Posted tagged ‘Mystery’

The Flood

May 27, 2013

Blowing your own trumpet can be discordant. However, yet again, I’m getting fed up with this, too much of anything is bad for you, why does it have to be me? Why oh why oh why? this website has won an award. Here we go again. I know, tell me about it. Award-winning Everyday Gothic Horror Stories. Yawn. Details can be found on this orange line here.

It was raining cats and dogs and frogs and
Fearing the flood would not abate I built
A boat; And two by two my zoo took shape

Caterpillars shared room with centipedes
But man, I kept the spiders from the flies
No tigers about so no life of Pi
Gathering my flock I prepared to sail
Then the heavens closed to bring sunshine
Thank God for that as I am no Noah
The animals are all female, probably
And it would be the end of humanity

Windsor’s Fall

September 24, 2012

Deep in the middle of autumn I arose from bed with a spring in my step. Throwing open the curtains I expected the seasonal thorny weather. My eyes saw the glory of a dry garden and overhead, a blue sky. With great haste I made my elaborate preparations for a comfortable stay in the back yard.

Shorts, t-shit and flip-flops were the garb of this calling. The plastic chair and table were emptied from the cluttered hall cupboard. A flask of ice-cold cola chilling from the fridge would help me from dehydration and the Kindle would hide the latest embarrassing book I am reading. Any enquiries from nosy neighbours could be met with the blatant lie, “just a little something by Prost.”

Before my adventure could start I was assailed by my wife.

“Where are you going?”

“The back.”

“It’s freezing out there. Are you crazy?”

“It’s not freezing, it’s nice. I’m going out there and you will regret not joining me.”

I set up my paradise in the garden. I idled in the idyll. It was as if a little piece of Jamaica had been transported into the sprawling urban metropolis that surrounded me. Swigging some of the brown, sugary nectar of the gods I delved back into my Dean Koontz blockbuster.

A light breeze tickled my toes, though it wasn’t a laughing matter. For once I wished I had socks under my flip-flops to ward off the slight chill in my lower extremities. As if by a switch the sky turned a shade of grey. Then a whipping current of air tore at my face. Nonplussed, I guessed this was just a passing breaking of wind.

My guess was wrong when the goose bumps sprouted from my flesh as the cold intensified. I turned round to see my wife at the window. I managed to fake a smile with my teeth chattering. Standing up to bring some heat into my body by moving, the chair was blown across the ground and rattled off the garden wall where it continued to flap. I picked up my cola and headed for the back door of the house; you never leave a cola behind.

My homeward journey was difficult as the wind was changing direction constantly. The only good thing about this was I hoped there were a lot of people playing golf today. Leaning my upper torso 30° into the wind I could fight my way to shelter.

“See. Told you it was wild outside.” said my wife.

Now this I could not stomach. For the rest of the day I did not want the “told you so” thrown down my throat at every opportunity so I had to counteract her claim.

“What are you talking about? I forgot to put on my sun cream. After I put it on I’m going back outside.”

I might not be coming back.

Night Prowler

January 10, 2011

The old man’s fear of living alone had long vanished. Members of his family had taken turns “sitting” him after his faithful companion, Dot, passed away. Now, they barely looked in and he settled into a lonely routine.

Only early in the mornings did he have any contact with other souls when he called into the greengrocer’s. Subsisting on the most basic and cheapest of food, his day was one long eternity of solitude. Lately, he had been given to waking up in the middle of the night. After a brief visit to the bathroom, his sleep could resume uninterrupted.

He grew to enjoy these nocturnal appointments. From bedroom to toilet he bypassed the hall. Comfortingly, the light on the outside landing shined through the peephole on his front door and it lit the way for him. It saved him electricity.

Over many months this ritual was observed every night and he grew to love the shining light. On a few occasions he had to rein himself back from approaching the light. The navigational aid was confusing him. Instinct had made him complete his task night after night yet the beacon at the door enticed him.

One night he entered the hall and found utter darkness. With no light source the old man became disorientated. This did not help his urinary condition. And an unwelcome thought appeared. Was the light outside still working? If so, was there someone standing at the peephole?

Singing the Blues

March 18, 2010

The sign outside the Old College Bar simply said: Karaoke competition tonight, £20 to the best singer. Owning a pair of golden tonsils I planned on hustling in on a piece of the action because as Paul Newman says in the Color of Money “money won is twice as good as money earned.”

The bar was quite empty with about six customers, only one of them I knew, a huge brute of a man called Hefty. Me and Hefty were nodding acquaintances and we went through our Chinese ritual on seeing one another. Before ordering a drink I decided to check out the toilet. To boost my confidence I always have a run through my scales in the latrine as the acoustics are superb. Doh, ray, me, fah, la, ti, me, so- I let it all rip in there.

My joy was short lived as MaGlumfer had entered the bar. The two best singers in town were about to have another show down. MaGlumfer and me had history that went back farther than the registration period. For me and MaGlumfer read, Borg v McEnroe, Federer v Nadal, Roe v Wade. The patrons in the bar shuffled uneasily on their seats expecting trouble although in big Hefty’s case it was probably because of alimentary canal trouble. (more…)