Note – I wrote and posted this almost exactly three (3) years ago, on March 1, 2018. It was written for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge that week. Since Sue is unable to post new photos, many of us are bringing back posts from the past to show our appreciation for the stories and ideas that she inspired :) See below for more detail on this story.
With no wizard’s light to guide us, we ran through the darkness. Occasionally a great leap of fire was reflected on the dark stone, casting an evil red glare across our party, but mostly we moved through a black so deep it seemed a physical force. On we went, stubbing toes and scuffing hands as we ran in pitch black.
“I see light,” the sharp eyed elf yelled. “Daylight!”
We ran faster, though us mere mortals could see naught. I bumped into a man, a common occurrence in this mad dash. But then something amazing happened. I could make out his form. In a few more steps, I too could see the cool blue daylight. We might make it!
There were guards at the entrance, but they were expecting an attack from the outside, not one from within. We swept them away without an injury on our part and pushed out into the open.
Martha Goode, and that is the First Martha, was the very first resident of the brand new, ultra-modern Goode Mansion. Her mother, Abigail, was rushed out of the heavily damaged farm house while in labor (“no child of mien will be born in this house of fire and death”) and gave birth to Martha less than an hour after being moved.
Martha grew up to be a very intelligent woman. At 18 she gained control of the Goode Mill, the old mill, and took the burnt-out hulk and created the most efficient, most profitable mill in the region, all the while paying the workers at her mill a third more than anyone else paid their labor.
She later lost the mill, a victim of a highly patriarchal society, but kept the mansion, the mansion defined by her; the mansion that defined her.
As she aged, she grew stranger and stranger. Who could blame her after all she had seen, experienced and dealt with, from an extremely violent and abusive “father” to the death threats as her legal battles got stretched across many years. Towards the end, few remembered the remarkable woman who had saved the town, only the eccentric who lived up the hill in the ancient house. Legends grew around her, even while she was still alive.
This is another drawing I recently found. I just colorized it today. Back before refrigeration and shipping from all over the world, people had to make their vegetables last all winter. By March there would be little choice left…
Hi all. As many of you may know, I have a house on Cape Cod. Unfortunately, I have not been visiting it very often. In fact, I was last down right around New Year’s Day. But I made it back last week!
I really didn’t do a lot. I did visit the landings near my house. I went running by the beach. I took a long walk in the woods. And I hung out. Not a lot, but it was great to be back after almost two months away!
Hello and Welcome! Come on over and I’ll get you a large mug of super strong dark roast, a cuppa tea or a hot cocoa. He can sit here at the table until it starts to rain, in which case we’ll pull it onto the covered patio area by the barn. It is warmish and feels nice, though it is supposed to rain most of the day. Where are we? Some may recognize the photo at the top as being from Cape Cod.
I remember her clearly, the oversized suitcase, the faded rose on her jacket.
Later, at the diner, I asked a local about her.
For at least 30 years she had gone down to the bus station daily and waited for her lover to come take her away.
Funny thing was that the dark-haired stranger had jilted her long before, back in the 1950s. She had waited patiently for him until she was 41 and began the crazy ritual.
I saw her the next day, the spring beauty just beneath the snowy old surface.
I wonder if she is still waiting?
Some of you (if you are old enough) may recognize this as coming from the song Delta Dawn (or try this if you like Tanya better than Helen), only I set it 30 years later, say 2003, when poor Dawn is in her 70s, not her 40s (the song says 41).
What does the image at the top have to do with the subject of the poem? A few months back I had a really strange dream. While trying to describe it to Sue Vincent, I decided to draw a quick picture. I later added it to the post (which you can see if you go to the post).
Hello! I hope you all had a great weekend. I know I did. It was sunny and relatively warm. OK, it got above freezing, if only by a degree or two, but the bright sun made it feel warm! The week wasn’t as cold or nasty as it was in some parts of the country, but the weekend weather sure was welcome!
Mostly because of the weather, but for a few other reasons, I have not been running in almost a month. Even in the cold weather I typically bundle up and run at least three times a week, so a month off, well, I could feel it. And then last week I was feeling a little down. I started to do my normal exercise routine on Monday, but my left arm hurt, so I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it Tuesday either. Or Wednesday, Thursday or Friday!