“Am I alive and a reality, or am I but a dream?”
― Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Return of Tarzan

Love Eternal

Mabel and Herbert sat across from each other at a small table in the Palace Diner. They were drinking coffee and taking turns glancing at the door, as if they were expecting someone to come in. They held hands, their fingers twined together intimately. Her hands were covered with liver spots, while his were gnarled and twisted with arthritis.

Mabel put her coffee down and said, "I know we'll find them tonight."

"My dearest love, you can't know."

"How can you say that, sweetheart? I always know."

"True, I'm just worried; I feel that time is running short."

"We have put if off longer than usual, but we have been extraordinarily happy this time, don't you think?"

"Yes, but I'm always extraordinarily happy with you," Herbert said, smiling at her.

"And I with you, my love," she answered, returning his smile.

They looked into each other's eyes, no further words needed. The little bell over the door tinkled as Sherry and Craig walked through the door.

Mabel and Herbert turned their heads as one and watched the younger couple pick out a table not too far from their own. Mabel and Herbert smiled at each other and settled down to eavesdrop.
----

"I'm sorry, babe," Craig said, reaching across the table to hold her hand loosely in his larger one. At her puzzled look he continued, "This isn't much of a romantic getaway, is it?" He turned his hand so that it was palm up and her hand just rested lightly on it.

Sherry shook her head and smiled at him, "Hon, it's no big deal. We'll have plenty of romantic getaways." She gave his hand a little reassuring squeeze, and then lifted her hand from his to spread her napkin across her lap.

"I know, but we've done nothing but argue since we crossed the line into New Hampshire."

"True," she answered. "But we're both strong willed and opinionated. We're bound to butt heads."

"Opinionated! I'm not opinionated."

"Really?" she said, one eyebrow raised in question. "You're the one who won't consider heading back to Manchester. You're determined to stay up here, come hell or high water."

"That's just being practical."

Sherry opened her mouth to reply just as the waitress arrived.

The woman was older, in her forties or fifties, with graying hair and no makeup except for some bright red lipstick. She wore a faded pink uniform with a white collar and cuffs on the short sleeves. Pinned to her chest was a name tag that revealed her name to be Ruby.

"What can I get for you folks?" she asked, pulling a pad of paper and a pencil out of her pocket.

"Uh, I don't know. Babe, do you want a burger?"

"Yeah, I guess. And a coke," Sherry answered.

"Okay. Two burgers, medium." He looked up from the menu and said, "Do you have onion rings?" Ruby nodded yes and he continued, "One with fries and one with onion rings. Oh, and I'll have a ginger ale."

Ruby closed her pad, "Thank you, folks. I'll bring your drinks right over." She walked back to the window into the kitchen and called out, "Barry! Two pink cows, a fry and a ring."

Sherry and Craig sat silently as they both watched Ruby. Neither was really paying attention to her, though. They were wrapped in their own thoughts.

"I saw a state park on 109," he said, still not looking at Sherry.

"I saw it," she said shortly. She knew what was coming.

"We should just camp there."

"It's probably closed and who knows if it's set up for camping."

Just then Ruby brought their drinks. "Here you go," she said as she put the glasses on the table and then turned away.

"Wait a minute, Ruby," Craig said. When she stopped and turned back to him again, he continued. "The State Park we drove by, is it set up for camping?"

"Wentworth State Park?" she asked. Craig nodded and she said, "No, it's just for day trippers - you know, picnics and swimming, stuff like that. They close at sundown and drop the gate across the access road.

"Really?" he asked. "So there's no way to get into the park after dark?"

"Not officially," she said with a smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's a dirt road in that the locals know about. The kids use it as a kind of lover's lane," she answered.

"That's interesting," he said. "Is it off the main road?"

Sherry sat there and steamed as her husband and Ruby discussed ways to get into the park. She knew what was coming next. And sure enough, as Ruby walked away from their table, Craig turned his head to look at Sherry again. She recognized the look on his face, it was the same one he always had when he was going to try to charm her her into doing something she didn't want to do. She knew it usually worked, too.

"We can go up that lover's lane, park the truck, get some sleep and head home tomorrow."

Sherry shook her head, "You are something."

"What do you mean?" he asked with an innocent look on his face.

"You do realize that we'd be trespassing, don't you?"

"Yeah, but it's a state park. The locals go in there when it's closed."

"But not to sleep!" she exclaimed, softly, her face turning red with frustration as she glanced around to see if anyone had heard her.

The low voiced argument continued while they waited for their food. Their voices never raised above a conversational level, but their tones changed as the argument escalated.

Their food was delivered and they ate in complete silence.

----
Herbert turned to Mabel, "What do you think?"

"I think they're the ones."

"Are you sure? Did you listen to them argue? I don't know if they have that connection to each other."

"They do have it, I can feel it. And we'll take care of the arguing, won't we?"

"Well, yes, but do you think they love each other enough?

"Yes, they're in love enough. Not like we are, of course," she said, smiling at her love. "But they never are, are they?"

New blog intentions

I haven't posted anything in a long time - much longer than I had realized! That doesn't mean I haven't been writing, because I have. I just kind of forgot about my blog. But not anymore, I am going to start posting something every week. I do have a new short story that I will post an excerpt from this week - not the whole thing, just an excerpt. Spoiler alert - it's a spooky, kind of, but not quite, ghost love story.

Sin in Slacksville (an excerpt)

Just yesterday, I was on Maple Street. I was picking Dan up from his friend, Jake’s house. Dan had slept over there Saturday night and Jake lived right across the street from Nancy. I pulled into the driveway leading to her Georgian styled raised ranch. I shut the engine off and looked at the house for a minute, suddenly I felt nervous. With a shudder, I got out of the car. Walking to the garage door, I stood on tiptoe to look in the window: there was her Acura. Okay, she’s probably inside.

I walked up to the door and knocked. No answer. I noticed the doorbell and pushed the button; once, twice, then for a long time, 30 seconds at least. I did it again. No answer. I looked around, unsure what to do. Then I noticed a very obvious palm sized plastic rock. I picked it up and sure enough it was a key keeper. Did anyone really think that it looked like real rock? I opened the little catch at the bottom and a key came out. I tried it in the door and turned the knob. The door opened. I stood on the front porch and stuck only my head in.

“Nancy! Nancy, are you okay?” I called out. I listened to the answering silence. But wait, not silence, I heard sound. Water running? Maybe she slipped in the shower this morning and is hurt. With that idea in my mind, my nervousness disappeared. Even though I didn’t much care for Nancy, I wouldn’t want her to be hurt. I walked into her front hall and up the half staircase to the main level.

The house followed the typical raised ranch footprint; living room to my right, dining area behind that and the kitchen to the left of the dining room. Though the floor plan was typical, the decoration was not. Nancy had spared no expense in decorating; expensive oriental carpets were on the gleaming hardwood floors, and real artwork, not pictures from Sears, or even Macy’s hung on the walls. The light coming in the windows bounced off the glass doors of the china cabinet in the dining room, making the crystal inside glisten and sparkle. I wondered how she was able to afford the carpets, the art and the crystal on what she made at the town hall and her husband’s salary, but then I remembered her father. Dr. Granger had been the town’s only doctor for years and when he died everything he owned went to his only child, Nancy. So she wasn’t hurting for money. I remembered what I was there for and listened for the sound of water again. It was off to the left.

Right in front of me was a hall that led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Her master bedroom was at the end of the hall and stretched front to back over the garage. As I walked down the hall towards her bedroom, the sound of running water got louder and louder. I walked into her room and saw that the bathroom door was shut. I knew that she was in there.

“Nancy! Nancy, you okay?” I called out, knocking on the bathroom door. The door wasn’t shut tight and popped open.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. A metallic smell that I could almost taste, like when you accidentally bite down on a really old, cheap fork. And a sickening sweet, rotten smell. Without realizing it, I had closed my eyes. My eyes popped open. First I saw blood, lots and lots of blood. Then I saw Nancy. She lay on her stomach, her normally perfect blond hair half covered her face which was turned towards the door, one eye staring at me through reddish chunks of hair. Her right arm was stretched out towards me and one leg was bent as if she were trying to crawl. She was naked and her face was a mess. What used to be her nose was a flattened bloody lump. I noticed a metal makeup stool on its side behind her, it, too, was covered in blood. I think that might have been what smashed her face. But how did that happen? Did she fall on it? I didn’t see how she could fall hard enough to do that to her face. I didn’t have to check to see if she was alive.

I backed out of the room, closed the door and ran for the front porch. Once getting out doors, I inhaled; I hadn’t realized that I had been holding my breath, at least since I first smelled the blood. Taking a few deep breaths, I leaned against the door jamb and fished out my cell phone to call the police.