Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

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:

1. miasma
2. powerhouse
3. shiver
4. foolish
5. plumber
6. twenties

and/or:

1. foyer
2. palms
3. intricately
4. monastic
5. courtyard
6. sprawled

continuing on from last week, here is my story:

Part four

Later that night, Eleanor stirred restlessly in her sleep. In her dream, the ship was surrounded by something deeper, oilier, more smoky than a fog. A thick miasma hung around, making it difficult to see and breathe. The ship was on fire and she inched forward with the other passengers, towards the lifeboats. Somewhere ahead, a deep male voice was shouting, “women with children first, women without children and elderly women in the next boat. See to it, Lance and don’t let me down. I’ll see about getting the boats ready for the men.”

With a shiver, Eleanor rolled over and suddenly the dream shifted to a small lifeboat with a dozen women, watching through a breeze driven rift in the fog as the ship upended and sank beneath the waves. The name painted across the side of the bow was clearly visible. “The Merry Moose”. Dotted about the ocean to either side were more lifeboats, filled to the brim with passengers and seamen.

Eleanor woke with a start, finding herself drenched in sweat. She’d never had any type of psychic dream before. Waking Harry, she told him about the dream and he agreed they should go to the police first thing in the morning. Perhaps the Merry Moose ship had something to do with that token found under the body. They both wandered down the hallway to the kitchen where Eleanor started the heater going while Harry made cups of tea. “Fancy a biscuit love? I know it’s the middle of the night, but after a bad dream, something sweet seems in order.”

“Thanks Harry, a couple of those chocolate biscuits would be lovely. I feel a bit foolish now that I’m wide awake, I didn’t think a body in our yard would have any effect on me.. Now I’m even more keen to find out who he was and what happened.” “I can think of one thing,” said Harry. "He was buried there before the shrub was planted and I’d say it just grew from seed thrown down. If anybody dug there to plant something he would have been found then. As it is, the plant grew in and around, did you notice how intricately the roots and skeleton were intertwined?”

“I did, but didn’t take all that much notice,” said Eleanor. “Another thing to mention to the police, I suppose.” “Maybe we should also look into more about this house and its history,” said Harry. “All we know is it was built back in the nineteen twenties by a plumber. Over the site of an original powerhouse, one of those places with all the electrical reactors and conduits and stuff that sends electricity along the lines to homes and businesses.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” said Eleanor. “I hope that doesn’t mean the ground is unsafe for growing vegetables and fruit trees. It wouldn’t still be contaminated or anything like that? “I think maybe we should find out,” said Harry. “It wouldn’t do to go ahead and plant, then find out we have glow-in-the-dark carrots and potatoes.” Eleanor laughed at that, then said, “maybe we should turn this place into more of a resort style home. Have a courtyard out the back, with a small swimming pool between that and your Dad’s old gazebo. Then put a foyer inside the front door with palm trees like hotels have.”

Harry sighed as he sprawled along the couch. “It’s a nice dream, that one, but we really don’t have the money for it. I could sell the car and pedal that old pushbike to work for years and we still wouldn’t save enough to have a swimming pool.” “I know,” said Eleanor. “I’m just taking my mind far away from that dream, instead of writing it down so we don’t forget any details the police might want to know. Where is the police station anyway?”

“It’s in that small brick building next to that monastic looking place, used to be a nunnery I think Mum said, when I asked if it was once a monastery.”