The aim of the words is to encourage us to write, a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the words are supplied by ME and can be found right here.
This week's words are:
4. olive oil
Here is my story: (I didn't use all the words, they'll show up in another chapter eventually)
Irene picked up the Mythology book asking “Are you interested in all mythology or just certain stories?” “I like all the stories,” said Bernice. “I started reading from the first one, they’re alphabetical and I’m up to Merlin now. He’s a favourite.” She took the book and wiped the cover with a damp cloth then dried it carefully. Irene realised her mistake immediately and apologised for not wearing gloves. “Not to worry,” said Bernice. I’ve got these sanitising wipe things now. And I can see you’re a clean person anyway. Not sick or anything, like some you see, sneezing and coughing everywhere. I’m relieved you’ve come so quickly this time. Come in and sit down, I’ll bring the tea and cake. I remember you like your tea black Inspector Grace, Detective aren’t you, that’s right.” Bernice wandered towards the kitchen muttering to herself, “gotta tell about the man, don’t forget.”
Stanley and Irene let themselves into the small living room and made sure notepads and pens were ready. It was obvious Bernice had a tale to tell and they wondered what was at the beginning of it all. All they had to go on were the roughly penned letters that came every year. “Has to be about something that happened here, in this area,” said Irene. “What do you know about things from that long ago?” “Not much,” said Stanley. “There’s some cold cases back in the old file room, we may be able to link to something there, depending on what Bernice has to say.” “Hmm,” said Irene. “All we really have is the letters that have come every year, nothing in any of them to suggest a link to anything else, so really there’s nothing to go on, unless Bernice has seen someone specific that we can connect something to.”
Bernice came in just then wheeling an old tea-lady style trolley and laid out cups and saucers. Waving expansively across the table, she suggested Stanley and Irene come over and help themselves. “This ain’t no hotel and I’m no waitress,” she declared. “You make your tea the way you want it and slice the cake thick as you like.” When they were all settled with tea and cake, Stanley asked about the urgency and who was it Bernice had seen. “The man! I seen the man! The one what was here a long time ago and did something bad.” “How long ago did this bad thing happen?” said Stanley. “How can you be sure it is the same man? He has probably changed a lot since then.” Bernice rose from her chair and stalked about rather theatrically, waving her arms, mumbling, then started, “years and years ago, I was in old Doc Wurtzel’s hospital, looked after me good he did, old Doc. Anyway I was allowed out to go for walks and stuff, so one night I’m walking down around the town, looking in windows to see clocks ‘cause I have to be back in time for late supper, and I saw this same man, was running out of the Cove Hotel with a blanket over his shoulder, like a fireman carries someone out from a fire.” She stopped and thought for a while. “Didn’t see all his face, it was dark, but saw enough to see, was that man was sweet-talking young Stephanie. She really got took in that poor girl. I seen him with her a few times, asking all about who was staying at the Hotel, wasn’t interested in Stephanie, I could tell, just using her.” Bernice fell silent and Stanley wrote down what she had said.
Irene gently brought Bernice back into the story, “what year was this, do you remember? And what was it about him that scared you, do you remember that?” ‘Oh,” said Bernice, “I was just rememberin’ that was about the time when Stephanie got hit on the head and woke up to find a dead woman and got all crazy like, and come to live with us in Doc’s hospital. I miss old Doc.” Muttering to herself again, Bernice appeared to be disconnected from the current conversation, then suddenly refocusing, carried on where she had left off. “That man,” she said. “He’s got a big crooked nose and a purple spot on his cheek, that’s how I know it’s the same one. I saw him when I went to the stream for water, he had a illegal campfire going, singing a bit he was.” “Is he still here now?” said Stanley. “I didn’t see him after I got the water, I was scared to go back, he’s got crazy eyes, I saw when he was carrying that blanket that time, leavin’ the Hotel he was, all in a hurry. I think he was the one killed that person and stole something and carried it out in that blanket.”