Dracula’s Summer Home: Rushsylvania?

Part 4

A young man stuck his head out of a door, “thanks boss.” If the look on his face was an indicator, Mini might be on the menu.

“Are you the only game in town?”

They started walking away from the garage around the hotel, toward what might be Main Street. “No, my former brother-in-law owns one on the other end of town. He doesn’t have a rollback yet. He says he’s working on it.”

“Friendly competition?”

He held the door of the diner open for her. “No.” The answer to the question was forceful.

‘Dangerous territory’, she thought to herself.

“What’s the story behind 2 diners?”

He blushed slightly, “two sisters.”

“Why not work together?”

“I’m afraid that’s one for the history books.”

Her mind went wild, ‘or for my pen’, she thought.

The waitress came; while she studied the menu, he ordered the pancake platter for Jack. The young lady giggled. “Sure.” Bo only half paid attention to what she ordered; an omelette and grits.

“What is there to do in this town?” She asked as the waitress left.

“Not much. We have a very old cemetery, library.” He seemed to be deep in thought, “not much.”

The conversation died. It wasn’t an awkward silence. More like, ‘I’m comfortable in your presents. We don’t really need to talk’, kinda silence.

After breakfast, Bo decided to go to the cemetery. Maybe it would inspire her. It was old and huge. The entrance was an old wrought iron gate with moss growing on it. It was propped open. She carefully walked through. There was a light breeze blowing. She had never been on a cemetery in her life that there wasn’t a breeze blowing. Even the small one where her dad was buried.

Though the cemetery was old, it was well maintained. There was a stone from 1897. ‘Wow!’ She muttered. This stone was beautiful. It was chest high. 1897 was easy to read. She couldn’t tell if it was the birth or death date. Only a few letters of the name were still left. An A, maybe or it could have been an E. D or it could have been an L. P and S. Not really enough to give any indication of a name or gender.

This gravestone was breathtaking. It filled her mind with …. Nothing!

What came first, the grave or the pine tree? It was massive. Its branches hung low toward the grave. Shading it from the sun, covering it with brown needles and random cones.

There were no other graves close by. Which Bo thought odd for such a large old cemetery.

Far off, she could hear birds. Nothing close.

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Winter Season

Inside

The wind whipped down the street in cold December fashion. The first day of the month was turning out to be a bear. He snuggled a little tighter in his coat. He did love winter but could do without the wind unless he was all snuggled into his blanket on the couch. This wind was a knife that cut through his clothes and ate at his bones. It didn’t care if you had on one layer or five; it was going to get you. It was winds mission to bring you down. As he walked toward the moving van he asked himself why on Earth anyone would want to move in the dead of winter.

Oscar walked up the cracked walk way; up the shaky steps and into the cold house. The front door was open. “Hello!” he called.

A female scream came from inside the house. He ran in to find her holding her chest.

When she saw him, she smiled pointing her finger at him. “You scared me to death. I was so intent lookin’ for the mouse I thought I saw in the closet. But gee whiz brother. You scared the life out of me.”

“I’m so sorry. I meant no harm. I,” he pointed out the door. “I live across the street. I thought you might need some help unloading the truck.”

“Shoo,” she panted. “Give me a minute to find my heart.”

Good going Oscar, he told himself. Scare her half to death. Fool! He took in the small kitchen were they stood. It had yellow butterfly paper on the walls. The red and green checkered rug had holes worn in it down to the hard wood floor. There was an old sink up against the left wall and one old cabinet on the back wall. She was standing in what must have been a pantry. That currently she was calling a closet. It was apparent no one had been here for years. A fact he knew. Everything smelt of must and mold.

His new neighbor seemed to be wound a little tight. To get this worked up over a mouse was a bit much. But she didn’t curse him out for scaring her. That was a plus. Her light blonde hair was cut really short. She had plenty of curves. Curves for days, he told himself. Curves a man could get lost in. He didn’t like skinny women. The only thought process he could come up with was because he was so skinny and had spent the last ten years so sick. He smiled despite himself.

Chet’s only charge as far as the house was concerned was to mow the grass, put on a fresh coat of paint every now and then, and fix any storm damage that might occur.

Suddenly it dawned on him, seeing the inside of this house wouldn’t spoil the romance he felt toward it. To the contrary, it fueled his imagination. “I always wanted to know what the inside of this house looked like.” He smiled, not at her but at the house.

Winter Season

Dracula’s Summer Home: Rushsylvania?

Part 3

Dracula always fascinated Bo. The intrigue. The mystery. The underlying tension caused her mind to race. She fell asleep with Dracula dancing through her dreams.

A lengthy stretch was followed by rolling over to check the time, 9 am on Saturday. This was the best nights sleep she’d had in a long time. The sun was shining brightly. She saw from her doorway, the large canopy that protected her last night from the rain. Through an open garage door, she thought she saw her car jacked up in the air.

A brief walk was all it took for her to be at the garage. That was her car; that she saw from her hotel door, jacked up. Black boots and jean clad legs was all she could see in the sea of auto parts. She didn’t want to make a noise, who ever this was might get hurt. So, she waited. It was only a minute before he ducked down and locked eyes with her. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with Teenzy?”

The look on his face was priceless and it caused her to laugh. “Oh, that’s the cars name.” He answered her question as he moved from under her car. “You need a new alternator. I can’t get one til Tuesday. Supply chain issues. Blah, blah.”

“Got ja.” She smiled.

“I feel really bad about this. There is a room above the shop. You can stay there for free if you’d like.”

“Did you blow up the train tracks?”

“What?!” He was shocked and appalled. She could tell by the tone of his voice. “No.”

“It’s not your responsibility to provide me with a place to sleep. I appreciate the offer.” She smiled.

He laughed. “breakfast?”

“Yes. What’s good in this town?”

“We have 2 diners. One for breakfast and one for dinner. Sue closes at 2:30 and Pat opens at 3.”

“So I guess you’re screwed if you get here at 2:35.”

All he did was raise an eyebrow. With the flick of his wrist, he threw the oily towel on top of a tool box. “Going to breakfast Jack. I’ll have Mini bring you a pancake platter.”

Dracula’s Summer Home: Rushsylvania?

Winter Season

New neighbors?

Otis looked the coffee table over, “ain’t ‘nough money in the ho wide world make me be a school teach.”

Oscar had had enough of this visit. “There ain’t enough money in the universe to get you to work let alone choose a field to work in.”

“No need to be ugly. I stopped to see ‘bout you.”

Oscar glared at Oat.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that.” His brother scoffed as he pushed the recliner open. “Called like twenty times. I ain’t leavin’ no message. Goberment done got my number. I’m keepin’ what’s left.”

Alright, Oscar thought to himself as he leaned forward. His cell phone indeed did show six missed calls from Oat. “What makes you so special that Uncle Sam wants to keep tabs on you?”

Otis just laughed, “if’in I told you that, I’d has ta kill ya.”

“Of course,” as they were talking a moving van pulled up in front of the old Morrison house.

“Whoooo, looks like you be gettin’ new neighbors,” Oat drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “City trash.”

“Any idea who it might be?”

“Pussy heard town talk is’t Morrison grand youngan.”

Oscar got up from his seat disappearing into the house. When he came out, he had on shoes and a coat.

“Tell me you not gonna help city trash.”

“Yes,” Oscar smoothed down his collar.

“Shoot,” Oat jumped out of the recliner without closing it. “I worked all darn day. I’m goin’ home.”

Oscar roared with laughter despite his headache. “What have you done all day?”

Oat puffed out his chest at the insult. “Ben a daddy.” He slammed the door behind himself.

Oscar would have rather been hit than reminded of that. So what, he was fifty and unmarried. He was relying on God to help him find a wife. He wasn’t doing a very good job on his own. And he really didn’t feel like helping this person but it did get rid of his brother. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the cold. Snow was one thing, wind was something totally different.

Especially since he didn’t feel like himself.

It was probably wrong of him not to want to spend any time around his brother or his family. The truth of the matter was he didn’t like them very much. He loved his brother because they were brothers but he didn’t like the person he had grown up to be. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were brothers, Oscar wouldn’t even know Oat.

There was this small piece of him that was praying that when Oat became a father that he would be able to have a relationship with any nieces or nephews. Oscar was there for all their births. He sat in the waiting room with his mother as each new Patterson came into this world. But when it all became about the money; can you bring diapers when you come out? Will you bring formula? We forgot milk? Pussy’s sick, will you stop by Dillon’s and pick up her medicine; neglecting to mention that you are going to have to pay for it. He stopped going all together. Christmas his presents was demanded. He would give them that. He figured at this point he would get to know his nieces and nephews when they went through his class.

Oat was continually telling Oscar that he had gotten above his raisin’. A phrase Oscar couldn’t understand. He guessed it was impossible to make a better life for yourself; to not be what you have always known. In order not to stress over it, he told himself that Otis was jealous. It always helped him feel better for a little while. But never for long.

Winter Season

“God’s got this.”

I tell people this all the time. As well as myself. God’s got this. But being human; all too often, I let my mind run wild with the what if’s. Conveniently forgetting, God’s got this.

Everyone on every thing we buy is feeling the burden of inflation. Products and services seem higher today than they were yesterday.

I heat my house with propane. Even though I was able to lock in summer propane prices; I was stressing over just how much it was going to cost to fill my tank up. I’ve been saving since July. The dread of having to write that massive check building with each passing day.

So Monday, they filled up my tank. Slowly, I opened the invoice left on my door. “Huh!” It wasn’t nearly as bad as it has been in past years. I filled out my check with glee.

I’m still on the hunt for an alternative heating source. God’s got that too.

My last weight loss journey

What was the hardest personal goal you’ve set for yourself?

I’ve been working on this most of my adult life.

My last weight loss journey: dreams, marshmallow pie

One post, awhile back, was about me dreaming about fries. All I wanted was an order of fries. Could being on a diet cause these dreams about food?

Hot on the heals of that dream I dreamed about marshmallow pies. Though, I haven’t eaten one in years.

In this dream, a friend of mine we’re going to a store. None descript store in anywhere dream town. He’s talking about how wonderful these marshmallow pies are with peppermint. I’m intrigued. My friend (in real life) knows a lot about what snacks and combinations of snacks work to knock your socks off. So when he says these marshmallow pies and peppermint are a great combination, I’m up for trying.

In my dream, we split up. And he never returns. Who knows why. But at this point, I’m having one of those pies and some peppermint.

I hunt this store over for those marshmallow pies. Past purses and shoes. Through toys and tools. Around clothes and housewares. But for whatever reason, I can’t seem to make it to food. Let alone the snack aisle.

Where could these stupid pies be? Did they stop making them? The longer I look, the more frantic I become. I WANT those pies. The peppermint has long since been forgotten. Just PIES!

Nowhere. They are nowhere.

Out of frustration, I ask a sales clerk where are those stupid little pies? She takes me to a shelf covered with returns? Or junk? Or both? Digs deep in one of the shelves pulling out a crushed box of marshmallow pies. The holy grail. The light at the end of the tunnel. CHRISTMAS! I don’t wait for my friend. I don’t even wait to pay for the box of crumbs. One pie. One whole pie is all I really want. I tare into the box. And like the prize from a box of Cracker Jacks, there it was. One whole pie. Upon finding my prize, I sit on the cold polished concrete floor and devour my prize.

How much?
My last weight loss journey; feel the burn?

Dracula’s Summer Home: Rushsylvania?

Part 2

A jerking motion startled her awake. Yellow lights were flashing ahead of her like a kaleidoscope through her rain soaked windshield. A faint whining noise filled her ears.

Clank.

Whine.

Jerk.

Whine.

Clank.

This had to be a tow truck. She didn’t think people were allowed to ride in their vehicles while being towed. As hard as it was raining, she would take her chances. The ride was jiggly but dry.

The truck pulled to a stop under a large canopy. Someone completely covered pecked on her window. “It’s safe to get out now!” He shouted. When she opened the door, his voice was much softer. “Watch your step.” He had placed a step ladder beside the truck so it would be easier for her to climb down. “Do you have a bag or something? I’ll take you to the hotel and tomorrow I’ll work on your car.” Once she was safe on the ground, “have you eaten? Nothing is open at this hour but I can get you something from the vending machine.”

She pointed at the cooler. “I have plenty if you’re hungry.” He left to get a smaller vehicle, she read the side of his rollback and laughed. WHEN A HOOKER WON’T DO. She was still laughing when he pulled another truck around.

“What’s so funny?” He asked smiling.

“Your sense of humor.” She pointed at the rollback.

“The church ladies kicked up a fuss over it.”

The ride to the hotel wasn’t far. In the lobby; as she unpacked the cooler, he peeled off his rain gear. “Thank you for your kindness. What do I owe you?”

“Let’s wait and see what’s wrong with your car.”

“Sure.”

They ate a quick sandwich. She checked in. He left.

The room was quiet, on the ground floor. She stared at the closed door for a long time. Locked. The chained was pulled. But on a whim she propped a chair against the door. Took a shower. As she laid in the bed, a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula was laying on the night stand. Didn’t hotels have Bibles? Maybe the last guest left it? When she opened the cover, there written on the page was ‘Welcome to Rushylvania. Enjoy your stay.’ At least now she knew where she was. This sparked a thought, she checked her phone. One bar of service. Her weather app opened with what could have been the whining of the winch on the rollback, very slow. Finally, RUSHYLVANIA popped up. ‘Rain stopping in 1 hour.’ Tomorrow should be partly sunny at 65 degrees. She closed her phone and began to read Dracula.

Dracula’s Summer Home: Rushsylvania?