Stolen

Our story starts out like any other. We were having a great day walking along the beach in the warm summer weather. We were having such a great time laughing and running on the sand. We took breaks to swim in the slightly cold water of Lake Michigan.  We even chased down the ice cream truck for a snack. We stopped and talked to some boys in our class. We played some beach ball with them for a while. The day is such an enjoyable day. Filled with sunshine and love of life, nothing like what happens next. What happens next ruins the whole memory of that day!

As Wanda and I got out of the water we saw him. Oh how gorgeous of a man he is. What a handsome man. We were both drooling over him. Now thinking back, I should have seen it there in his eyes. I should have known how evil this man was with that smile that at the time I thought was the sweetest.  He looked like a movie star standing there on the sand looking out into the water.

We walked out of the water talking to each other.

“Joyce. Look at his blonde hair.”

“Oh I know. Look at those blue eyes.”

At that time, I shivered. I thought it was from anticipation of seeing a living god in front of me, now I wonder if it was because I really knew by looking at those eyes.

“Hello ladies.” He shot us a brilliant smile. “How are you today?”

We melted. Then he asks, “Would you like to join me for a bite to eat?”

Wanda of course jumped right in with, “Oh hell yes.”

It was like a spell was placed on us the moment we laid eyes on him. It was fate. It was something you just couldn’t change even if you wanted to. It was meant to be and meant to happen.  I couldn’t stop it. It is like a dream where you keep on falling but you never reach the bottom.  He stayed with us on the beach for about an hour or so until we all decided to leave out of hunger. The endless talking we did but then as I recall, he didn’t talk much. Wanda and I did the talking as I think back about it. We went for dinner at a local spot Wanda and I loved.  I had a split second thought when I went to the bathroom about running out of there, but I couldn’t leave Wanda. I just chalked it up to nerves. I mean, how often are you going to get a chance to eat dinner with some fabulous looking man? I kicked that nagging thought to the side and walked back out to the table.

After we had dinner, we went riding in his car. That is when the horror began. He stopped at a store. We thought just to purchase something, but it turns out he decided to rob the place. He took several items. He gave me a brilliant ruby and diamond ring and Wanda got an emerald and diamond ring. We were ecstatic.  We were giggling like school girls thinking how lucky we were to have this guy buy us such expensive rings. I loved the way my ring looked in the street lights as we were driving down the road.  I even kissed it. It was the first item I ever got from someone who wasn’t a relative. My thought was that he must really like me or love me even.  I started to daydream even about a wedding between the two of us.

Little did we know the shop owner lost his life and the rings we are wearing is blood money.  We had no idea he even robbed the place nor that our lives were next on the line. But something kept nudging me. Something down deep inside knew. I had thought for a moment to leave the car while he was in the shop. I thought about asking Wanda if she just wanted to walk away but I could tell she didn’t. She was enjoying herself and smiling like I have never seen her smile in all our years together.

He took us out to his cabin. What an amazingly beautiful cabin it is. The moment I stepped out of the car it felt like home. It was so peaceful. I looked up at the night sky seeing all the stars blinking down at me. The fireplace was the best feature but now even that seems like a faint nightmare one is trying to make into a dream. He gave Wanda and I a drink. Little did either of us know he laced it with something. It made me sick. I couldn’t keep my head up. I was so dizzy and my head was spinning all around. I heard Wanda scream but it seems so faint and distant now. It was like I was in a dream state dancing in a circle. I should have never left with that man, ever.

I passed out without knowing what he did to Wanda.  When I finally woke up, I was in the cellar of his cabin. Not a great place to be when spiders are you worst enemy. It was filled with webs and all these eyes looking back at me. I thought I could even see them drool in their excitement for fresh food. I screamed til I was hoarse, but no one came to rescue me. I thought I was going to be spider food since they were closing in on me building their webs right around my body until a hand reached down and pulled me by my hair up to the surface. I started screaming. He took out a knife and cut out my tongue. That is when my nightmare really began. He took me to his bedroom, tied me to the bed, cut off my clothes, and then started his torture on me. He first used a belt to make open wounds. I thought he was done when he left the bedroom but he came back with something in a glass jar. It was lemon juice and salt. I screamed as much as I could but it is harder when you don’t have a tongue. The more I screamed the more he smiled. He just loves watching me in pain. I finally passed out. When I woke up again, I saw him sitting in a chair smoking a cigarette.

“Finally,” he said to me, “thought you were never going to wake back up.”

This time he had a whip. That really stung.  The blood came rolling off my thigh.  He severed my left breast right in two with that whip. I screamed as much as I could. The pain. The lashes. What was I going to do? Then I passed out.

I have no clue how I managed to get here. I am still waiting for someone to tell me where Wanda is, but no one seems to listen. Maybe it is because I don’t have a tongue? Maybe they can’t make out what I am saying. I wish I could find Wanda. I need my best friend right now. I need her to tell me everything is going to be okay.

I walked up to several of the police people but they just act like I don’t exist.  I just wish someone would look at me and hear my story. I wish they would tell me what happened to Wanda. I haven’t seen her since we were both drinking that seemingly innocent drink.  I wish I could see her and know everything is going to be alright. She is my rock. She is my best friend. She is all I have in this world.

“WHERE IS WANDA!?”

A small pause then I screamed one more time with everything I have.

“WHERE THE HELL IS WANDA!?”

No answer. No one even turns around to look at me. What the hell is going on here? Why won’t these people acknowledge me? Why won’t one of them answer the most simplest question? Where is Wanda? Why isn’t she here next to me? I just don’t understand these fools. What the hell is wrong with them that they won’t answer me?

Standing here all you see is red and blue lights creating a purple hue. People are talking to one another. They are writing down stuff. They are drawing pictures and taking pictures with cameras.  They have quite an area around the house taped off with yellow plastic tape. The place seems so chaotic where at one time it seemed so peaceful.  I just want to find Wanda. I just need to find her. I know she is here somewhere. I just don’t know why they won’t tell me where she is at when I ask them. I just stand here watching them take out body bag after body bag and they just keep ignoring me.

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The day the music died!

When I was 15 years old something grand happened in my town of Escanaba, Steve and Sue Seymour opened a record store they named the Record Rack! This was the best thing EVER in da 1980’s. I know every generation thinks theirs is the best but ours was the first to really get the newer ideas like the Record Rack. The alternative was Woolworths and Shopko. Where you could get some awesome deals by the way, but it didn’t have the same atmosphere as the Record Rack had. There was just something about walking in the door, hearing music play, and looking through the album selections while wearing your fedora hat and your shoulder pads. Our hair was ratted with Aqua Net and no one cared if you smoked cigarettes in the store. This was our time. The best time in history and it was made even greater by the introduction of the Record Rack! This shaped my whole teenage years. This made my life worth living. This gave me something I couldn’t have at a time when it wasn’t readily available. Come on! This is a time before the internet was popular, only the rich had cell phones, and a time when the best thing you could own was a walkman!

My friends and I hustled to get a look and were amazed by all the vinyl they had! What an amazing concept. We so needed this in my generation. It was hard to find certain bands at Shopko. Here we could get Duran Duran, WHAM!, Dire Straits, A-Ha, Motley Crue, and so much more like Jazz records, man.

The Record Rack became a teenager’s hangout where the music flowed and you were able to find anything your heart desired on cassette tape or vinyl record. There is nothing like the sound of 33 1/3 rpm record playing in its scratchy sound. That was what our albums were 33 1/3. Our 45’s, as we called them, were for a single song! We even had 12” singles that were the longer versions of a single song.

They were the best people ever! They could order us those rare albums from Canada and the UK. I had found out that Duran Duran had an album that only was made for England, the Seymour’s ordered it for me and within 2 weeks, I got the call. There was that special album that was only released in the UK. Oh my joy! The excitement of hearing a different version of an album! That is what makes your day as a teenager.

My friend Amy had heard of a band from Canada called Platinum Blonde. You betcha, the Seymours obtained three of their albums for Amy. We went back to her house and listened like mad men to their songs! The three albums were, Standing in the Dark, Alien Shores, and Contact. She even bought Edie Brickell & New Bohemians album from there. Now you want to talk about a sound. That is one great band!

My friend Dave, who has always wanted to be my boyfriend, bought me an album there and brought it over to my cousin Bobbi’s house. Bobbi even said it was my favorite band and I would love it.

I loved it. I couldn’t wait to get money. Everything I earned would go to a new album and I bought it at the Record Rack. On July 25, 2015, the Record Rack will be closing its doors forever. This is going to be a very sad day for all in Escanaba. This is a part of everyone’s fondest memories. We all wish Sue & Steve a wonderful retirement! I will forever be grateful to having the Record Rack and giving me the gift of music.

Da Weekend Before Yule

Twas da weekend before Yule

And all through da house

Not a pastie was turnin

Not even a beer was bein drinkin

Da weekend was quiet

and it was filled with cheer

We decorated da tree

We sang our songs to Joe

We ate pasties all night long

while watchin it snow

We played Euchre by da fire

and told Yooper jokes

We laughed and we giggled

while we made scones.

We added whiskey to our coffee

and our egg nog as well.

We all talked about that

Finnish elf dat would appear.

We sure did enjoy ourselves way to much

Let’s hope that someone stays sober enough.

We gathered our neighbors by singing songs

As we walked down da Truax road in our long johns.

We even had some funny deer appear in da middle of da road.

We took dere pictures but dey came out all blurry.

We weren’t too sure if it was because we were drunk or the blizzard dat night

Den that strange man came out of da woods

He gave us a beer from out of his pouch.

And came with us singin from house to house.

But den in da morning we heard with delight

Joe talking to da stranger dat partied with us last night.

He was laughin and talkin to that jolly fat man

Dey were fightin over his blanket and toast with jam.

When dat old fat man saw us, he blew dust in our eyes

Den he winked at Joe and with total surprise

He disappeared from our sight!

Now as we all sit here playin Euchre during our Yule season

while drinkin da beer he left behind.

We keep on gabbin bout dat fat man and his deer

And all we hear from Joe is laughin with delight as doud dere was a joke bout dat fat man, his beer, and deer dat partied with us last night.

The Tin Box and Lois

I set out on my morning journey looking for antiques at various estate sales. Once a person dies you find the greatest of treasures when the family finally decides to sell off what they no longer want. While looking at one estate sale, I found a little tin box with a bird on it. I have never seen one like it before. Nothing was stamped on it like other tin boxes that say container made in Holland or made in China. It was made out of a metal I don’t recognize and looks handmade. It has what appears to be a silver lining all around the box and the detail of the artful top with the bird and tree branch made it seem so inviting. I couldn’t believe it. I was drawn to it. It was almost as if it was calling me. Like it was saying my name over and over. I put it down several times, but I kept going back to it. They only wanted fifty cents for the box so I took it. I brought it back to my shop. My shop is in the country off of Church Street here in beautiful Perkins Michigan. I bought it at an estate sale as well. 300 hundred acres of land with an old farmhouse that the people here say belonged to the local witch. I paid fifty thousand dollars for it because it was considered haunted. I live here with my cockatoo, Charlie. Not sure if it is a he or a she so I named the bird Charlie which is interchangeable. It came with a couple of cats. One is pure black and the other is a snowshoe siamese. They live in the barn. I gave them names but sometimes they just ignore me when I call.

But I digress, back to the box. I brought it home to my Witches Estate. I named it that and got one of the neighbors to make one of those old fence type names to go above the wrought iron gates I bought at another estate sale. Might as well go along with the urban legend we have here. Makes an excellent business name as well for antiquity sales. As I came down the winding road, I stopped at the mail box by my iron gates. Yes, it is a fish box. I thought it was interesting and bought it at yet another estate sale. I pulled out my package with my letters. The letters are mainly bills but the package was my business cards. I had to order more. When you are in the business of antiques, you need to have cards to give to anyone who may be thinking about selling something or buying something. I opened them before opening my gates to double check the spelling. Lois Sprague it says. Witches Estate. Church Street. Perkins, Michigan. Antiques Dealer. All seems kosher including my phone number of 906-786-7423. I set them on the passenger seat and get out of the car. I open my iron gates, get back into the car and drive the acre down driveway to the old witch’s farmhouse. A beautiful Victorian house with two pillars. The rounded pillars go all the way to the attic and there they have beautiful stain glass windows. I made the attic my office because the stain glass makes such beautiful color patterns on the floor during the day. Even when the moon shines it makes those same patterns. When I turned off the car, I got out and went to the trunk. I needed to get the bigger items out of there and into the barn. The barn was the shop. The two cats live in the barn, but no one who visits the shop seems to mind the cats being there. The barn makes an excellent store and I can sit up in the loft area watching everything from above. I made the loft my office for the store. I bring people up there for appraisals and consignments as well as to pay for their purchases. The loft actually wraps around the whole barn and when I come out to it, it is usually where I find the cats.

“Hey.” Said Veronica she is my assistant who takes care of Witches Estate while I am busy. “A man came in today and left an old roller desk. Said it was his great granddad’s and asked if you could appraise it for insurance.”

“Of course I can. Did he leave his information?”

“Yes, I got it all. His name is Leonard Baum. He lives in Rock. I got his address and phone number. He is single and in his forties.”

“Ronnie!” I screamed.

“What?! He is gorgeous!”

“UGH!” I grunted and ran out as Ronnie said, “You need someone since you divorced Michael!” I walked briskly to my car to grab the old tin container.

I took the old tin container up to my attic office. It was the only piece coming into the house with me today. I felt so compelled to take it into the house. I took off my coat and placed it on the old coat rack I bought from an estate sale of an old physician. I walked over to Charlie’s cage and grabbed him out.

“How you doing, Charlie?” I asked him.

“Charlie fine. How are you?” he repeated several times to which I had to answer, “I am fine, Charlie. How are you?”

I took him up to the attic and placed him on his perch. He stays there for a little while til he wants attention which is usually when I am working.

“How about chili tonight, Charlie?” I asked him.

“Charlie yum chili.” he said over and over again.

“Ok. Then I guess we are going downstairs to make some.”

I grabbed Charlie and took him downstairs to the kitchen and started to make my grandmom’s famous chili. It has noodles in it. It is really good on the crispy fall days like today where it has been raining on and off. I took some up to the attic when it was done with a bowl for Charlie including his crackers. I love to watch him eat it. He throws the crackers into the bowl and then sticks his beak in it.

I started in with an online search concerning the roll top desk. I went and retrieved some of my books on antiques to help get an accurate appraisal for Mr. Baum. I wanted to be prepared before I called him on it. I had Ronnie take photos of the desk as well so I could see every characteristic the desk had. I opened the my messenger on my computer as well as my social sites. The lights dimmed. I was used to this. The old house has its quirks. Then I heard the ding of my messenger go off. I had a message. I opened the chat box to read it. It was from someone calling himself or herself “Trapped in the Box”. Very unusual handle but, ok.

“Help.” It read. “An old witch trapped me in a box.”

“Right!” I replied with sinisism.

The message never got returned so I just forgot about it as I did my research.

“Come on Charlie.” I said, “Time for us to hit the hay.”

I picked Charlie up and carried him down to my bedroom. I liked the company since Michael left me. It is very hard learning to sleep alone again after being with someone for sixteen years. I had to admit when bedtime comes that is when I miss him the most. The rest of the day I am busy and can keep the feelings at bay, but alone in bed, that is the hardest.

I turned on the telly and found an old episode of “Murder She Wrote”. Jessica Fletcher can keep me company ’til I fall asleep with Charlie.

The alarm went off as usual. I need to call Mr. Baum today. I had the weirdest dream last night. Sometimes they were hard to shake. I went into the bathroom to take my morning shower. Every once in a while it seems like a shadow moves across the mirror and I feel like someone is watching me. I turned on the water and the old pipes began their singing. I have replaced many of them but there are way too many to fully replumb the house correctly and then there is the expence that would break me financially.

I go make the morning coffee when I am done. Charlie likes to have his cup of Joe as well with a slice of peanut butter toast. Most parrot people call me abusive because he eats like I do. I have never given him bird food. I got him at an estate sale as well. That was nineteen years ago when I first started my business. I worked for a while at a major auction house to build my reputation. He was in a litter of babies that an old lady had. She was a breeder her whole life and when she died, her children sold off all her birds. I never had Charlie DNA tested, but I figure the birds a boy. That is my thought anyway. He has some volcabulary. Enough that I can pretend to have a conversation with him.

“Is your toast good, Charlie?”

“Lovely toast. Lovely toast.” he repeats.

“Want more coffee?”

“Want more coffee.” he repeats.

“Looks like you have plenty.” I tell him.

“Want more coffee.” he says again. “Lovely toast”

I went and got my phone to call Mr. Baum..”

“Good morning.” I heard a very sweet voice on the other end.

“Good morning, Mr. Baum. This is Lois Sprague from Witches estate. You left your roll top desk with me to appraise”

“Why, yes I did.” Came the same sing songy voice.

“I would like to make an appointment with you to discuss my findings and appraisal. I have available time on Saturday at Noon. Does that work for you?”

“Weeelllll Noooooo” The sing songy voice started to sound more pouty. “I was hoping for sooner.”

“I am sorry. I am booked up until then with other appraisals and appointments.”

“Weeellll.” Again with the sing song gloomy voice. “How about dinner?” He snapped hurriedly into the receiver like someone ripping off a band aid. “It will be my treat. As you know, the Mountain Cabin has reopened with new owners. I hear the steak is delis.” He said with the nauseating sing song voice that sounds like a villain in a Disney cartoon.

I sighed contemplating quickly what to do. I resided to the fact he may not give up. Reluctantly, I said, “Ok. When where you thinking?”

“How about tonight?”

I almost threw my phone. Instead I got ahold of myself and said as sweetly as I could. “Alright. Would seven do?” With everything I have to do today that was the only time left.

“Sure it would!” said the sing song voice. “Do you want to meet or shall I pick you up?”

Hurriedly I replied, “We will meet there.” Since I know I already couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

After a day of estate sales, auctions, appraisals, meetings, and weird messages from trapped in a box asking me to help him because a witch trapped him, I went to Mountain Cabin to meet Mr. Baum. I walked into the door, stood by the host desk, and that is when I heard, “Heelllloooo.” There’s that nauseating sing song voice. I turned around and there was all five foot something of him with flaming red hair and blue eyes. How Ronnie thought this was gorgeous I will never know.

“How can I serve you?” he asked.

“I am Lois Sprague.” I said through my teeth.

“Oh.” His eyes lit up. “Lois. May I call you that?”

“I prefer not.”

“Oh.” he said taken aback. “well let me show you to your seat.”

“Alright.” I said very puzzled.

As I went into the dinning area following him, I happened to notice a very attractive man sitting at the bar alone.

“Here is your seat! Mr. Baum will be with you shortly.” said Mr. Sing Song.

I looked at him surprised. I must have blinked. “What did that mean?” I was thinking. I thought his voice was Mr. Baum. Then I looked toward the bar and saw walking up to me the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

“Thank you, Timothy.” he said.

“Your welcome, Mr. Baum.” said Mr. Sing Song Voice.

“Oh my god! This can’t be.” I was thinking.

“May I call you Lois?” he asked.

I looked at him and stammered, “Ah. Sure.” Then I realized he has a Texas accent. “Are you from Texas?” I asked him.

“Yes Ma’am, I am! But I came here as a child. My Mother is a Yooper.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it. What luck! No wonder why Ronnie wanted me to meet him.

“Yes Ma’am. You would know her family as the Andarsson’s. Not to be mistaken with the Anderson family.”

“Oh my.” I thought. They owned the land I bought. “Why, yes I do know them all very well.”

“Timothy is my second cousin.”

“Really?” gasp.

“He and I purchased the Mountain Cabin together. His Dad is Irish. Married my Mother’s cousin, Viola. Although, my Mom says they are sisters since the unfortunate accident meant Viola had to be put with Mom’s family. So really he is my third cousin.” Leonard winked at me and smiled.

I got home late and took Charlie to be with me. I told him about my wonderful night.

I didn’t go to my computer last night,but when I woke up I had a text message from Trapped in a Box that read, “Help! An old witch trapped me in a box.” I had more weird dreams. Ever since I moved to this house, I have had them. They never make any sense. They are like I lived another lifetime, but once I am awake, I can only remember pieces like a fire or a house. Something crazy and sometimes nagging about them.

I spent the day with online auctions. I know something special will pop up in one of them. I am sitting in my beautiful attic bidding and watching the auctions from various spots around the world. I didn’t even realize I had the box in my hands and was trying to pry it open with my fingers until I cut one. The box is so fascinating to me. I feel so drawn to it. Trapped in the Box has messaged me three times already. I keep ignoring him. I am so tired of the crazy message. “Help. An old witch has trapped me in a box.” Come on. Get a life.

I was at the Mountain Cabin with Leonard. We were sitting at the bar having coffee, laughing, and talking. I so enjoy being with him when a little old lady came up to me.

“Hello. Are you Lois Sprague?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I was told by Bertha to talk to you. I am Marie Johnson from Lathop. I was in my barn when I found a loose floor board. I found this under it. Do you think you could appraise it for me?”

“I sure can try.” She handed me the knife. “Wow. This is a very beautiful knife. It looks hand carved. The handle looks like ivory.”

“My home used to belong to a local witch. I think it may be an atheme. I sure hope you can help me.”

“I think I can. Here. Can you write down your address and phone number for me? I will call you as soon as I know something.”

“Ok. I can do that. I sure hope it worth something.”

Today my excitement looms for the mail. I have a purchase coming in from Japan. I am sure I can find a buyer for this piece. I went on my first online auction to Japan for this estate sale. I sure can’t wait to finally see the piece up close.

As I was doing some research on another clients rifle, I got another message from Trapped in a Box. “Man.” I thought. “This is getting so old.” It had the same stupid message on it. “Help. An old witch trapped me in a box.” “This guy has got to be crazy.” I thought to myself. I am starting to feel harassed by Trapped in a Box.

Finally at Noon, my piece came via U.P.S. Ronnie and I unwrapped it like it was Christmas. Both of us were excited to see it. There it stood. Three feet tall and made of one hundred percent pure Jade. I have a beautiful Jade Dragon! There’s a piece you don’t find often.

I had a meeting with a man in California today about the Jade Dragon. He really wants it for his chain of Chinese restaurants. As I was talking to him. Trapped in a Box messaged me again. I ignored it until I was finished talking to Mr. Ching. I knew what it said anyway. That box keeps nagging at me. I found a key today in a desk draw and decided to see if it fit. It is too small for the box to open it. Damn. I was so hoping. I just want a peek inside to see what it is made of.

Leonard called me this morning wanting to go to the movies later tonight. I so can’t wait. I really love being with him. He is like a god send from up above. I asked him if he would like to come over for eggs and coffee this morning. I like that he enjoys playing with Charlie. They so seem to enjoy each other.

I called a local moving company for some guys. I knew the owner. I sold several items for him and I needed help to move the Jade Dragon to the attic. The guys were so sweet as they brought it up. I took Charlie up to see it and he loves it. He sat on it. It appears to be his favorite perch now.

I love my attic. I love the stone fireplace the most. I have wood in it but the propane keeps the house warm enough that I don’t need a fire. I have been thinking about taking Leonard up here. The fireplace runs all the way down. I have one in my bedroom and the living room. All three are connected to the one chimney. It goes right down the wall. Such unique charm in this house. I keep wanting to open the box. I wish I could see inside of it to know what the inside is made of. Today, I picked it up and shook it violently to see if anything rattled inside. Nothing. Drat!

I have another dinner date with Leonard tonight. We have been seeing each other for two months now and I love every minute of it. Charlie likes him as well. Ronnie is bugging me to have him spend the night, but I like our slow dates.

I have an appraisal for an antique knife. The little old lady found it in her barn under a floor board. She thinks it is an atheme used by the town witches. The box keeps nagging at me. I have tried to open it, but it appears to be locked. Tonight as I was looking at the atheme, I decided to try it in the box. To my surprise it opened it. A puff of blue light and a smell came out of the box. The fireplace came alive with flames and a shadow moved out of the fire. The blue light turned into a man. Charlie started screaming.

“Thank you for releasing me. I thought you never would. That Leonard kept you so busy. I could’ve been out sooner if it wasn’t for him.”

He pointed a finger at me and then I saw her! He then saw her too.

“Claudia.” he said. “Why are you here?”

“I have kept myself here on purpose so I can always stop you!” she said. “I also sent my grandson to distract Lois so you couldn’t get out, but then you just had to get your niece to find that atheme we hid. How convenient!”

“She did an awesome job. I couldn’t believe it! She actually bought that old farm. I guess you all should have made a better pact with the future generations to never sell the property.”

There was a burst of light and I saw him struggle. She was really struggling with him.

“I will never go back in that box!” he screamed.

“Yes you will.”

“You don’t have enough witches to place me back in.”

“I don’t need to. I have the Jade Dragon to help me!”

“What?”

“That is right. The Dragon will help me.”

Just then the Dragon came to life! The man screamed and blue light went all over the room. It bounced around with the Dragon chasing it. I saw the box shut and the Dragon went back to a statue. Claudia turned to me.

“I am always here. I will keep you safe. Don’t open that box again. I want you to bury it by the creek in the back. Put the knife with it. Cement it if you have to, but we can not let him out.”

“What did he do that you put him in a box?” I asked her.

“He murdered several women after raping them.” she told me. “He is evil to the core.”

She went back into the fire.

I woke up screaming! Just then I heard the clicky clack of Charlie’s feet coming into the bedroom. I couldn’t believe it. He was splattered with blood from his beak all the way down his chest.

“Good morning Lois! How was your sleep?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Chickens In My House

I left the door open.

My biggest mistake!

The chickens decided to come into my place!

I was in the bathroom with my meal on the table.

I came out and noticed the chickens ate my steak!

They are on my cupboard spilling my milk!

Tipping over the coffee pot and eating the tomatoes!

They are sitting on my chair watching television while pecking at my remote!

They look at me with their beady eyes like I am next on their plate!

I think I need help!

Since they won’t let me sleep!

I just know they are after me!

I put up a sign, but they ignore it.

I can’t keep the chickens out of my house!

They stole my car and drove it into a tree!

They climbed out of it and ran across the street!

The neighbors called the cops, but they blamed me!

Since chickens aren’t allowed to have a driver’s license.

Yet, they still come into my house!

Someone tell the chickens to get out of my house!

There’s A Beak In My Coffee

I went outside to sit.

I had my coffee with me.

The damn rooster bit me.

He got mad as hell when I picked up my cup.

He wanted my coffee.

I took my cup and ran as fast as I could to the house.

The damn rooster followed and bit me on the foot!

I got in the house.

Blood dripping down.

Two bandaids later, I see that rooster looking in my window!

Now he is stalking me for my coffee!

And now I tell everyone that I have a beak in my coffee!

Asperger Child Murder

*I am trying to get the details correct for the high emotions of telling someone their loved one has passed. This is the section that is most important. Please leave feedback on how I can make this more vivid and more emotional.*

 

As she walks down Washington Avenue, she stops as the car approaches. Her fellow classmates are in a car and start throwing apples at her head. She  ends up with one right in her eye as she tries to defend herself against the assault. Her classmates just don’t see her as a human. They see her disability as an issue to be eradicated. They see her Asperger’s Syndrome as something to fear. They really don’t understand why she can’t get the whole social thing and since she moved here from somewhere else, she makes a great target.

Both her parents had grown up here and when her dad died in Afghanistan, her mom moved them back where their relatives lived. Only thing is, the kids here hate her for some unknown reason. She lost her best friend in the war. She was so close to her dad and it hurts her yet that he isn’t here to protect her, to tell her it will  be alright, to make the pain go away.

As she walks toward the high school, she knows she will be late for class, but she really doesn’t care. No one in that school understands her or even likes her.  If it weren’t for her violin, she wouldn’t attend this school at all. She only went for third hour anyway. Third hour is her orchestra class and she loves it. It is the only place she feels alive.

She walks into school half way through second hour. She decides to skip it and heads to the orchestra room in F section. First, she goes to her locker and hangs there for a bit before walking slowly to the class.

After third hour, she generally heads home. Hoping this way she won’t get tortured by anyone. Maxwell Jackson walks up to her after third hour and asks her if she would like to go with him somewhere. She likes Max, he is always really nice to her. She says she will and leaves the school.

It’s 2 a.m., when Clay gets a call from one of his deputies.

“Clay, it’s Mark. We have a missing 14-year-old girl. Her Mother called Central Dispatch saying the last she heard from her was after her third hour class. She said she was leaving with Maxwell Jackson. He invited her to go somewhere. Her Mother hasn’t heard from her since.”

“I’m getting ready now and I will be heading to the station. Get the search and rescue team together.”

“Got it done already, Sir.” says Mark.

Clay grabs his trusty dog Ryder.

“Come on Ryder! We have a girl to find.”

When Clay gets to the Delta County Sheriff Department, he radios his men. Then he talks to his secretary, Rita Hanson.

“Rita.” he says, “call the mother of the missing girl and tell her I need something she has recently worn.”

“Yes sir.”

Rita picks up the phone and calls the mother. Clay heads down the hall to his office stopping at the coffee pot. Clay needs the warmth mixed with the caffeine just to keep focused on what may lay ahead.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson. I’m Rita Hanson with the Delta County Sheriff’s Office. I am calling you regarding Lillian. Sheriff Forsman would like you to bring something Lillian has worn in the past day or so to the department. He needs it to give to Ryder.”

Rita hangs up with Mrs. Johnson and goes into Clay’s office. “She is on her way. The poor woman is hysterical.”

“Can you blame her?” Clay brings the coffee cup up to his lips and takes a huge gulp.

“No. I think they would need to take me to St. Francis if something ever happened to my Jimmie.”

Clay nearly gags on his coffee. Rita looks at him puzzled. Not having children of his own, Clay still gets it. Total understanding of every parent when you can’t protect them 24 hours a day. He understands parents as being better police officers than the police themselves.

The Deputies radio into Clay that they talked to Maxwell. He had last seen her at school and had no idea where she went. They talked to the school and learned that Maxwell was there for the whole school day. They had asked if anyone was missing after third hour. After looking through the records, they found out that five of the football players had left after third hour and hadn’t returned. The school names the boys for Clay, they are Trevor Page, Jason Bezaw, Dale St.Jaques, Peter Anderson, and James Petersen.

Clay orders his men to find the five football players and ask them about Lillian. None were talking but Deputy Mark Carlson eventually gets Trevor “Squiggy” Page to open up. Trevor doesn’t know the exact location, but the story he tells shocks the seasoned Deputies.

Trevor tells Deputy Carlson an eerie tale. “We saw her go outside with Maxwell. He showed her something in his car. He hugged her goodbye. Why anyone would touch that stinky bitch I have no idea. James decided we were gonna teach that uppity bitch some manners. We waited for Max to get inside and she was near the end of the driveway. She was heading home. She was always skipping school. We knew she left everyday after 3rd hour. She didn’t want to get in the car with us. Jason grabbed her and pulled her into the car. She fucking screamed.We held her down in the backseat on our way to Rapid. Jason was the first to rip off her pants. He decided to have a go with her. Dale had her mouth covered but she was fighting and screaming. Jason got really pissed when she scratched his face. He punched her right in the face. Stupid bitch got whats comin to her. Peter and James were in the front seat. I decided to try my fingers in her ass. Then, what the hell, I went and slammed my dick right up her ass. Man, the tears were flowing from that bitch then.  I don’t know how long it took. I was having too much fun in the backseat. We punched her, shoved our dicks where ever we wanted. It was the best time ever. Finally, James stops and says, “we’re here. Pete and I want a turn.” So we drag her out. The bitch starts screamin, “mommy, daddy, help me.” like anyone can hear her out there. Well, we continued doing the same thing to her. Shoving it where ever we pleased and beating the crap out that sub human. Then at some point James couldn’t take her screamin anymore.” Trevor started laughing for no apparent reason then continued.  “The last straw was when she said she was gonna tell her mommy. Like her bitch ass mommy could do anything for her. James picked up a rock and smashed it in her head. I have no idea how many times. But blood was everywhere. Then she stopped breathin so we threw her wasted ass into the river.” Mark’s anger was rising. He wanted to smack the evil right out of him. He couldn’t believe how this kid was telling this story. “How could anyone be this cruel? What is up with people these days?” Mark thought.

Mark radios Clay and tells him to head somewhere near the Rapid River.  Clay knows this area well since this is his and Ryder’s favorite fishing area!

“Come on Ryder. We are going to our fishing spot to find Lillian.”

The area around the Rapid River looks like a major forest with the trees. The river has paths used by everyone going to their favorite spot to fish. You would never guess that a few feet from here is a clearing and a few yards from here are people’s homes. The area is breathtaking. The smell of the water is in the air. The leaves at this time of year are changing to brilliant colors and if this was any other day, it would be a great time to take a scenic photo.

It takes Ryder less than an hour and he has Lillian. She is floating face down in the river . Clay sighs and starts to cry. He hates this job sometimes, but he knows this is why he does this job. He is the voice of the victim. He doesn’t judge anyone, but he can’t help wondering why people are so cruel to one another.

His search and rescue team pull her out of the cold water. The EMTs all looking way to sullen, take her down to the hospital for the coroner.  An autopsy is needed for the criminal investigation of murder. He knows what he has to do next and this was going to be the worst thing he ever has to do.

He drives with Ryder silently to Mrs. Johnson’s house. He sits in his car for a moment looking at their home. He knows this is going to kill her. First, her husband and now the only person she has left. It is the most horrific experience for a parent to out-live a child. Clay tries to get his emotions under control. Clay wipes a tear away from his face and looks at Ryder. Ryder has the same look of depression on his face. They both look at the house and dread what has to come next. This is the worst part. The trauma from the family leaves scars on the inside of your soul. Clay has to disassociate from his emotions and appear stable.

He slowly gets out of the car and walks to her door. Clay fidgets with his hat as if it isn’t on straight. As he walks up to the house he notices a lilac bush to his left. The concrete steps leading to the door number 4 have a strange echoing sound in the ears. The screen door looks aged and looks in need of repair. He enters onto the sun porch to approach the old wooden door, takes a giant breath to relieve his anxiety, and knocks. When Mrs. Johnson’s mother answers, he asks her for her daughter. He notices that she has been crying and the look of worry on her face. He sees inside the house. In the dining room he sees the white lace curtains blow inward as the breeze hits them. As her daughter approaches he knows that she already knows. Her blonde hair is a mess and she looks like she hasn’t slept in years. Her blue-green eyes are red from tears. Her clothes are wrinkled as if she were a homeless woman. He says it anyway and Mrs. Johnson collapses in her father’s arms. To Clay it appears like a movie in slow motion. Her father looks like he is fifty aging to eighty at this moment. They all look so stressed and worried. You can see they have been crying and praying hard. This family is never going to be the same. He watches as her mother runs up to her and grabs her. All three are holding each other, sobbing. He turns, walks the few steps to the screen door, pauses, sighs, and then walks down the four steps back to his car. He opens his car door slowly as emotions are running high. He puts his long legs in as he sits on his seat. So much going through his mind. He looks over at Ryder. Ryder always looks sad. He has those basset hound eyes. Sometimes Clay thinks he is always sad because of the job they both do.

Clay goes back to his office to start the report and paperwork needed for the courts. He is on one mission now.

Clay sits down at his desk looking at his computer. He talks to himself as he types the report.

“I guess I will title this one Unknown Homicide. I, Sheriff Clay Forsman, was called at home on November 23, 2014 at 2 a.m., by Deputy Mark Carlson. I was informed of a missing persons case involving a fourteen-year-old girl. The victim’s name is Lillian Johnson. She attended the Escanaba High School. She was last seen around 12:20 p.m. by Maxwell Jackson. Deputy Mark Carlson talked with Mr. Jackson about the last time he had seen Lillian Johnson. The patrol officer supplement is provided with Deputy Carlson’s interview of Maxwell Jackson.”

Clay sits back looking at it. He shakes his head. He knows it isn’t really correct yet and it will take him a while to collect his thoughts and write it all out. These damn reports take forever sometimes. You have to make sure each page and every word is correct for the court system. There is a knock on his door as Mark enters.

“I filled out those subpoenas. All I need is your signature. I can then walk them across the lot to the court house.” Clay signs them and Mark leaves for the court house. Time for those five to face the music. He is going after the boys who killed Lillian Johnson.