Poetry competition CLOSED 16th February 2012 11:33pm
WINNER
dmccartan (Dave McCartan)
dmccartan (Dave McCartan)
RUNNERS-UP:
Grace
and harlequin
Fiction to Non Fiction short stories
Friday night.One night i thought i had never forget.I'd just climbed out of the castle torrent,about seventy foot high. Scary moment,looking at a drain pipe really not built to hold4four people.All of us weighing about a good thirty-eight stone between us.There was myself,johnny.Ste,also known as pigeon on the count of his chest being so big.There was Golden boy.Don't ask me where he got that from.Lets just say,he attracted precious metal.The yellow type.Then finally there was Davie.He was a complete nutter. If you got on the wrong side of him,you knew about it,or should i say felt it.Good to have when needed though. Anyway,your probably wandering what were all doing climbing down a castle drain pipe. The four of us decided we were pissed off being locked up.It used to be a lock-up school for uncontrollable kids.That was us four.We where all fourteen and fifteen at the time.Once down the drain pipe we had to get down from this hill top. It was like a mountain to us.By the time we got down to the bottom,the castle had all the grasses after us.Trying to block us off each end of a canal which we had to run along for nine miles to the motorway.After t5hat,we had to hitch a lift to liverpool.Thirty-four miles away.Don't forget ,all the time trying trying our best evading the coppers.That's if we got away from the grasses first. Can't really remember what happened next.All i remember was being home in my mums.I could hear her shouting for me to get out of bed.The mini bus was here too pick me up and take me back.I got up and threw the first thing i could reach and went to the window It's funny now looking back.I could see all the grasses in the back of the bus all sitting there waiting for me to come out. It was only then i realized i had been on home leave all the time.Couldn't believe it. I was wandering why i couldn't remember anything. What a dream
Anonymous
NEVERMORE LENORE
by starstruck 13 and opal_koi
...then Lenore recalled a poet by the name of Edgar Allan Poe, wrote this book Nevermore. How she loved her favorite author, a man beyond his time, but most of all she loved his poems with the melancholy words and endings. She slowly walked up to him as he read from his book of Woe. His face clouded by the mist. Dressed in black a tall figure, strange and powerful in the moonlight she asked his name he replied in a whisper, my name is no name and he vanished in the mist. Then she yell into the void of the night.
You have no name my lips will give you one, come and claim your name whispered by my soul. The gentleman dressed in black said, let me hear what your soul whispered to be my name.
Why she said, it came upon a whisper, in the wind and pressed through the mist your name is Edgar Allan Poe and bowed before this man. Edgar nobbled his head slightly and walked closer to her his foot steps light upon the grass the mist surround him as he came within an arms length of her, he gently took her hand and kissed it passionately but tenderly and said, my love your love was true for me and this was when I requested you my Lenore come with me.
He took her to his tomb and wrapped her into his arms gently guided her into immaturity with a fatal kiss of Nevermore Lenore.
by starstruck 13 and opal_koi
...then Lenore recalled a poet by the name of Edgar Allan Poe, wrote this book Nevermore. How she loved her favorite author, a man beyond his time, but most of all she loved his poems with the melancholy words and endings. She slowly walked up to him as he read from his book of Woe. His face clouded by the mist. Dressed in black a tall figure, strange and powerful in the moonlight she asked his name he replied in a whisper, my name is no name and he vanished in the mist. Then she yell into the void of the night.
You have no name my lips will give you one, come and claim your name whispered by my soul. The gentleman dressed in black said, let me hear what your soul whispered to be my name.
Why she said, it came upon a whisper, in the wind and pressed through the mist your name is Edgar Allan Poe and bowed before this man. Edgar nobbled his head slightly and walked closer to her his foot steps light upon the grass the mist surround him as he came within an arms length of her, he gently took her hand and kissed it passionately but tenderly and said, my love your love was true for me and this was when I requested you my Lenore come with me.
He took her to his tomb and wrapped her into his arms gently guided her into immaturity with a fatal kiss of Nevermore Lenore.
An Evening with Matthew Hopkins
From 1645 until 1647 Matthew Hopkins traveled the eastern counties of England, a self appointed “Witch Finder General”. It is estimated that he was responsible for the execution of more than 300 (female) ‘witches’
This is the year 1646
The weather was unseasonably mild, little by the way of rain or storms yet. The meadows were still firm underfoot and this night they traveled away from the tracks and the roads. Five of them there were, two men and three women under full moon and clear sky. In the near distance the tight knot of a coppice an hours ride away from the nearest town
The cottage was as had been said, standing alone in a small clearing at the edge of the wood, rough stone walled with the brow of an overhanging thatch clipped short of the tops of windows and doors.
They dismounted and one amongst them having signaled for the rest to remain with the horses, walked towards a low heavy door of weathered gnarled wood that opened with ease and without noise under the prod of his hand.
The room was simple and rustic, illuminated only from the glow of a low burning fire. Seeing no one he called out “Show yourself”.
In that moment his sight flickered on and off as the drift in and out of a dream and when it cleared a head had appeared from around the side of a high backed chair. Long grey hair fallen loose, a face of clear skin but of an age
‘Do you not knock before entering another’s house?’ a voice almost too deep for a woman, yet unmistakably it was sure and strong.
‘I pursue the business of parliament, free to enter at will’ he replied
‘Parliament eh you suggest some great importance, pray what of that business might find you here?
‘I am on the business of witches’
‘Witches indeed’ spoken with no hint of fear or surprise ‘and how come you to know a witch to your eyes?’
‘Tis my calling, there are signs and methods tested and proven’
‘And interested I would be to hear of such things, you must be seated and tell to me’
With that he turned away
‘Ah, you go to speak to your friends outside, please, go, you will not see them but they are there’
And he went and of them there was no sign, he called out each name until his echo lay dead
Returning to the room in some haste and did he but know it the colour of his face had turned ashen, but bile was rising inside as he made towards her chair
‘No’ she said and pointed to the far side of the hearth towards another chair. As if against his will he began to shuffle sideways as she had directed. Once seated he wished for all to get up but the will of his legs was not there and when he tried to speak his voice would but squeak without words..
Hopkins tried again to speak, but still his tongue would reverse and reach down as if to choke off his breath
‘Not yet, not yet’ she smiled ‘your voice will come and go as I choose, but you will listen to me’. The woman raised her hand toward the open fire and the flames but low and gentle grew and crackled higher flooding the room with new light. Although the hair remained the silver of grey the face now appeared younger, the eyes brighter.
Witch damned witch he thought his nostrils flaring wider with each deep breath
‘Perhaps’ she replied ‘and perhaps the first you every truly met. You think you came to me Matthew Hopkins, but it was me who called for you, time is overdue that we meet.’
‘Pah! it was I that found you, people have spoken’
‘The innkeeper and his wife?, a simple task to arrange and no use to struggle for you cannot leave the chair’
‘No surprise that you say my name for I am known’
‘And for one so young you are indeed known for plundering these counties of England of late, how many innocents have you tried and sent to their death.
‘Innocents, innocents’ he hissed ‘witches in league with the devil every one’
‘How tell you a witch Hopkins, by hounding and torturing’ is that your evidence’
‘No proof of maleficium is required. Witches float, the water rejects them as they rejected the holy baptism, evidence of the Devils pact is all that the law requires’
‘Ha and what of you, baptized by your own father, will you float or sink? Were you blinded by your father’s bibles? is that how it is?
‘There are other proofs witch, the devils mark, a mole, a birthmark, a third nipple, areas of skin, dead of all feeling and without blood when pricked or cut’
She stood from the chair, effortlessly letting her loose gown fall to the floor. Hopkins caught his breath for she appeared younger than ever, tall and slender, stepping a little closer until just beyond arms reach she turned slowly around upon the balls of here feet.
‘See you the devils mark upon this skin’ she asked ‘for you can surely see all of it’
‘Some such marks are invisible’ he huffed ‘discovered by pricking the skin until they are found’
‘A luxury you will never have Master Hopkins’ and she turned away and refitted her gown‘
‘All witches are Heretics or the Christian God and I will come for you’
‘You do not know it yet but there are plans afoot by your powers that be. Soon you will be summoned, asked if your methods of investigation do not make you and your associates themselves akin to the very witches you claim to seek’
‘No witch am I, I am The Witch Hunter, they cannot take away my quest’
‘What ever they might do they will not punish you and that is my quest, it is why you are here’
‘You make to punish me, you think you the devil himself?’
‘She shook her long hair slowly side to side. The Devil?, Ha, he has no hold on me. You will retire from this vile work of yours Master Hopkins and return to your home where you will prepare to make your deathbed
‘Why would you not, if you have the power end me know’
‘Ah that I could and no devil god or angel could prevent it. I could tomorrow or the day after or the next time you take of the flesh I might make your gonads burst and bleed to death in your naked shame, but such is too soon too simple. Your mind needs time to reflect, you will not see out your third decade for the date of your death will be August 1647’
‘You dare to curse me witch?’
‘You cursed yourself Master Hopkins, history will recall you badly, a bully a coward who lined his purse, perhaps a woman hater for ‘tis women upon which you preyed’
‘What is your name vile witch for I shall make it known what ever my fate’
‘Names, such tedious things to bandy about sometimes, although you may know of it soon enough, for I will visit you with the greatest of pleasure upon your deathbed’
Hopkins at last feeling free of the weight of his chair and raised himself swiftly in anger ‘You, you!’ he screamed
‘All is done’ she said, her face a flicker frame kaleidoscope of all those hundreds of innocents put to death. And with a snap of her fingers she was gone.
Long since retired Matthew Hopkins died at his home of respiratory disorder on the 12th of August 1647. If the images of the faces of those he put to death troubled him he never said. Although it is said that his final coughing, spluttering utterances included the word ‘Atropos’
Harlequin Writes (Jan 2012)
‘
From 1645 until 1647 Matthew Hopkins traveled the eastern counties of England, a self appointed “Witch Finder General”. It is estimated that he was responsible for the execution of more than 300 (female) ‘witches’
This is the year 1646
The weather was unseasonably mild, little by the way of rain or storms yet. The meadows were still firm underfoot and this night they traveled away from the tracks and the roads. Five of them there were, two men and three women under full moon and clear sky. In the near distance the tight knot of a coppice an hours ride away from the nearest town
The cottage was as had been said, standing alone in a small clearing at the edge of the wood, rough stone walled with the brow of an overhanging thatch clipped short of the tops of windows and doors.
They dismounted and one amongst them having signaled for the rest to remain with the horses, walked towards a low heavy door of weathered gnarled wood that opened with ease and without noise under the prod of his hand.
The room was simple and rustic, illuminated only from the glow of a low burning fire. Seeing no one he called out “Show yourself”.
In that moment his sight flickered on and off as the drift in and out of a dream and when it cleared a head had appeared from around the side of a high backed chair. Long grey hair fallen loose, a face of clear skin but of an age
‘Do you not knock before entering another’s house?’ a voice almost too deep for a woman, yet unmistakably it was sure and strong.
‘I pursue the business of parliament, free to enter at will’ he replied
‘Parliament eh you suggest some great importance, pray what of that business might find you here?
‘I am on the business of witches’
‘Witches indeed’ spoken with no hint of fear or surprise ‘and how come you to know a witch to your eyes?’
‘Tis my calling, there are signs and methods tested and proven’
‘And interested I would be to hear of such things, you must be seated and tell to me’
With that he turned away
‘Ah, you go to speak to your friends outside, please, go, you will not see them but they are there’
And he went and of them there was no sign, he called out each name until his echo lay dead
Returning to the room in some haste and did he but know it the colour of his face had turned ashen, but bile was rising inside as he made towards her chair
‘No’ she said and pointed to the far side of the hearth towards another chair. As if against his will he began to shuffle sideways as she had directed. Once seated he wished for all to get up but the will of his legs was not there and when he tried to speak his voice would but squeak without words..
Hopkins tried again to speak, but still his tongue would reverse and reach down as if to choke off his breath
‘Not yet, not yet’ she smiled ‘your voice will come and go as I choose, but you will listen to me’. The woman raised her hand toward the open fire and the flames but low and gentle grew and crackled higher flooding the room with new light. Although the hair remained the silver of grey the face now appeared younger, the eyes brighter.
Witch damned witch he thought his nostrils flaring wider with each deep breath
‘Perhaps’ she replied ‘and perhaps the first you every truly met. You think you came to me Matthew Hopkins, but it was me who called for you, time is overdue that we meet.’
‘Pah! it was I that found you, people have spoken’
‘The innkeeper and his wife?, a simple task to arrange and no use to struggle for you cannot leave the chair’
‘No surprise that you say my name for I am known’
‘And for one so young you are indeed known for plundering these counties of England of late, how many innocents have you tried and sent to their death.
‘Innocents, innocents’ he hissed ‘witches in league with the devil every one’
‘How tell you a witch Hopkins, by hounding and torturing’ is that your evidence’
‘No proof of maleficium is required. Witches float, the water rejects them as they rejected the holy baptism, evidence of the Devils pact is all that the law requires’
‘Ha and what of you, baptized by your own father, will you float or sink? Were you blinded by your father’s bibles? is that how it is?
‘There are other proofs witch, the devils mark, a mole, a birthmark, a third nipple, areas of skin, dead of all feeling and without blood when pricked or cut’
She stood from the chair, effortlessly letting her loose gown fall to the floor. Hopkins caught his breath for she appeared younger than ever, tall and slender, stepping a little closer until just beyond arms reach she turned slowly around upon the balls of here feet.
‘See you the devils mark upon this skin’ she asked ‘for you can surely see all of it’
‘Some such marks are invisible’ he huffed ‘discovered by pricking the skin until they are found’
‘A luxury you will never have Master Hopkins’ and she turned away and refitted her gown‘
‘All witches are Heretics or the Christian God and I will come for you’
‘You do not know it yet but there are plans afoot by your powers that be. Soon you will be summoned, asked if your methods of investigation do not make you and your associates themselves akin to the very witches you claim to seek’
‘No witch am I, I am The Witch Hunter, they cannot take away my quest’
‘What ever they might do they will not punish you and that is my quest, it is why you are here’
‘You make to punish me, you think you the devil himself?’
‘She shook her long hair slowly side to side. The Devil?, Ha, he has no hold on me. You will retire from this vile work of yours Master Hopkins and return to your home where you will prepare to make your deathbed
‘Why would you not, if you have the power end me know’
‘Ah that I could and no devil god or angel could prevent it. I could tomorrow or the day after or the next time you take of the flesh I might make your gonads burst and bleed to death in your naked shame, but such is too soon too simple. Your mind needs time to reflect, you will not see out your third decade for the date of your death will be August 1647’
‘You dare to curse me witch?’
‘You cursed yourself Master Hopkins, history will recall you badly, a bully a coward who lined his purse, perhaps a woman hater for ‘tis women upon which you preyed’
‘What is your name vile witch for I shall make it known what ever my fate’
‘Names, such tedious things to bandy about sometimes, although you may know of it soon enough, for I will visit you with the greatest of pleasure upon your deathbed’
Hopkins at last feeling free of the weight of his chair and raised himself swiftly in anger ‘You, you!’ he screamed
‘All is done’ she said, her face a flicker frame kaleidoscope of all those hundreds of innocents put to death. And with a snap of her fingers she was gone.
Long since retired Matthew Hopkins died at his home of respiratory disorder on the 12th of August 1647. If the images of the faces of those he put to death troubled him he never said. Although it is said that his final coughing, spluttering utterances included the word ‘Atropos’
Harlequin Writes (Jan 2012)
‘
Anonymous
The Crypt of the Forsaken
Westminster church - Green and Fayette
upon the streets in Baltimore
outside an old dark graveyard
where death is kept and stored.
Looking past the gate - this iron gate
I leave my fears aside
I push the gate - this creaking gate
and prepare to step inside.
For on this night - this rainy night
I have come to awaken death
yes upon this night - this rainy night
to steal its spoken breath.
I roam inside - where ghosts reside
searching for a way to see
the tomb that holds the corridor
that will set it's spirit free.
So I look around - without a sound
for the tomb he sleeps within
and into the depths slip underground
as my hunt it now begins.
Upon these steps in the darkest depths
I search this crypt below
when suddenly I hear a voice
in a tone that's dark and low.
part 2
I declare - you best beware - and be wise of what your seeking
upon your breath - to awaken death - in a place with spirits sleeping
your just a pest - disturbing rest - to dare knock upon my door
so leave my home - my death alone - and return here nevermore.
It's my choice - to hear your voice - I spoke so loud and screeching
upon these steps - in the darkened depths - to know the secrets that your keeping
so here I'll stay - won't go away - and hereby do implore
upon this ground - forsaken ground - to come pounding upon your door
To my surprise - before my eyes - the tomb it started shaking
for in this room - impending doom - his dark soul was awaking
I sensed my fear - when death is near - and heard the sounding door
to see the ghost - I feared the most - as a mist raised from the floor
So there I froze - as death arose - as I stood there freezing
to see those eyes - of the dark arise - of the soul that I was seizing
for you have a gift - a precious gift - and therefore I awaken
upon these steps - in the darkened depths - in the crypt of the forsaken
For I am here - my message clear - and am wise in seeking
to steal your voice - yes its my choice - and place it in safe keeping
to see you thrive - once again alive - I release your chamber door
for you death to be - awake in me - and reside forevermore
I say to thee - just let me be - and give my death respect
as for you - you have no clue - this vision you detect
so I repeat - you best retreat - and close this chamber door
and to leave my home - my death alone - and return here nevermore!
So there I stood - on rotten wood - and would not be mistaken
to come this far - the door ajar - in this crypt of the forsaken
for on this night - this rainy night - I would not let him be
until I host - his chilling ghost - and awaken him in me.
To see the door - his chamber door - I took a peek inside
upon the mist - the frozen mist - to where spirits rest and hide
to see the voice - the spoken voice - of the ghost that I was craven
but then to see - it frightened me - was within a giant raven.
Standing ten feet tall - I heard him call - slamming his chamber door
to see the size - of those ravens eyes - repeating nevermore nevermore
from the haunted depths - I ran up the steps - from the tomb of the forsaken
to leave his home - and his death alone - and never again awaken !
Lying in bed in a pool of his own sweat, cant stand the smell, haven’t moved for over an hour
but right now the farthest thing from his mind is to get a fucking shower
been dope sick all day, gut is wrenching, muscles aching
they say most of it is in your head, but this pain theres no faking
How to get money ? burned every bridge, every friend
things he's done there’s no way he can ever mend
he wants go to rehab, but the waiting list is so long
he is sick of this life, but with heroin its hard to be strong
he has two beutiful children whom he loves very much, he was a good father once
the pain and the shame is far to much, he hasnt even thought about them in months
cant believe mom hasn’t kicked him out
she does threaten to, scream & shout
she has aged so much from the shit he put her through
last winter he overdosed she found him cold and blue
he'd be dead if she didn’t come home just then
sometimes he wishes she'd left him there and this nightmare would just end
she cries herself to sleep each night, thinking about her son
who’s now just an evil, deceitful, junkie fucking scum
the good son, high school honors, a time so long ago
his name is not important, so we shall call him john doe
she sleeps with her purse hidden from her kin
sadly tonight he's out rob her again
doesn’t take him long to locate her wallet
definitely fucked up, whatever you wanna call it
$ 24 dollars was it, two fives and fourteen ones was all he could get
its barely enough to get him “off sick”
it will have 2 do, out the door like a flash
calls his dealer “G” to say “I need 4” cause I finally got some cash
he said met me at the spot, hurry cause im close
wont be more then 5 min, the shady dealer boast
beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck despite the freezing winter wind
another product of dope sickness, he could not stop the quivering of his chin
is it the cold ? is it the impatience ? probably both
without a doubt this endless waiting game is what any junkie hates most
25 minutes passed before johnny called him back
im standing in the cold, where the fuck are you at ?
Chill mutha fucka I’ll be there pretty fast
his suv came into view after another 30 minutes past
his rims still spinning as he slowed to a stop
G glanced back to make sure the oncoming car was no cop
john doe's violontly shanking hands pass him the fives rolled atop the stack of ones
he wanted it to appear as though he had sufficient funds
better not be short again this time, best be $40 in your hand
he passes him a small bundle, secured tightly with a rubber band
before G had a chance to add up all the cash
johnny boy bolted threw a yard, hauling fuckin ass
amazingly he expolodes with a quick burst of adrenaline
its psycological, just knowing he pocesses his savior, his "bad medicine"
he finds an abandoned house with the door left ajar
again every muscle burns, glad he didnt have to go very far
he finds a spot near a window on the second floor, so the street lamp casts a little light
from his pocket he retrieves the tools of his trade, the weapons of his plight
a syringe, a spoon and water filled in a empty 20oz bottle of pop
he stares at 4 glassine envelopes with the name “hot shot” stamped across the top
many people overdosed recently from this particular stamp bag in the hood
suddenly hes like a kid at Christmas, this means there really good !
One by one he dumps them in the spoon
anticipation for the high he will be feeling very soon
he adds some water to make an iced tea colored devils brew
he has no belt so resorts to take the lace out his shoe
finally cotton from the butt of this menthol cigarette
its used as a filter cause if the needle clogs...he is fucked, u can bet
tying off his track marks become noticeably 3 dimensional
deep and dark from years of drug abuse, normal folk would deem unconventional
as he pulls back surprisingly the rig fills with blood, a sign he is in the vein
usually he has to fish around to find one that hasn’t collapsed, like a snowman in the rain
a grin draws wide as he plunches the liquid poison deep in his arm without a care
all his muscles tighten at once as a tremendous warmth took over despite the bitter cold air
as he slumped into the corner he felt as though he was melting into the wall and tried with no avil to shout
deeper and deeper he began to fall out
tunnel vision began to take hold
he stared silently out the window into the cold
the pulsating street light growing dimmer, as his sight was engulfed by darkness... forever darkness behold
the story of the man he COULD have been...
forever untold
The Nightmare of George and Rose (Part 1)
An old man hired me as a Private Detective to find out why his wife had left him 47 years earlier when they were 30 years old. It turned out that she didn't leave him. She was going to, she got in the car with her lover and realized she loved her husband too much, so she told him she was going to stay with her husband George. She started to get out of the car and he grabbed her, pulled her back in the car and told her she had to go with him. She refused and struggled to get out of the car. George had looked out the window just a moment before and saw his wife get in the car. He turned to go outside but twisted his ankle and fell over the small table behind him. He bumped his head and went unconscious. In the mean time, the lover would not let Rose go and wound up choking her to death from holding her so tightly. He didn't realize how hard he had grabbed her or that his hands were around her throat. Just as she died and went limp, he knew what had happened.
He dragged her body into the house and saw George laying on the floor. He decided to hide her body in the basement and leave. After putting her body in a bath tub down in the basement, he walked out, not even checking to see if George was alive or dead.
George had many health problems, one was his bad leg, the one that caused him to fall when it twisted as her turned. When he woke up he was calling out her name, but there was no response. He knew she was gone then, but not in the way he thought. George was unable to walk down the basement stairs and had not been down there ever since he injured his leg in a fall down those very stairs. He became afraid of the stairs after that and never tried, even a few days later when there was a bad smell coming from the basement. He figured an animal had gotten in and died, so even if his leg would allow him to go down and get rid of it, his fear of the stairs was too much for him. So he left the door closed and after a couple of weeks, the smell receded and he went on with his life, never knowing his wife was there in the house all those years. He always wondered why she left and his heart was left an empty void. Rose had no living family, as an only child of parents who had been killed in a car accident after driving half-way home after George and Roses wedding reception. They had been drinking at the reception, Rose became depressed, feeling guilty that she had caused the death of her parents by letting them drive home that night. But her father was no one to be argued with and made his choice. his obedient wife went with him as she had always done before and together they died when the car went off the road and into the river that washed their bodies back down through the darkness they had just come through. By morning, as the sun rose, Rose her some children yelling in her back yard, a little girl began screaming. She got out of bed to see what was the matter and as she went out the back door, she could see two bodies floating by in the river. When she got to the edge of the river, she could see the familiar looking dress on a woman that was face down in the water. And the man, wearing a striking blue suite, the same as the one her father had been wearing the night before, had already passed by the house, too far for her to see his face, but she knew it was him all the same.
Her horror overwhelmed her and she never went into the back yard again. George could not console her and their marriage was never consummated. They loved each other deeply, but she could not let go of the blame she felt and because it was their wedding that lead to her parents death, she was never able to feel the sexual attraction she had so strongly felt the night before, that she so badly wanted to experience, but that they had both had so much to drink themselves, they passed out after getting into bed on their wedding night. After several years, she met a man who stirred those feelings in her again. An affair began on the seventh anniversary of her marriage to George. She was finally able to experience what she had been longing for all her life and she thought she was falling in love with a man who would eventually kill her and leave her body to decay in a cold damp basement.
(continued)
An old man hired me as a Private Detective to find out why his wife had left him 47 years earlier when they were 30 years old. It turned out that she didn't leave him. She was going to, she got in the car with her lover and realized she loved her husband too much, so she told him she was going to stay with her husband George. She started to get out of the car and he grabbed her, pulled her back in the car and told her she had to go with him. She refused and struggled to get out of the car. George had looked out the window just a moment before and saw his wife get in the car. He turned to go outside but twisted his ankle and fell over the small table behind him. He bumped his head and went unconscious. In the mean time, the lover would not let Rose go and wound up choking her to death from holding her so tightly. He didn't realize how hard he had grabbed her or that his hands were around her throat. Just as she died and went limp, he knew what had happened.
He dragged her body into the house and saw George laying on the floor. He decided to hide her body in the basement and leave. After putting her body in a bath tub down in the basement, he walked out, not even checking to see if George was alive or dead.
George had many health problems, one was his bad leg, the one that caused him to fall when it twisted as her turned. When he woke up he was calling out her name, but there was no response. He knew she was gone then, but not in the way he thought. George was unable to walk down the basement stairs and had not been down there ever since he injured his leg in a fall down those very stairs. He became afraid of the stairs after that and never tried, even a few days later when there was a bad smell coming from the basement. He figured an animal had gotten in and died, so even if his leg would allow him to go down and get rid of it, his fear of the stairs was too much for him. So he left the door closed and after a couple of weeks, the smell receded and he went on with his life, never knowing his wife was there in the house all those years. He always wondered why she left and his heart was left an empty void. Rose had no living family, as an only child of parents who had been killed in a car accident after driving half-way home after George and Roses wedding reception. They had been drinking at the reception, Rose became depressed, feeling guilty that she had caused the death of her parents by letting them drive home that night. But her father was no one to be argued with and made his choice. his obedient wife went with him as she had always done before and together they died when the car went off the road and into the river that washed their bodies back down through the darkness they had just come through. By morning, as the sun rose, Rose her some children yelling in her back yard, a little girl began screaming. She got out of bed to see what was the matter and as she went out the back door, she could see two bodies floating by in the river. When she got to the edge of the river, she could see the familiar looking dress on a woman that was face down in the water. And the man, wearing a striking blue suite, the same as the one her father had been wearing the night before, had already passed by the house, too far for her to see his face, but she knew it was him all the same.
Her horror overwhelmed her and she never went into the back yard again. George could not console her and their marriage was never consummated. They loved each other deeply, but she could not let go of the blame she felt and because it was their wedding that lead to her parents death, she was never able to feel the sexual attraction she had so strongly felt the night before, that she so badly wanted to experience, but that they had both had so much to drink themselves, they passed out after getting into bed on their wedding night. After several years, she met a man who stirred those feelings in her again. An affair began on the seventh anniversary of her marriage to George. She was finally able to experience what she had been longing for all her life and she thought she was falling in love with a man who would eventually kill her and leave her body to decay in a cold damp basement.
(continued)
The Nightmare of George and Rose (Part 2)
47 years passed and George was not feeling well. He feared he was dying as his body was becoming more a prison that a vessel for his soul. I was working in my office, solving all manner of cases involving missing persons as a Private Detective. It was not uncommon for people to call after the police had long given up on cold cases, usually marking the cases as run aways or broken marriages or unknown. In Roses case, George had never called the police because he always assumed Rose had just left him for another man. There was no one to wonder about her, as all of the friends she had in the past had stopped calling on her during the years of depression following her parents death. She had become reclusive, only going out to the store where the handsome manager would help her get her groceries and load them into her car. He seemed so kind and his hands never gave away the cold hard grip she would one day experience around her neck, in the final moments of her life. His touch was never so hard when he would gently carry her to his bed on the nights when Georges pain medication would mysteriously cause him to fall into a deep sleep all the while she was out of the house.
The nights of passion she had wanted to spend with George were given to a man who lusted for her and wanted her under her control, there in his home, to be caged as a slave for his desires. He would do anything to have such a beautiful woman at his beck and call, to do his bidding and his body in any way he desired. Her passion had been unleashed, her only happy moments since her wedding were in the arms of a deceitful monster that would never love her, but that she was too far gone from reality to see him for what he really was.
after George called me, another call came in, but the line was all static. I could barely make out the woman's voice, asking me if I could help her find her husband who had left her 47 years ago...
Before I could ask her any questions, the line went dead. I thought what an odd coincidence that two people would call looking for their spouses who had both disappeared at the same time.
I went to the address George had given me, but when I got to the house, there was a woman waiting for me and she said she was so glad I had come because she wasn't sure if I had gotten the address before the phone disconnected. She told me her name was Rose and she invited me inside. She was walking behind me, so I opened the door and walked in, holding the door for her to come in when suddenly a mans voice shouted, "who the Hell are you and what do you think you're doing in my house?"
I told him who I was and he interrupted me, wanting to know why I would just walk in his house without ringing the bell. I looked behind me but Rose was not there, which spooked me, but I was now already in the house and curious about what was going on. I thought maybe I had gotten in the middle of some domestic squabble or an old couple with Alzheimer's disease who couldn't remember anything from one minute to the next. Little did I realize the dark truth I was about to discover and the grizzly remains that I would be looking at face to face in just a short time.
George began to tell me the story of how his wife Rose had left him on that day so long ago, about seeing her get in the car and how he fell and hit his head. He told me how she was gone when he woke up and never saw her again. He said that before he died, he wanted to know why she had left him and where she had been, who she had been with and if it was his fault that she left.
While I was there, the doorbell rang. It was the local grocer coming with Georges weekly delivery of food and other goods he required. He was unable to get out of the house anymore, so the manager was kind enough to stop by with whatever he needed each week. He seemed so kind and even went down to the basement to help him with his laundry while he was there. George was grateful to have someone so willing to help him, he had left everything in his will to the store manager who kept his laundry clean and made sure he had food to eat. What a nice man, he thought. But why did he stay in the basement while the laundry was washing and drying? Surely he could come back upstairs and talk a while. he never did, but he also never asked for any extra money for his efforts. He remembered that his wife had always had nice things to say about the manager when she would come home from the market, how he carried the groceries out to the car for her and made sure she had all the items on her shopping list. So he knew that a man so kind to his wife was someone he could trust.
So while he was there, unloading the groceries into the cupboards, he kept looking at me in an odd sort of way. After he was done, he told George he would not be able to do the laundry this week, he had some things to take care of elsewhere. Her seemed very nervous and wouldn't look me in the eye. Leaving in a hurry, he didn't even say goodbye to George, which caused an uneasiness in the room that remained for some time after he was gone. While George was collecting his thoughts, I saw Rose walk down the hallway to the basement door. Just when she was reaching for the door, she turned to look at me as if to say something, but George snapped his fingers and asked me if I was paying attention to him and told me to stop daydreaming.
He said he was not sure what he was going to do about clean clothes now that the grocer had left. he had enough for a couple of days, but would run out mid week. So I offered to help him out because I wanted to get some time alone with Rose to ask her what the Hell was going on. I saw her at the door to the basement, but after George got my attention, by the time I looked back, she was not there, so I assumed she must have gone downstairs. I would ask her why she just didn't do them for him, and I started to think that maybe she was the reason why the store manager always stayed down there while he did the laundry. Maybe it was always her doing the laundry, and maybe doing the grocer too. Kinda gave me the heebee geebees thinking of two 70 something old geezers getting it on in the laundry room, but I had to know what was going on with this couple.
47 years passed and George was not feeling well. He feared he was dying as his body was becoming more a prison that a vessel for his soul. I was working in my office, solving all manner of cases involving missing persons as a Private Detective. It was not uncommon for people to call after the police had long given up on cold cases, usually marking the cases as run aways or broken marriages or unknown. In Roses case, George had never called the police because he always assumed Rose had just left him for another man. There was no one to wonder about her, as all of the friends she had in the past had stopped calling on her during the years of depression following her parents death. She had become reclusive, only going out to the store where the handsome manager would help her get her groceries and load them into her car. He seemed so kind and his hands never gave away the cold hard grip she would one day experience around her neck, in the final moments of her life. His touch was never so hard when he would gently carry her to his bed on the nights when Georges pain medication would mysteriously cause him to fall into a deep sleep all the while she was out of the house.
The nights of passion she had wanted to spend with George were given to a man who lusted for her and wanted her under her control, there in his home, to be caged as a slave for his desires. He would do anything to have such a beautiful woman at his beck and call, to do his bidding and his body in any way he desired. Her passion had been unleashed, her only happy moments since her wedding were in the arms of a deceitful monster that would never love her, but that she was too far gone from reality to see him for what he really was.
after George called me, another call came in, but the line was all static. I could barely make out the woman's voice, asking me if I could help her find her husband who had left her 47 years ago...
Before I could ask her any questions, the line went dead. I thought what an odd coincidence that two people would call looking for their spouses who had both disappeared at the same time.
I went to the address George had given me, but when I got to the house, there was a woman waiting for me and she said she was so glad I had come because she wasn't sure if I had gotten the address before the phone disconnected. She told me her name was Rose and she invited me inside. She was walking behind me, so I opened the door and walked in, holding the door for her to come in when suddenly a mans voice shouted, "who the Hell are you and what do you think you're doing in my house?"
I told him who I was and he interrupted me, wanting to know why I would just walk in his house without ringing the bell. I looked behind me but Rose was not there, which spooked me, but I was now already in the house and curious about what was going on. I thought maybe I had gotten in the middle of some domestic squabble or an old couple with Alzheimer's disease who couldn't remember anything from one minute to the next. Little did I realize the dark truth I was about to discover and the grizzly remains that I would be looking at face to face in just a short time.
George began to tell me the story of how his wife Rose had left him on that day so long ago, about seeing her get in the car and how he fell and hit his head. He told me how she was gone when he woke up and never saw her again. He said that before he died, he wanted to know why she had left him and where she had been, who she had been with and if it was his fault that she left.
While I was there, the doorbell rang. It was the local grocer coming with Georges weekly delivery of food and other goods he required. He was unable to get out of the house anymore, so the manager was kind enough to stop by with whatever he needed each week. He seemed so kind and even went down to the basement to help him with his laundry while he was there. George was grateful to have someone so willing to help him, he had left everything in his will to the store manager who kept his laundry clean and made sure he had food to eat. What a nice man, he thought. But why did he stay in the basement while the laundry was washing and drying? Surely he could come back upstairs and talk a while. he never did, but he also never asked for any extra money for his efforts. He remembered that his wife had always had nice things to say about the manager when she would come home from the market, how he carried the groceries out to the car for her and made sure she had all the items on her shopping list. So he knew that a man so kind to his wife was someone he could trust.
So while he was there, unloading the groceries into the cupboards, he kept looking at me in an odd sort of way. After he was done, he told George he would not be able to do the laundry this week, he had some things to take care of elsewhere. Her seemed very nervous and wouldn't look me in the eye. Leaving in a hurry, he didn't even say goodbye to George, which caused an uneasiness in the room that remained for some time after he was gone. While George was collecting his thoughts, I saw Rose walk down the hallway to the basement door. Just when she was reaching for the door, she turned to look at me as if to say something, but George snapped his fingers and asked me if I was paying attention to him and told me to stop daydreaming.
He said he was not sure what he was going to do about clean clothes now that the grocer had left. he had enough for a couple of days, but would run out mid week. So I offered to help him out because I wanted to get some time alone with Rose to ask her what the Hell was going on. I saw her at the door to the basement, but after George got my attention, by the time I looked back, she was not there, so I assumed she must have gone downstairs. I would ask her why she just didn't do them for him, and I started to think that maybe she was the reason why the store manager always stayed down there while he did the laundry. Maybe it was always her doing the laundry, and maybe doing the grocer too. Kinda gave me the heebee geebees thinking of two 70 something old geezers getting it on in the laundry room, but I had to know what was going on with this couple.
The Nightmare of George and Rose (Part 3)
George finished telling me all about his wife and asked me if there was any way I could help him find her. I told him I was absolutely sure I could and it probably wouldn't take me very long at all. So we rapped up our discussion and I told George I would go down and take care of the laundry for him. He was so thankful for my willingness to help with the laundry I thought he was going to jump up from the chair and hug me.
When I got down the hallway to the door, I reached to turn the knob. It was ice cold and wouldn't open. I asked George if there was a trick to opening the door, but he told me he wasn't sure, he hadn't been down there in years. I saw that there was a lock on the door, so I asked him where the key was. He didn't know, but the grocer was always able to get down there, so it must be somewhere around there. I had just seen Rose at the door a short time before, so I wondered if she had taken it with her down into the basement. I noticed to bolt in the doorknob had just enough space for a screw driver to fit in and I might be able to pry it open. I asked George if he had a toolbox and he told me yes, but it was in the basement. But he did have another screw driver in the kitchen drawer by the sink. I went to get it and when I got back to the hallway, I saw that the door was open. So I figured his wife had come back up and left it open for me. As I began to walk down the stairs, I felt a cold breeze on my arms and a chill come over my entire body. The lights were on, but it seemed strangely dark and musty. The washer and dryer were right there by the bottom of the stairs, but I heard a noise come from another room further into the basement. It sounded like someone whispering and splashing water. I called out, "Rose, is that you", but no one responded. The lights were not on at the far end of the cellar, so I tried flicking the light switch, but had no luck. There was a flashlight by the washing machine, so I grabbed it and walked down the hallway to the other room. I saw that there was no light bulb in the outlet, but there were a couple of them on the floor right next to where I was standing. I screwed one in the socket and it went on immediately. I still had the other one in my hand, but now the room was partly illuminated. I could see the figure of someone in a bathtub, but it was still to dark to make out who it was. I called out again, "Rose, is that you?" But no answer came forth. The flashlight went out just as I was about to point it at the person in the tub. I reached up to the ceiling where I had seen another empty light socket just before the light died. I fiddled about until I found it and was able to screw the bulb in. As the light came on and illuminated the room, I saw her, laying in a tub of water that was rippling as though someone had slapped the surface of the water just a second before. Her face was hollow, her skin was black as coal, her eyes were empty sockets like the light bulbs had been missing just moments before. There was no life in her and had not been for 47 years. The water was black like midnight and there was a powerful odor of bleach in the air. I noticed bottles of bleach opened and empty all around the basement room floor. Then I heard it, a scream coming from the laundry room. I ran back and looked around the room, but no one was there. I called up to George and asked him if he was alright. he said yes, everything was fine.
Just then the door at the top of the stairs closed and I could see someone standing next to me out of the corner of my eye. Without looking, I said "Rose, is that you?" and an answer came back this time. She said, "yes, why do you keep asking me if that's me? I've said yes three time already. Now when are you going to help me find my husband?"
She told me how she thought her husband must have found out about an affair she had many years ago and that right after she decided not to leave him and end the affair, George disappeared and never came back home again. She wanted to find him and apologize for her infidelity and beg him to forgive her. She vowed to stay with him and take care of him until the day she died.
I told her that I knew where her husband was, and that he was nearby. I explained that he thought she had left him many years ago for another man and he was heartbroken. She asked me why he left and where he went? I told he was never left, he was here in the house and had been here all these years hoping that someday you would come home to him. She said that was impossible, she had been living here all this time and he was not there. I asked her how it could be that two who loved each other could exist in the same house for 47 years and not see each other or hear each others lonely cries in the night. She asked me, had he died and has been a ghost haunting the house for so long? She told me there were times when she felt someone washing her in cold water from time to time, that someone would touch her in her sleep and bring her deep pleasures, but she would always wake up alone and cold like the river.
I told her no, he was alive, though not well, feeling close to death. he called me to see if I could find you before he died and let you know that you are welcome to come back, that he longed to hold you in his arms again and had only survived all these years from the hope you would return.
I told her that there was a ghost in the house, but it was not her husband's ghost. She looked at me with a frightful expression, asking me what I was talking about. She had been living in this house alone for 47 years. I asked her to come up stairs and sit with me in the living room where George is waiting for her.
At first she said no, called me crazy and told me to get out. She began screaming at me, accusing me of lying and throwing everything within reach at me. I started running up the stairs, but the door was locked again. I heard George on the other side of the door, asking me if I needed help. I told him yes, that someone was in the basement attacking him. Rose came up the stairs and grabbed me by the neck. She began to choke me and I wondered how an apparition could be crushing my neck with so much force. I could feel myself passing out as I fell down the stairs.
George finished telling me all about his wife and asked me if there was any way I could help him find her. I told him I was absolutely sure I could and it probably wouldn't take me very long at all. So we rapped up our discussion and I told George I would go down and take care of the laundry for him. He was so thankful for my willingness to help with the laundry I thought he was going to jump up from the chair and hug me.
When I got down the hallway to the door, I reached to turn the knob. It was ice cold and wouldn't open. I asked George if there was a trick to opening the door, but he told me he wasn't sure, he hadn't been down there in years. I saw that there was a lock on the door, so I asked him where the key was. He didn't know, but the grocer was always able to get down there, so it must be somewhere around there. I had just seen Rose at the door a short time before, so I wondered if she had taken it with her down into the basement. I noticed to bolt in the doorknob had just enough space for a screw driver to fit in and I might be able to pry it open. I asked George if he had a toolbox and he told me yes, but it was in the basement. But he did have another screw driver in the kitchen drawer by the sink. I went to get it and when I got back to the hallway, I saw that the door was open. So I figured his wife had come back up and left it open for me. As I began to walk down the stairs, I felt a cold breeze on my arms and a chill come over my entire body. The lights were on, but it seemed strangely dark and musty. The washer and dryer were right there by the bottom of the stairs, but I heard a noise come from another room further into the basement. It sounded like someone whispering and splashing water. I called out, "Rose, is that you", but no one responded. The lights were not on at the far end of the cellar, so I tried flicking the light switch, but had no luck. There was a flashlight by the washing machine, so I grabbed it and walked down the hallway to the other room. I saw that there was no light bulb in the outlet, but there were a couple of them on the floor right next to where I was standing. I screwed one in the socket and it went on immediately. I still had the other one in my hand, but now the room was partly illuminated. I could see the figure of someone in a bathtub, but it was still to dark to make out who it was. I called out again, "Rose, is that you?" But no answer came forth. The flashlight went out just as I was about to point it at the person in the tub. I reached up to the ceiling where I had seen another empty light socket just before the light died. I fiddled about until I found it and was able to screw the bulb in. As the light came on and illuminated the room, I saw her, laying in a tub of water that was rippling as though someone had slapped the surface of the water just a second before. Her face was hollow, her skin was black as coal, her eyes were empty sockets like the light bulbs had been missing just moments before. There was no life in her and had not been for 47 years. The water was black like midnight and there was a powerful odor of bleach in the air. I noticed bottles of bleach opened and empty all around the basement room floor. Then I heard it, a scream coming from the laundry room. I ran back and looked around the room, but no one was there. I called up to George and asked him if he was alright. he said yes, everything was fine.
Just then the door at the top of the stairs closed and I could see someone standing next to me out of the corner of my eye. Without looking, I said "Rose, is that you?" and an answer came back this time. She said, "yes, why do you keep asking me if that's me? I've said yes three time already. Now when are you going to help me find my husband?"
She told me how she thought her husband must have found out about an affair she had many years ago and that right after she decided not to leave him and end the affair, George disappeared and never came back home again. She wanted to find him and apologize for her infidelity and beg him to forgive her. She vowed to stay with him and take care of him until the day she died.
I told her that I knew where her husband was, and that he was nearby. I explained that he thought she had left him many years ago for another man and he was heartbroken. She asked me why he left and where he went? I told he was never left, he was here in the house and had been here all these years hoping that someday you would come home to him. She said that was impossible, she had been living here all this time and he was not there. I asked her how it could be that two who loved each other could exist in the same house for 47 years and not see each other or hear each others lonely cries in the night. She asked me, had he died and has been a ghost haunting the house for so long? She told me there were times when she felt someone washing her in cold water from time to time, that someone would touch her in her sleep and bring her deep pleasures, but she would always wake up alone and cold like the river.
I told her no, he was alive, though not well, feeling close to death. he called me to see if I could find you before he died and let you know that you are welcome to come back, that he longed to hold you in his arms again and had only survived all these years from the hope you would return.
I told her that there was a ghost in the house, but it was not her husband's ghost. She looked at me with a frightful expression, asking me what I was talking about. She had been living in this house alone for 47 years. I asked her to come up stairs and sit with me in the living room where George is waiting for her.
At first she said no, called me crazy and told me to get out. She began screaming at me, accusing me of lying and throwing everything within reach at me. I started running up the stairs, but the door was locked again. I heard George on the other side of the door, asking me if I needed help. I told him yes, that someone was in the basement attacking him. Rose came up the stairs and grabbed me by the neck. She began to choke me and I wondered how an apparition could be crushing my neck with so much force. I could feel myself passing out as I fell down the stairs.
The Nightmare of George and Rose (Part 4 - the conclusion)
When I opened my eyes, George was standing over me. He told me he was frightened to death but he knew he had to help me. He asked who was there, that had attacked me. I told him she went down the hallway to the room at the far end of the basement. But I told him to be careful, she was very angry and very, very strong. He opened his old toolbox that had been sitting there on the cellar floor for over 50 years. He pulled out a hammer and a saw and proceeded cautiously toward the room where I told him she was. I got up and grabbed a wrench and screw driver for my own protection and followed George down the hall. I told him that I had seen something in the room earlier that he might not want to see. He asked me what and I just told him that if he was going to go in there, he was going to find the answer he had been looking for all this time. He hesitated and then started walking again, more slowly than before and with a shake to his hands that he could have cut down a tree with the saw he was carrying in one hand and hammered a hundred nails through knots in wood like a jack hammer.
The light was still coming through the door from my earlier visit into the silent tomb. as we reached the door a voice came from behind. Rose was standing there, calling Georges name. He turned to see her, glowing as beautiful as the day they married. Tears streaming down her face, and just as quickly down his own. George never looked into the room, and as they embraced I turned to walk away. George and Rose each said thank you at the same time, for finding the one each had sought for all these years. I said I hadn't done a thing, just came over to help them clean some dirty laundry that had been laying around for a lifetime.
As I was leaving, I walked past the living room where I had been talking with George earlier. he was sitting there in his chair, his eyes were closed and no breath was coming from his open mouth. The house was still and a breeze came from the basement, warm like sunlight on a hot summer day. It blew all around the living room, into the kitchen where it lifted a grocery bag up into the air and then it fell to the floor. I picked up the bag and saw the receipt inside. It had the store location printed on it along with the name of the store manager. I decided to pay him a visit and maybe raise some serious Hell while I was there.
When I got to the store, it was closed and abandoned for what looked like many, many years. There was a barber shop across the lot from the store, so I went over and asked how long the store had been close. The barber was an old man who told me the store had shut down 47 years ago after the store manager went crazy and shot two of his cashiers before killing himself with a bullet through his brain. I asked him what the managers name was and when he told me, I looked at the receipt in my hand, with his name printed on the bottom just above the date, from the day he killed two cashiers, himself and Rose.
At that moment an icy breeze blew around the lot and raised a dust cloud that was blowing papers and dirt everywhere. I had to close my eyes to keep from being blinded. The wind was so strong it knocked me down and yanked the receipt out of my hand. As the wind calmed, I opened my eyes to find myself laying in my bed at home, alone and not sure if it was all a dream or a story that George and Rose needed to be told.
A few days later, I was driving down a road that seemed eerily familiar. I didn't recall having been down it before, but for some reason, all the houses seemed like I had seen them all before. Then it happened, I saw it, George and Roses home. I slammed on the brakes and my tires screeched on the pavement. A woman bent over and doing some gardening in front of the house jumped out of her shoes from the startling noise. She walked towards my car and asked if I was OK and if I needed any help. I pulled over and got out of the car, looking at the house in amazement. I asked her if her name was Rose by any chance. She said "Heavens No"! She told me her Aunt was named Rose, but that she had been dead for years. She inherited the house from her Uncle George after he died. She said that there was a great mystery surrounding how her Aunt had died. Her body was found in a tub in the basement after her Uncle was found dead in a chair in the living room. She had been dead for many years, no one was sure how long or how she had died. They said that George had a serious leg injury that made it impossible to walk up and down the steep cellar stairs, so they did not believe he even knew she was down there. They said there was evidence that someone had been there recently doing laundry and that there were signs that Roses body had been tampered with and moved around frequently, but there was no DNA or any evidence found to give a clue to who had been there. There were not even finger prints on the washer and dryer that still had clothes in them. The washer had not been run and the clothes were covered in dirt. There was a drain at the far end of the cellar that constantly gurgled from water that would back up from the river whenever it rained. The floor was always wet around the drain and as black as midnight from the mud. Roses wedding ring was found sitting on the dryer at the bottom of the stairs. It's a mystery that may never be solved.
I then told her, I had this dream a few days ago, I think you are the reason why I had it. Let me tell you the story of George and Rose and how there love endures to this day.
JJ Johnson
Poetryman
When I opened my eyes, George was standing over me. He told me he was frightened to death but he knew he had to help me. He asked who was there, that had attacked me. I told him she went down the hallway to the room at the far end of the basement. But I told him to be careful, she was very angry and very, very strong. He opened his old toolbox that had been sitting there on the cellar floor for over 50 years. He pulled out a hammer and a saw and proceeded cautiously toward the room where I told him she was. I got up and grabbed a wrench and screw driver for my own protection and followed George down the hall. I told him that I had seen something in the room earlier that he might not want to see. He asked me what and I just told him that if he was going to go in there, he was going to find the answer he had been looking for all this time. He hesitated and then started walking again, more slowly than before and with a shake to his hands that he could have cut down a tree with the saw he was carrying in one hand and hammered a hundred nails through knots in wood like a jack hammer.
The light was still coming through the door from my earlier visit into the silent tomb. as we reached the door a voice came from behind. Rose was standing there, calling Georges name. He turned to see her, glowing as beautiful as the day they married. Tears streaming down her face, and just as quickly down his own. George never looked into the room, and as they embraced I turned to walk away. George and Rose each said thank you at the same time, for finding the one each had sought for all these years. I said I hadn't done a thing, just came over to help them clean some dirty laundry that had been laying around for a lifetime.
As I was leaving, I walked past the living room where I had been talking with George earlier. he was sitting there in his chair, his eyes were closed and no breath was coming from his open mouth. The house was still and a breeze came from the basement, warm like sunlight on a hot summer day. It blew all around the living room, into the kitchen where it lifted a grocery bag up into the air and then it fell to the floor. I picked up the bag and saw the receipt inside. It had the store location printed on it along with the name of the store manager. I decided to pay him a visit and maybe raise some serious Hell while I was there.
When I got to the store, it was closed and abandoned for what looked like many, many years. There was a barber shop across the lot from the store, so I went over and asked how long the store had been close. The barber was an old man who told me the store had shut down 47 years ago after the store manager went crazy and shot two of his cashiers before killing himself with a bullet through his brain. I asked him what the managers name was and when he told me, I looked at the receipt in my hand, with his name printed on the bottom just above the date, from the day he killed two cashiers, himself and Rose.
At that moment an icy breeze blew around the lot and raised a dust cloud that was blowing papers and dirt everywhere. I had to close my eyes to keep from being blinded. The wind was so strong it knocked me down and yanked the receipt out of my hand. As the wind calmed, I opened my eyes to find myself laying in my bed at home, alone and not sure if it was all a dream or a story that George and Rose needed to be told.
A few days later, I was driving down a road that seemed eerily familiar. I didn't recall having been down it before, but for some reason, all the houses seemed like I had seen them all before. Then it happened, I saw it, George and Roses home. I slammed on the brakes and my tires screeched on the pavement. A woman bent over and doing some gardening in front of the house jumped out of her shoes from the startling noise. She walked towards my car and asked if I was OK and if I needed any help. I pulled over and got out of the car, looking at the house in amazement. I asked her if her name was Rose by any chance. She said "Heavens No"! She told me her Aunt was named Rose, but that she had been dead for years. She inherited the house from her Uncle George after he died. She said that there was a great mystery surrounding how her Aunt had died. Her body was found in a tub in the basement after her Uncle was found dead in a chair in the living room. She had been dead for many years, no one was sure how long or how she had died. They said that George had a serious leg injury that made it impossible to walk up and down the steep cellar stairs, so they did not believe he even knew she was down there. They said there was evidence that someone had been there recently doing laundry and that there were signs that Roses body had been tampered with and moved around frequently, but there was no DNA or any evidence found to give a clue to who had been there. There were not even finger prints on the washer and dryer that still had clothes in them. The washer had not been run and the clothes were covered in dirt. There was a drain at the far end of the cellar that constantly gurgled from water that would back up from the river whenever it rained. The floor was always wet around the drain and as black as midnight from the mud. Roses wedding ring was found sitting on the dryer at the bottom of the stairs. It's a mystery that may never be solved.
I then told her, I had this dream a few days ago, I think you are the reason why I had it. Let me tell you the story of George and Rose and how there love endures to this day.
JJ Johnson
Poetryman
wow..
