charmed

It’s been hard to live up to Susan’s standards. She’s been married to her high school sweetheart for forever. She has two children; tall, blonde – impressive. A son who studied to fly airplanes so he could take rich men up and down the coast. A daughter (a high school cheerleader, of course) in college on the fast track to being a doctor. A husband who sent flowers to her work every Valentine’s Day, each wedding anniversary and birthday. They all smiled with big white grins; teeth that dazzled.


When I first met Susan, she epitomized perfection; polite, neat, sure of the rules for living a good life and being a good person; smug in her righteousness.


She ironed her work shirts every morning. I was lucky to pull my clothes out of the dryer right after the cycle stopped and if I made it through the day without spilling coffee on myself, I was doing great.


My exclamations that once contained “Jesus” now had an abruptly aborted wussie sort of jerking “Jeez.” I adjusted my uncouth, uncivilized, barbaric behavior to accommodate the finer sensibilities.


I used to glimpsed a slight sneer over my single-mother, never-go-to-church-on-Sunday, messy life. It’s possible she thought I might have a contagious disease.


“People who use curse words have poor vocabularies.” I heard Susan’s admonishment as a personal criticism. My daughter learned to curse sitting in the passenger seat of my car while I was driving.


I went to pick up my daughter early once from school. While waiting in the hall by the office, the bell rang for class changes and I saw Susan’s daughter running down the hall and I heard her yell, “Fuck you, John.”


In her last year of high school, Susan’s daughter developed a mysterious condition that required many doctor visits. The suggestion that her ailment might be stress related was vehemently poo-pooed. She required so much medication she was not allowed to drive. Even though she lived away at college, when she came home on breaks and vacations, Susan had to sleep with her just in case she had an attack during the night.


Susan’s son, now 27, still lives at home. He has been unemployed for seven months, sleeps until two in the afternoon and won’t take out the garbage. They had an argument a few weeks ago and she called the police because she’s afraid of him. He’s wrecked three cars she bought him.


Susan’s husband lost every job he’s had in his field at every company within a 200 mile radius of home because he always knows more than his supervisors. He had to take a sales job in another state. He accidently took eight pills of a friend’s pain medication when he felt a headache coming on at a party. The EMT’s were a couple of mutual friends.


The longer Susan and I know each other, the less she likes me.

Tales on Tuesday - Charmed

I am putting up the Mr. Linky for this week's Tales on Tuesday - Charmed, so if you wrote a story, you can link (and i will eventually be around to read and visit.)


I have a story, but it's not quite done yet ('cus it's sucky right now.)

Tales on Tuesday – The Late Addition of Hawaii Five-O

Unexpected loverliness from the grandson caused a detour.


In honor of Thom and (in absentia) Quilly and Amoeba.
 
The Legend of the Rainbow Maiden

(* Update [yes, already]: Finding Pam asked, "Is any of it true?" And I answer, “This is a real Hawaiian Legend. As I don't know much about Hawaii - other than reading James A. Michener's book, Hawaii, ages ago – I decided I would strain my brain because no pain, no gain.”)

Kahala, the Rainbow Maiden, born of wind and rain, took two chiefs as lovers. Kauhi was from Waikiki; Mahana was from Kamoilili. Each man wanted Kahala to live in his house.


Kauhi was a jealous man. Since he could not have Kahala for himself, he killed her and buried her.


The owl, Kahala's guardian spirit, searched the earth until he found her body and joined it back with her spirit.


Kauhi killed Kahala again and buried her.


The owl brought her back to life.


Kauhi killed Kahala again but this time buried her under the roots of a great koa tree.


The owl could not save Kahala because the roots of the tree were too strong and could not be moved.


The owl thought Kahala's spirit went to Po, the Underworld, so he gave up searching.


Kahala’s spirit looked for someone who could join her to her body. She had nearly lost hope when Mahana came near her spirit.


Mahana felt the distressed spirit around him. The ghost guided him to the great koa tree. There Mahana dug up the body of his beloved Kahala.


Mahana took Kahala to his older brother who was a kahuna. The powerful kahuna chanted and prayed, but couldn’t revive Kahala. He called two spirit sisters and they guided Kahana's spirit back into her body through her feet while the kahuna performed the chants to restore her life.


Mahana, with the two spirit sisters, nursed Kahala back to beauty and health. But Kahala would never be safe while Kauhi still lived. 


Mahana went to places where Kauhi played sports and gambled. He taunted Kauhi until Kauhi admitted that he had killed Kahala.


Mahana announced that Kahala was alive and in his home. Kauhi insisted she must be an imposter, so he challenged Mahana to present her to all of the chiefs including Kahala's grandfather, Akaaka, the mountain god. If Kauhi was proven wrong, he would be baked alive in an imu. If he was proven right, Mahana would be the one to be baked alive.


Mahana agreed.


Kauhi wanted a test to detect ghosts. His kahunas would invoke spirits from the Underworld to come and take away any ghosts and deliver them to Milu, the god of the Underworld.


Kauhi spread leaves of the ape plant over the ground where Kahala would walk. Any human walking over the leaves would bruise and tear them, while a spirit would leave them unmarked.


The imu was prepared. The king and chiefs were all gathered. Kauhi watched Kahala arrive. Kahala approached the ape leaf path with the spirit sisters, who recognized the test. They whispered to Kahala to bruise the leaves so that the spirits would not be discovered.


Kahala left a wide trail of broken leaves, but Kauhi's chief kahuna said he could still feel ghosts and called for a second test. The kahuna demanded that a bowl of water be brought. It was believed that a reflection of a face in water was the face of a spirit. In his eagerness to catch a spirit face in the water, he leaned over the bowl, showing his own spirit face. Akaaka, the mountain god, grabbed the reflected face in his hands and destroyed the kahuna’s the spirit.


Kauhi was taken. He was baked alive in the imu and his lands and possessions were given to Mahana and Kahala who lived long with a rainbow over their roof.

~ What are Tales on Tuesday? ~

The prompt for next Tuesday, June 29, 2010 “Charmed” suggested by Karen_RN.

If you have a TV show based theme you’d like to suggest as a prompt, mention it in the comments.

If you wrote a short story for today, sign into Mr. Linky.

      

Tales on Tuesday – Mayberry R.F.D.

May Berry had lips as red as cherries. Her maid brushed her long black hair until it shown like ravens’ wings. Her skin, soft and alabaster white, helped create the image of a delicate damsel in need of constant care and protection. Her mother kept a close eye on her. 


Mother had big plans for May. Mother kept her ears open for the most eligible bachelors available in their social circles and even above. Mother was sure May would marry into the peerage as long as Mother could keep May pure and unblemished.


Mother made sure May never went anywhere alone so that her chastity could never be questioned. May did not walk the streets of London Town even with an escort. May only spoke of the weather or the current fashions. May stayed quiet because Mother said no man wanted a wife with her own opinions. At parties and balls, May smiled and nodded and planned. May had to find a way to get away.


May watched for her chance to get out of the house and away from her keepers. Her opportunity came one night in the Spring when a flu brought down almost all of their staff and everyone in the family except her. She waited until dark, dressed in a set of her brother’s old discarded clothes, snuck by Sally, her feverish and sleeping maid, and climbed out of her bedroom window. When she reached the ground, she looked up, amazed at her audacity. She starred in horror as her maid climbed down the trellis after her. The sick girl lost her footing, dangled for a moment then let go, falling to the ground.


Sally whimpered and moaned as she lay atop her twisted leg. May ran for help. It took six weeks before Sally was up and walking with a stick. During all of that time, May’s doors and windows were locked and big, burly guards stood by them. May felt bad about Sally’s accident so she gave up trying to escape. She went along with Mother’s plans but no one offered her marriage.


Mother decided May needed a new wardrobe for the biggest ball of the year. They went to town to visit the dress maker. It seemed like everyone that was anyone was at the shop on that day. Mother haggled with the shop owner over a special bolt of fabric. As the minutes went by, May got pushed towards the door. She realized no one was watching her. She slipped out and walked.


May found her self on Tower Bridge gazing out at the Thames.


“Beautiful, is it not?”


May did not look at the man who spoke to her.


“The river stinks,” said May.


“You do have an opinion.” The man laughed. “You never expressed one when we danced.”


May turned to see the Duke of Grafton smiling at her.


“I wanted to ask for your hand but I could not see myself married to someone with so little interest in the world. It appears I misjudged you.” The Duke took May’s hand and bowed, placing a kiss upon her gloved knuckles. “I am glad to see I was wrong in my initial view of you.”

~ What are Tales on Tuesday? ~

 Find out about Tales on Tuesday Here.

The prompt for next Tuesday, June 22, 2010 is “Hawaii Five-O.”

If you have a TV show based theme you’d like to suggest as a prompt, mention it in the comments.

If you wrote a short story for today, sign into Mr. Linky.

      

Tales on Tuesday Slam Into Portrait of Words

Ms. Bunny Witchcraft, makeup in place, suit on and hair styled to perfection, flew to the closing of her dream house.  She took advantage of the current housing market to purchase more real estate than one person needed but this was an investment for her future.

The previous owners used a professional landscaper to create the perfect front lawn. The stunted and knarled trees hugged the stone walls of her new abode like zombies reaching from their graves to grab at ankles. She considered adding some skylights to enhance the view of the lightening that flashed repeatedly across the heavens. She couldn’t ask for a better climate in which to live.

Once she staked her new mailbox out front, she moved all of her belongings in and placed them in the appropriate rooms: iron cauldron and athame in the kitchen, eye of newt and snake legs in the pantry, the rack and judas cradle in the family room, blood and guts in the powder room, coffin in her bedroom. She enjoyed decorating with her fine possessions. Once the gilded cage hung from the cathedral ceilings, she moved her pet in.
Robin warbled his pleasure and appreciation of his new home deep in his throat. He especially enjoyed the wall treatments.


Bunny Witchcraft lived a happy and satisfying life with Robin until the day her mother came for a visit.

The first thing Mrs. Witchcraft wanted to know was when Bunny intended to marry. After all, a girl’s life was not complete until she had a husband in her home. If Bunny didn’t have a fella in mind, Mrs. Witchcraft could fix her up with a number of eligible bachelors. Any man would jump at the chance to be connected to the Witchcraft family. The lawyer, Pettifogger Ambulancechaser, saw Bunny’s image in a crystal ball and wanted a date. Raring to go Indian chief, Geronimo, picked out baby names when Mrs. Witchcraft gave him Bunny’s smoke signal.


Bunny tried to remain calm and patient with her mother, who really only wanted a litter of grandchildren she could dote on in her sunset years. But Bunny, still in her early twenties, just wanted to sow her wild oats. Well, at least until mom brought around the man who tucked mommy’s tummy and lifted mommy’s hag face. Yes, Bunny could get used to being Mrs. Dr. Who-Done-It.

Pictures courtesy of Thom so don’t get mad at me.

  ~ Thom’s Portrait of Words ~

~ Tales on Tuesday Link ~

The theme for Tuesday, June 15, 2010 will be Mayberry, R.F.D.

Do you have a TV show theme to suggest for future Tuesdays? Leave your suggestions in the comments.

Here's Mr. Linky. Sign in if you wrote a story for today's theme “Dr. WHO.”

Be sure to link right to your story. 

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Microfiction Monday – Hee, Haw, Ma and Pa

Susan’s Picture: 

My Story:

Being very reclusive, Bob sometimes lost his grip on reality but he had a rude awakening when mom and dad came for a visit. 

Do you wonder about e-publishing? Do you have some questions you’d like answered? Author, Shelley Munro from Taste of Kiwi passed on this link: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About E-Pubs (But Were Afraid to Ask…) By: Vivi Andrews Very informative.

I have to apologize to everyone for the title of my last post. I read an article on blogging that said you should find out what the popular key words are for searches and put them in your blog titles. All of the top ten Google searches for Saturday were related to the race.

Hosted by Susan @ Stony River

Write a story in 140 characters using the picture she provides as inspiration.

Tomorrow: My story is ready - Tales on Tuesday and Portrait of Words combine into one painful experience.

~ What Are Tales on Tuesday? ~

Tomorrow’s theme:

Dr. WHO

~ Thom’s Place 4 Well Whatever… ~

~ Thom’s Portrait of Words Writing Guidelines ~

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Tales on Tuesday - Rabbit My Friend

Rabbit, rabbit, my friends!


*** Update: Don't panic. You are not in hell. I had to change my template to get rid of DISQUIS. I'll fix it soon.

My Friend Rabbit

It took me a while, but I finally communicated with my friend, Rabbit. Reaching the dead is not easy. While I had some practice at it over the years, I couldn’t safely say I was an expert. Finding the quiet time I needed wasn’t easy either. With all of the people traipsing through the house at all hours of the day and night searching for the treasure, any ectoplasm I conjured dissipated each time a door opened and a draft passed through.

I bet you want to know about the treasure. You are not alone. The hunt began about six months ago. Rabbit had gone on safari to Ethiopia. One day last October, he sold me his car for air fare, stuffed a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts in his back pack (he liked to go commando – made traveling light easier) mumbled something about gold between goodbyes and he was off on another adventure.

When I went to clean his room before Samhain Eve, I found the walls covered in maps and arcane symbols. I hadn’t a clue what they meant and didn’t want to know if I could figure them out. I know Rabbit is a bit daffy.

Two days after Winter Solstice, he was back, tattoos on his face and hair half way down his back. He locked himself in his room, refusing to eat and ranting during the night, mimicking the sounds of jungle animals. This went on for six days. On the morning of the seventh, he came downstairs to breakfast, showered and shaved to show me pictures he had drawn of a golden treasure he had found and stolen in Africa. He hid it upon his return to home.

I listened while he wolfed down buckwheat pancakes doused in melted butter and good Canadian maple syrup. His eyes looked as thick and viscous as the syrup that ran down his chin as he talked around his food. I worried about his sanity while he worried about cashing in his cache. Once done filling his belly, Rabbit rose from the dinette table and came around to where I sat. He kissed me on the mouth, sweeter than usual, and thanked me for being such a good friend. He moved hips lips to my ear, anchoring my hair to his chin like a fly caught on fly paper. He whispered that my good deeds would not go unpunished, laughed his insane-person laugh and skipped up the stairs to his bedroom.

When he didn’t come down the next day and I had heard no noises during the last 24 hours, I cracked the door to his room to check on him. He was dead as a door nail. His laptop sat on his dead lap. As his last living act, he had blogged about his expedition and his hidden treasure. I posted an update, letting the world know that Rabbit had moved on. That’s when the hunt began.

Now, six months later, I just wanted the keys to Rabbit’s car so I could get out of there. Once I tapped into the great beyond, Rabbit told me the keys were in the coffee can above the refrigerator and have a great time. I responded thanks and will do. I got the keys, grabbed my suitcases and went out to the garage. I opened the trunk to toss in my bags but there was no more room, what with all that gold in there.

~ Tales on Tuesday Link ~

The theme for next Tuesday, June 8, 2010 is Dr. Who.

Here's the Mr. Linky for today's story:

We were camping with no internet service but I am back.

      

Tales and Tuesday - My Friend Rabbit

~ Tales on Tuesday link ~

I don't know if you still remember this game, but if you care to play, join me on Tuesday, June 1st, 2010 for My Friend Rabbit.

The theme for Tuesday, June 8th, 2010 will be Dr. Who.

     

Tales on Tuesday – Leave It to Beaver

Barry was a baby beaver living in Bavaria. His mom and dad built sturdy, long-lasting beaver lodges. Barry wanted to be just like them. He tried to follow in the paths of their beaver tails, but he was told to stay home. He was told he was too bitsy of a beaver baby. He had a lot of growing to do to become a big beaver before he could learn to chomp a fat tree trunk and leave tooth marks the way his mom and dad left grooves in growing trees.

Why, he didn’t even have his buck-toothed beaver teeth yet. The other baby beavers laughed at Barry for thinking he was beaver enough to gnaw on trunks. The big beavers shook their heads at Barry’s big beaver attitude.

Bertha and Bartholomew, Barry’s mom and dad, just patted Barry on the head and told him to stay home like a good little beaver. He should keep safe in the excellent beaver lodge they built for him and his brothers and sisters. He should not embarrass them all by doing something well beyond his capabilities. Barry should consider their social standing in the beaver community.

While Barry’s parents were out chewing up wood and his brothers and sisters were taking baby beaver naps, Barry snuck through the beaver tunnel and swam into the dammed up pool surrounding his parents’ beaver lodge. Working like any self-respecting busy beaver, Barry created his own beaver dam and a fairly decent beaver lodge. Since he built in secret, no one knew it was his.

When he was done, Barry tried to tell Bertha and Bartholomew of his creation, but they did not believe Barry. They were quite angry with him for trying to take credit for someone else’s work. That was a big no-no in the beaver world view of things so Barry was punished by being sent to bed without his daily roughage.

Upset at his treatment, Barry swam away from home and went to live in a new forest where no one knew him or his parents. He became a famous beaver developer, building huge tracts of beaver lodges in the Levittown style in honor of his hero. When his parents passed him in the forest, he would turn up his tail and pretend he did not know them. This went on for many moons until disaster struck the woods where he grew up.

Forest rangers destroyed all of the beaver dams built by his parents. They drained the creeks and broke up all of the lodges. This caused Barry’s family to become homeless. When Barry heard about his family’s destitution, he invited them all to live in lodges he created.

I began my vacation Friday. My daughter brought me Nicholas. I will be babysitting all week while she goes to Florida with her husband. Saturday we went on this year’s first camping trip. We got back late Sunday. Monday, Nicholas and I tried to recover. Today, I spent all day visiting with my parents so they could spend more time with their great-grandson.

I forgot how much work a teething seven month old baby can be.

I am hoping to have some time this week to clean up my online life and go around and visit.

The wiggling wild man says hi. And I’m going to go get some sleep while I can.

~ Tales on Tuesday Link ~

The theme for Tuesday, May 11, 2010 will be “Speed Racer.”

Do you have a TV show theme to suggest for future Tuesdays? 

Leave your suggestions in the comments.

Here's Mr. Linky. Sign in if you wrote a story for today's theme "Leave It to Beaver.”

Be sure to link right to your story.

 

      

Tales on Tuesday - My Favorite Martian

I have put Mr. Linky below if you wrote a story for this week. I still have not had a chance to read last week's stories and I have not written one this week. I have not even checked most of my emails in forever. My apologizes all around.

No matter how I wish it otherwise, there are only so many hours a day for me in this place and time. If I were orbiting the earth, I might gain a few one thousandths of a second but I doubt that extra time would help me much.

Friday I begin a vacation of nine days. I have not taken an actual week's vacation in about ten years. I will be staying home, except for short trips and visits, indulging myself with no place in particular to be. 

Please bear with me. I miss you all.

~ Tales on Tuesday Link ~

The theme for Tuesday, May 4, 2010 will be "Leave It To Beaver."

Do you have a TV show theme to suggest for future Tuesdays? Leave your suggestions in the comments.

Here's Mr. Linky. 

Sign in if you wrote a story for today's theme "My Favorite Martian."

Be sure to link right to your story.

      

Tales on Tuesday – All in the Family

Serial killers fascinate me. Not what they do or their modus operandi; not who they kill or why. While I feel for their victims and the victims’ families, I am interested in the perpetrators. Who they were as children, who their families were and how they interacted.

To me, evil has always been cloaked in the ordinary. Monsters are not ugly, with misshapen toes or boils upon their noses. Monsters speak softly and beguile you with a smile. They are not crazy lunatics wrapped in faded and dirty blankets self talking as they walk down the street. They comb their hair and iron their shirts. They befriend your parents or hand out papers for the teacher, then do bad things in the woods.

Eddie raped and killed seven girls by the time he was caught at age nineteen. If he hadn’t been caught in the act on victim number seven, no one would have believed it. Eddie stood five feet four, had short brown hair cut trim. He wore button up dress shirts and creased his pants. He spoke quietly and never got excited.

There were several missing girls who the authorities believed were Eddie’s victims and very little evidence in the cases, so a deal was cut. The authorities allowed a plea of guilty due to insanity (Eddie couldn’t remember his deeds) and Eddie agreed to undergo psychiatric treatment and participate in a serial killer study. Eddie agreed to take sodium thiopental so the bodies of the six other victims (if there really were any, as Eddie would say) could be found and the families could have closure.

Serving a twenty to thirty year sentence in a psychiatric prison, Eddie underwent many hours of interviews. He was questioned about his past which he said was normal. He showed the doctors pictures of a close knit family: father, mother, two sisters and Eddie between the two girls. He did well in school. He went to church every Sunday with his family. His father was a lector. His mother helped with charities.

The doctors spoke Eddie’s parents. They were shocked that Eddie was accused of these things and had a hard time believing it. He was such an ordinary child. They stood behind their son in spirit and in body at all of his trials. They prayed for him. They never found any dead animals when he was little. He never fought them over any of the rules and they considered themselves fairly strict. Eddie was very punctual.

Eddie’s mother would not speak to anyone except her husband about Eddie. When the doctors first requested a dialogue to see if there was anything in Eddie’s past that might have led his parents to think something might be wrong with Eddie, husband and wife tried to recall any incidents that might have been clues. They decided nothing about him rang any warning bells. Mother did tell Father there was that one time that Younger Sister told Mother that Eddie had forced her to have sex with him, but they were sure that was just something boys did.

~ Tales on Tuesday Link ~

The theme for Tuesday, April 27, 2010 will be My Favorite Martian.

Do you have a TV show theme to suggest for future Tuesdays? Leave your suggestions in the comments.

Here's Mr. Linky. 

Sign in if you wrote a story for today's theme "All in the Family." 

Be sure to link right to your story.