Cora looked about into the dark, all was as it should be.

She realised her body was covered in perspiration, she got up to change. The wet bedding, she could cope with, wet clothing needed to be changed.

Now changed and warm once again, she reached for her laptop and began to write down everything she had seen.

She found the folder: ‘Haunting’ and scrolled to where she had last left off.

Incident 25: “Like the previous twenty-four incidents this one terrified me like they all did. I must do further research into this house and the people who lived here. I am finding it unnerving that now there is a woman within the mist. She looks like she has something to say. Maybe next time she’ll say something or give me a sign.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/28/writing-prompt-207-its-all-in-the-title/

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Saturday’s Mix–27 May 2017 – Counting my “Blessings”.

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When things went, pear shaped at home the park was my place of refuge. My favourite spot was at the far end of the pond and there I sat and looked at the water pondering my life, future and prospects.

My thoughts were interrupted by a wedding party descending on the pond. As it was Saturday afternoon this sometimes happened and I looked across at the bride all smiles in virginal white and the groom looking like a man who had won the lottery.

Then for reasons unknown it all changed.

Something must have been said because I could see the bride look daggers at her new husband, he barked at her and then she returned fire.

Soon the bridesmaid was at the throat of the groom, the bride was in tears and the best man was leading the groom away a safe distance.

There was shouting, then I assumed the bride’s father arrived and took umbrage at the groom and before long there was an all-in fight. Fists were flying, language sprayed across the park, a crowd was gathering, the bride was by now distraught and the mother of the bride swung her handbag at the now defenceless groom.

It did disturb my reverie.

It made me realise my marriage, as crap as it was, didn’t go to shit on my wedding day.

All that came later. “You poor bastards,” I thought, “have you any idea what you are getting into?”

 

 

Written for:  https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/saturdays-mix-27-may-2017/

 

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SoCS May 27/17 – smell

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This week the word to explore is “smell”.

Was that you?

Was what me?

That smell.

No, it wasn’t and I resent the implication that every smell you detect has to be me.

Well, it usually is.

It is not.

Smells in this house and you my love go hand in hand.

It could be a mouse. I’ve been putting out a few baits.

Why are you telling me this?

Could explain the smell is what I’m saying.

The smell is in this room. Very close to you.

Could be a dead one under the bed.

Under the bed?

Yes, it happens.

Not in my house, it doesn’t.

You better have a look then.

I’m not getting under the bed, you look, you put out the baits. You didn’t leave them where the kids might get at them, did you?

I don’t think so.

You don’t think so?

Well, think about it. Paulie is looking poorly, Pete is looking perky and Sarah’s as sour as always.

That’s a relief, they are ok then. So, are you going to check under the bed or not?

Ok, when you say it like that I have no choice, do I?

No, you don’t.

Well, I checked and can you go get the dustpan?

What?

Have him out of here in a jiffy.

Oh my God, under our bed?

Well proves it wasn’t me!

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2017/05/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-2717/

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First Line Friday 26.05.17 – The Stenham House

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This week’s first line: The Stenham house was an ancient locked thing and nothing returned there except for crows. 

There was an irony in the fact the house had been the site of several murders in the years before it was locked up.

And now a murder of crows occupied the place, their cries reaching out across the valley to warn anyone coming close that this was a place of death.

Crows are not welcoming.

It was a sad cold place and people were happy to stay away for fear of disturbing the ghosts whom they knew lingered in the blood-stained hallways.

Now it was home to the crows though some thought they acted more as sentinels of danger, that the house was unfit for humans and should be avoided.

Their cries and ominous presence certainly made that clear.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/26/first-line-friday-26-05-17/

 

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