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 prompts are supplied by Elephant's Child and can be found here.

This week's words/prompts are:

1: you can't judge a book by its cover
2: the squeaky wheel gets the grease
3: For Sale. Wedding Dress. Never Worn

Here is my story:



For the third time in ten minutes, Kristen Hopkins sighed theatrically and tapped her foot impatiently. “You’re only looking at the covers, B, you can’t judge a book by its cover, you should at least read the blurb on the back or skim a page or two.”

“I know,” said Belinda. “But I don’t see any titles that are grabbing my attention. There’s nothing so far that makes me even want to lift a book off the shelf. How about we buy a newspaper instead and go to the Beach Café for coffee?”

“I like that idea,” said Kristen. “Let’s go!”


They left the bookshop and turned towards Jetty Road, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces. At four o’clock that sun was beginning its descent and would reach the horizon in about three hours. Far too long to be lingering over coffee, but the same sunset would be visible from Belinda’s tiny balcony, just three blocks back from the beach.


Kristen bought two newspapers and settled at a table while Belinda ordered two mochachinos and one éclair, cut in half for sharing. While waiting for their coffees, Belinda fished a pen out of her backpack and opened the paper to the crosswords page. Kristen started on the classifieds page, reading the For Sale advertisements. 
She was looking for some cheap bookshelves to place all her knick-knacks on, souvenirs from each place she had visited on her trips along the Australian coast over the past few years. After arriving home just over a year ago, she’d discovered a new neighbor in the flat next door. Belinda Wells, who seemed extremely shy and reclusive, but was now beginning to enjoy walking around the small town and learning the area from Kristen. 


Sipping coffee and circling ads with her red pen, Kristen suddenly said, “Oh no. How sad.” “What is it?” said Belinda. “This ad right here. For Sale. Wedding Dress. Never Worn.” “That is sad,” said Belinda. “Probably there’s a good reason.” “I’d like to find out that reason,” said Kristen, who fancied herself a bit of a detective. “There’s a phone number. I might ring up and ask to see the dress, maybe the seller can tell me about it, why it’s for sale.”


“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” said Belinda. “Really B, what harm could it do? Perhaps the seller has a sad tale to get off her chest, we could be helping her out.” “You’ll be doing that on your own then,” said Belinda. “I’m not leaving town. I’m not ready to be going anywhere just yet.”


Finishing their coffees and the éclair, they folded up their newspapers and walked along Esplanade Road for a couple of blocks, then turned up the side street to the block of flats they lived in. Belinda remained silent while Kristen chattered on, imagining all kinds of scenarios about the wedding dress. Reading her friend’s face expertly, Kristen knew that Belinda would be incommunicado for a few days, she certainly could be moody at times.

The following day, after work, Kristen rang the phone number in the paper and spoke to a woman with a lovely warm voice about viewing the dress next weekend.

 Arrangements were made and on the following Saturday, Kristen drove to a larger city just across the border in another state. Finding her way through the winding streets of the proper suburb took some time and she was glad to finally find 14 Acacia Lane. Using the brass lion’s head knocker, she stepped back a little and admired the front porch, which had large pots of flowers along its edge and larger pots of greenery each side of the front door. The door opened to reveal a small woman with a sad face. Kristen introduced herself and asked about the dress.

“Come in dear, I’m Mrs Greenwood, but you can call me Sheila. Did you have any trouble following my directions?” “Not at all,” said Kristen, “but it did take a little longer than I thought, I’ve been on the road since breakfast. Could I use your bathroom please?” “Of course,” said Sheila. “Just turn right at the end of this hall and it’s right there. I’ll put the kettle on and if you come back this way and just keep going, you’ll find yourself in my kitchen.”


The two women were soon enjoying sandwiches and cups of tea while Sheila told Kristen the tale of the dress. “My daughter Annie had it specially made for her wedding, then one day after working late she was walking towards the bus stop and witnessed a murder in the alley by the casino, down in the city dear, not here in the suburbs. She worked at the casino, in the dining rooms and usually finishes at four PM, but another waitress had called in sick, so Annie did her shift as well. Anyway, she went straight to the Police Station and the person who had done the killing put out a threat to find her and “do” her as well, because she could identify him I suppose. So after that, a nice young detective, Brendan McCarthy he said his name was, came and told me an undercover man working within the area, also could identify the killer and Annie and it was best that Annie go away until the trial. Witness protection they called it and she never even came home from the Police Station. They said it was best that way in case any of the killer’s friends followed her home. I haven’t seen her since and it’s been three years.” She wiped away tears with a lacy hanky and sipped her cold tea. 


“That’s why you are selling her dress?” “Yes,” said Sheila. “Her fiancé has also moved away, to his family in London, he didn’t know what else to do.” “Could I see the dress now?” asked Kristen. “Of course dear, but you are quite a bit taller than my Annie, so it wouldn’t fit you. You might have to buy somewhere else dear. Come this way to Annie’s room, I have it hanging out for you.” Sheila opened a door and Kristen gasped in surprise, “What a beautiful room! So much sunshine pouring in and that blue silk bedspread. Annie had wonderful taste.” 
Sheila took the cover off the dress and Kristen gasped again. “Oh my. That’s the most beautiful wedding dress I have ever seen.” She took notice of the ivory silk, the sweetheart neckline edged with tiny crystals and seed pearls, the same design around the hem too. “It really is gorgeous, Mrs Greenwood, but you’re right, it wouldn’t fit me at all and trying to have it altered would ruin it.” “Here’s the head dress and veil,” said Sheila. “Annie had this little tiara style made to fit her head with the same crystals and seed pearls. She was going to carry white roses.” Sheila began to cry again and Kristen took over the job of carefully folding the veil and re-covering the dress.


After recovering from the fresh set of tears, Sheila offered Kristen another cup of tea, but Kristen said, “No thank you Sheila, I really should make a start on getting back home. She waved goodbye and thought about the sad story of the dress and how she was going to describe it to Belinda. When she knocked on Belinda’s door on Sunday morning however, there was no answer. Another neighbor popped her head out and told her Belinda had moved out yesterday, “All a bit sudden, I’d say. Here for a year, quiet as a mouse, then ‘poof’ she’s gone.”


“Belinda” had recognized the phone number in the newspaper. It was her mother’s and her own wedding dress was the one for sale. By the time Kristen arrived home late on Saturday night, Belinda Wells, aka Annie Greenwood, was already on her way to a new refuge.