WHERE DID THEY GO?

Photo by Lennart kcotsttiw on Pexels.com

PART 3

There was a story  that haunted the house

that I’ve built inside of my head.

 

It was all about monsters and curses and gardener

named Erasmus

who always sings when he digs.

 

There is an abandoned fire

burning  on  a cold hearth

in the house

where my shadows used to live.

 

Riversleigh

weird2

What lies beneath the cool green waters

of Riversleigh River?

Is it a face? Was that a hand reaching up for me as I looked down

into the waters that gently reached the riverbank

and rested there for a moment

before being pulled back out again?

I peered into the water and my face peered back

questioningly, I decided with annoyance.

Of course nothing lies quietly beneath the waters of Riversleigh River

I told myself sternly.

Its weighted down with rocks.

Big ones.

I should know.

I put them there myself.

( Inspired By The Riversleigh Journey By H.Blakey )

The Cottage On Chestnut Hill

In a small cottage, the kind of small cottage that you can find hidden at the end of roads that you would swear you’ve never noticed but you must have driven by it everyday since forever

because

roads and cottages surrounded by wild gardens do not just appear  as if by magic out of thin air- isn’t that right?

So, back to my little story.

In my small cottage, surrounded by a wild garden  chocked by weeds with softy downy thistles and tiny pink and purple blossoms I work on my needlepoint near a window with aged cream colored curtains tied back with packing string.

Last week I saw a car drive by and then the car  stopped and rolled back and the driver and I were eye to eye, as it were.

I wasn’t going to stand up, because I was very busy but I decided to because my knee was a little stiff and I wanted a drink of water anyway.

So I stood up and the driver in the car leaned back and then leaned forward and I saw her take off her eyeglasses, clean them and put them back on again.

Then she sat there and then she looked straight ahead and nearly drove into the tree at the side of the road ( a beautiful twisted apple tree that produces the tastiest apples anywhere on Earth ).

” Silly woman, ” I said, wishing just a tiny bit that she had hit the tree or maybe the fence because nothing ever happens on quiet little roads like mine ” you’d think she had seen a ghost or something.”

I guess I had startled her- my windows do need a bit of cleaning because they are a little dusty.

I went to my little kitchen and got myself a glass of water and on the way out I checked my calendar again- because I am so bad with numbers and impossible with keeping track of dates

January 6th, 2019 FULL MOON

I had written in red- with little paw prints  all around the square because I have not only a taste for over sweet apples, needlepoint and gardening.

I have a wolfish sense of humor too.

 

RDP Friday: COTTAGE

Mr. Gale’s Funeral

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

 

 

We met to plan the final details for Mr. Gale’s  in the Gale Family home.

It was the beginning of fall and the leaves had just started to drop from the trees.

 

” Just treat it like any other tradition Funeral, ” his wife told me on the day we planned Mr. Gale’s funeral. ” Flowers, candles maybe someone can read poem and can you recommend a Minster? I suppose we need one of those.”

 

I assured her I could see to all of these details.

 

” I am so glad to hear that Irene, this is such a trying time you know.”

 

” I do and I’m very glad I could help.”

 

Mrs. Gale leaned over and whispered into my ear. ” I am curious dear, how it came that you decided to become-” she was at a loss for the word  which is not unusual in times like this.

 

I patted her arm. ” It’s the family business.”

 

Mrs. Gale got up and smoothed her hair and then walked over to her husband’s casket and put her gloved hand on it, somewhat cautiously. ” Oh Dear, I almost forgot. Music. Can we have music-”

 

The thudding and screaming resumed from inside the sealed casket.

 

” In case he starts up with that again ” sighed the soon to be widow.

 

Daily Addictions Prompt: Identical

Here For You

Photo A.M. Moscoso

” Look into my eyes ” said the monster.

” Don’t turn away, don’t cry out in fear. Just look into my eyes and whatever you do, don’t look away. Not even for a minute. I’m going to tell you my secrets, give you my nightmares all of my demons and unchained fears. You and you alone I will trust. You and you alone I will die for and cherish. Look into my eyes and don’t look away. “

I put my hands, both of them against my reflection in the mirror and said ” Of course I won’t.”

 

Daily Addictions Prompt: Influence