Fred, my neighbor, has a talent for fixing stuff. Just about anything, from old fridges to iPads. If you’ve got something that’s busted, all you need do bring it along to that big old wooden shed at the back of his plot, Fred will get busy. The results don’t always look how the maker intended, but he’ll get it working again, every time.
The autumn leaves slowly tumbled to the ground in a graceful dance that reminded the man of a dream he had once upon a time. In the dream there were men and women whirling around in ceremonial dress around a child who was lying on the ground, completely silent. Everything was in slow motion, and while it could have been a peaceful scene, there was something wrong about it. It struck the man as more of a warning and less of a dream; almost as if there were clues he was supposed to follow in order to understand the basic nature of the scene playing out before him.
It was one of those lost weekends that many genealogists experience when the obsession to solve a mystery brings them into the early hours of the morning at their keyboards, scrolling through census documents, spying on the long dead as they go about their lives in the distant past, unaware that their future children were watching as they opened the door and invited the census taker into their home, offering him a cup of tea, and sitting at the family table with him as he scribbled in his book, taking account of everyone in the household.
”Everyone loves a good mystery, but some mysteries are left unsolved and forgotten to all, to stop the bloodshed of innocents.” …Michael Douglas (7/23/2020)
Replacing the filter in the coffee pot, I stumbled to the sink and rinsed the pot out before filling it with water. I started it, and pulled a cup out from the cabinet. The cup was lined with rabbit fur, and in my shock, I dropped it on the floor. Instead of the familiar clattering sound and ceramic shards I was expecting, when the cup hit the floor it crawled away.
I went out camping on the reservation. It was pretty remote since I had no cell service and the nearest place to civilization was about 40 to 50 miles. It was amazing place, bunch of shade from the pines and even a pond. I kinda believe it use to be a lake but years of drought made it shrink. It took a few hours to set up camp so I didn't really do much once it hit the evening. I did manage a good camp fire and I made the best supper, STEAK. Nice juicy and well charred made you wanna slap your mama, haha I'm joking. Anyways the first night was a bit rough since I forgot the mats or a cushion. Around 2 or 3 in the morning, it was pretty weird, I woke up to hear a faint yelling or screaming. I remembered and that there could be cougars that could make that same-ish sounds so I just went back to sleep. I then woke up around 9 or 10 that morning felt refreshed and was getting ready for the day. My goal was to actually find and harvest some wild herbs my tribe use for medicines. And to enjoy time alone from society. I started hiking North of my camp where there was more vegetation. About 5 miles away I then discovered a old broken rusted truck. A old 1950 chevy I believe, was pretty cool but what caught my attention more was that there were weird scratch markings on it. I also think some shotgun holes but I wasn't to sure. Was very interesting it gave me the creeps and had my imagination going. I stopped my hike from there and headed back for camp.
He painted the sea and the sailing vessels rounding his perch on a Cape Cod cliff. The wind was always a nuisance, rattling his canvas and shaking his little pot of turpentine so that he built a type of adjustable frame onto his easel to hold the canvas in place. He reinforced the entire set-up by tying bags of sand to the legs.
"I guess I went a little too far." Michelle said, and The Director pleaded, "Please don't kill me, I'm too young, and I haven't lived!"
In the Godspeed Prison, there's a column of jail cells where those who have turned humans into a Supernatural being or serial killers are. The worse of them was a nineteen-year-old girl named Pearl Garrett, and she's so bad. They bound her wrists as well as those slim ankles with Silver shackles.