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The metallic clang of the cell door slamming behind me reverberated through my head and I knew in that moment, that sound would resound in my head for the rest of my life. I looked around the small room I had entered. It didn't take long.
After a hectic, 35 year, busy career of traveling around the world on business, I was finally retired. We built our retirement home among the tall conifer forest in a small mountain resort town in Northern California. I swore never to go near another airport….ever! I looked forward to doing nothing but reading, writing about some of my travel experiences, playing golf, and exploring the mountain back roads on my 2003 Vespa motor scooter. Most of all I would finally be able to spend more time with my wife of 53 years. Leisurely chats about all the this and that of our lives without interrupting phone calls and faxes. She was an identical twin, and I knew the minute I saw her at one of my high school basketball games, I had to ask her out on a date.
Sean O’Hara loaded his automatic, then stuffed it under his belt behind his back. Would he be using it to kill his best friend tonight Wally had called and invited him over for sandwiches, beer, and Monday night football. Just like old times he had said. Sean wondered if Wally was setting him up. It was possible he had fooled everyone, and had been putting up an act all this time. Such a guy was Wally.
My footsteps echoed on the floor as I rushed into the ballroom. Lying in the centre of the room, wearing her grandmother’s wedding dress, was Sydney. My heart began thumping deafeningly against my chest, willing me to run faster. I fell beside her body, praying, hoping for a miracle. But there was none.
Her eyes were open, staring without seeing at the elaborate carvings on the ceiling.
“No. No, no, no. Come on, Sydney. Get up.”
I pulled at my former enemy’s limp arm, internally screaming for any form of response. Candles flickered around us and shadows jumped out from every corner. My heart was racing and my entire body shook each second that I spent there, “Please, Sydney. Please. Don’t leave me.” There was no sign of life from those pale, delicate fingers or the usually glistening eyes on her beautiful face. A voice in my head told me, what a waste. Dead before she could even begin living. And it’s all your fault.
Catching a glimpse as she rode her bicycle down the street, Katy noticed the garage door close slowly where the house on the corner had been vacant. Behind the tall rusty coloured metal doors she could hear a rustling sound coming from behind the bushes.
No-one had lived there for a long time it seemed, as the house was so quiet and lifeless. There were no lights reflecting through the windows, and the lawns on the nature-strip were forgotten and kept growing.
The sound she heard coming from the bushes sounded like quick tiny foot-steps running on dry autumn leaves and the movement of a tin dish softly being dragged along the ground. As Katy moved closer she pressed her ear against the doors.
On 73rd street, Neon worms wriggle alive to streak lime and orange on the pavement lining the block between Tavelli and Denton.
On its corner is a Brazilian salon, with a single sleepy stylist sweeping up curls from checkered tiles, and an old footwear store, with shine and soles pressing up against its storefront. Mounted on the scratched glass, a poster advertises for a play by Theaster Hill on the Greek tragedies, its closing night already three weeks past, next to stickers that read "We Appreciate Your Business," and beneath, "We Call the Police."
It was finally happening,the day Fred had been waiting for was finally here.His son in law called him at three in the morning with the wonderful news, "I'm going to shoot myself now Fred,do you want to be here when I do it?" Fred almost dropped the phone.He glanced over at his sleeping wife and went into the bathroom to answer the question. "Yes,yes I do Edward,thank you.I'll be right over,"Then hearing the sound of sobbing he added, "Please wait for me ." It was Christmas Eve exactly one year from the horrible night someone killed Fred's daughter and three grandchildren.
In between two worlds.
Dream collides with reality.
I see myself sleeping and
Everything around me, I
Must be awake but my
Eyes are closed. My
Body, frozen like ice,
Confusion in my mind.
And then, as treasured things often do, it vanished.
Christmas Eve is the ultimate celebration for my family. Everyone, scattered across the states, arrives at my home alight with joy. Christmas Eve mass begins at 7 P.M., followed by dinner in a swanky restaurant.
On this eve, it’s more than deck the holly; it’s also deck the body. I zipped into a blue satin strapless dress from Victoria’s Secret. My bared neck showcased my pearls—the pearls my husband handed me right about the time I was ready to hand him divorce papers. I took the pearls. Lucky for him, I’m a nice Catholic girl.
Sherlock Bones is an intelligent, crime-hungry retriever, along with his companion, Mr. Dachsund. In this first novel, Bones and Dachsund must figure out who stole the absolutely famous golden kong of peanut-butter. Was it Sir Gruffel, the german sheperd from Germany? Or Pugsli, the french-pug of Paris? Read to find out!
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Mystery: August 01, 2012 Issue [#5187]
The briefcase in Pulp Fiction.
