Follow that tale 3

Follow that Tale finale

(To read the first two segments: Click here for segement 1
Click here for segement 2)

Gordy had never given her even half the devotion he showed that damn dog.
Twenty years.

She stalked from the stove into the living room. “Twenty years, Gordy. We’ve been married twenty years.”

“Yeah,” he answered as he picked up the television remote and tuned her out.

“A rose Gordy?”

He glanced up at her. “You love roses.”

“Left overs Gordy?”

“You want Hamburger Helper instead?”

“You’re a bastard Gordy. Why don’t you go to hell.”

“Because I don’t go to your palace,” he sniped back.

She brushed the tears away and spun on her heel. She went back to the kitchen and finished heating the food then set it out on the table. She sat down and dug in. Scout scampered into join her and she tossed the buff colored spaniel scraps and bits from her plate.

“What are you doing?”

“Eating.”

“Obviously. You couldn’t call me for dinner?”

He sat down and piled his plate full. They ate in silence, the television droned in the background.

The longer Lynn sat beside him the more her insides festered. She shoved from the table. “I can’t live like this any more Gordy. I can’t do it. For Scout it’s love and kisses, praise and kindness. For me it’s after thoughts and left overs.”

“For God’s sake Lynn stop nagging me. I just got home.”

“Right. Sorry. Wouldn’t want to spoil your anniversary.” Lynn stalked from the room and scurried off to the sanctity of the bedroom. She slammed the door shut, locked it and secured the deadbolt. She dropped onto their mattress and cried until her body was too dry to produce any more tears. She’d made her bed and now she had to lie in it.

Lynn lay back on the bed watching as evening shadows stretched across the wall, the day fading into night. The doorknob juggled. Gordy was ready to get to bed. Good. Let him. He could sleep on the couch for a change.

“Come on Lynn, let me in. I have to go to work in the morning.”

She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. He went to work. He paid the bills. He knew where everything was. She didn’t do anything but stay home and taxi their teen-ager all over the county.

The door rattled harder. “Damn it Lynn! I have to go to bed. Open the damn door.”

She sighed, stood up and let him in.

He brushed by her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Why do you have to get so stupid all the time?”

She was stupid. Stupid to believe things would ever change. Stupid to believe she deserved better. “I’m sorry Gordy. Good night.” Her shoulders felt so heavy.

With leaden steps, she made her way into the living room where she dropped on the sofa, cuddled Scout and leaned back into the cushions for a night of mindless entertainment.

Lynn’s eyelids grew heavy and she couldn’t keep them open. She sank into a deep sleep. For the first time in months, she relaxed. Exhaustion kept her dreams blank. Void of anything. No colors, no sound, no variants of light or dark. Nothing but sleep.

Scout whined and licked her hand. Lynn scooted around on the sofa and looked around. Almost three in the morning. She didn’t sleep that long, ever. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She’d grab another cigarette, a drink and then get into her bed.

After finishing the glass of wine and visiting the bathroom, Lynn crept through the darkness and climbed into bed. Gordy wasn’t snoring, thank God. She rolled up onto her hip and curled under the blanket.

The sun peaking around the shades glinted off the mirror across from her bed and woke Lynn for the second time. Gordy still lay in a lump beside her. “Gordy?” she shook him.

Gordy didn’t move.

“Why are you home Gordy? Are you sick?” She shoved against him again.

Once more he didn’t stir.

“Gordy?”

She grabbed his shoulder. His body was stiff and rigid. She rolled him to face her and a scream ripped through the room.

Gordy’s eyes were wide open. His skin pale, blue tinted and cool to the touch. From his open mouth, in the middle of his blue lips emerged the rose he’d given her.

Great Granny Wynn

As you all know by now, my favorite holiday is Halloween. This month is for ghosts and ghouls, thrills and chills. Most people have had events that made them uneasy or slightly freaked out. Myself, I’ve had many. So I decided that I would share each one with you.

(Tomorrow is my day to post on The Writer’s Vineyard so one of my freaky moments is listed there. Check it out: http://thewritersvineyard.com)

My Granny Wynn was a cool woman. She lived in this great old house that was behind the building where her and grandpa had their grocer. I barely remember the store except for the fact that she always gave me a piece of Green Apple bubble gum. (My favorite gum of all time)

I was about 13 at the time the following events occurred.

I had this recurring dream that didn’t make any sense. In my dreams I was running, searching for something. Each night would bring me closer to whatever it was I was in search of. Each night something would stop me from reaching the goal.

One night it was a wall of thorns that blocked my path.
The following night I made it past the wall of thorns only to encounter another obstacle. Then, after this went on for a week I had reached a point where I was almost at the end of my nocturnal journey.

I had overcome the walls and stones, the river and muck only to be grabbed by winged monkeys al a Wizard of Oz.

The next night I past all points and even dodged the monkeys only to fall through a hole in the ground and land in a chair. Merlin was sitting there calmly sipping his tea. He welcomed me and passed me an ornately carved box.

He told me that when I opened the box I would see a picture of a person I dearly loved. When I saw their face they would die so I wasn’t to open it until I was ready. I woke up in a cold sweat. I was afraid to go to sleep after that because each night had led me closer to the final dream.

But I eventually did sleep. I went through all the trials and landed back in Merlin’s house. He pushed the box toward me and asked me if I was ready. I wasn’t sure. He nodded and said it was time.

I opened the box and there inside was a picture of my granny Wynn. I sat up in bed crying as hard as I’ve ever cried before. Just shortly after, the phone rang. It was my grandmother (her daughter) calling to tell us that Granny Wynn had died.

For several years, I thought it was my fault Granny died. If I hadn’t opened that box I wouldn’t have seen her picture and she wouldn’t have died. Of course, as I got older, I realized how silly that was of me to feel that way.