Keith's Ramblings

For The Sunday Muse which is hosted by Carrie. 

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As kids, we always wondered about the elderly gentleman that lived in the old house. It wasn’t covered in creepers, or circled by bats. It was just a run-down house with an overgrown garden on the road where I lived, but the curtains were always closed and it looked a little creepy. Sometimes they twitched and if it was dark outside you could just make out a faint light. When you are a youngster your imagination takes you to all kinds of dark places! 

I remember my mother telling me not to be silly. She said that the old gentleman hadn’t left the house since his wife ran off a couple of years ago and never came back. She said he probably just liked to sit in the dark and remember when she was there with him. We of course decided he’d bumped her off and hidden her in the cellar.

Boys being boys, we loved scaring the girls with tales we made up about what went on behind those closed curtains. One day they dared us to knock on the door then run and hide behind a bush over the road. They said he was bound to come to the door, then we could all have a good look at him. If the truth be known we were actually more scared of the mystery man than they were. I guess we made the stories so realistic that, began to believe them ourselves!

Anyway, in order to save face, we took up the challenge one day. My friend and I crept up the path from the road and banged the knocker as hard as we could then scampered back out to the street again and concealed ourselves as planned. We watched, almost afraid to breathe. One of the girls began to giggle. She wasn’t finding it funny of course. It was a nervous giggle my friend and I said.

But nothing happened. The door didn’t open, and the curtain didn’t twitch. We decided to do it again later when it was dark, but this time bang even louder. The girls took up their positions, and my friend and I rushed up the path again and banged so loudly that a couple of the neighbours began looking out of their windows. Fortunately, they didn’t spot us!

Again nothing happened. No open door, no twitch of the curtains. And then we noticed there was no light on. It was never much of a light but now there wasn’t the slightest glimmer. The following night we stood outside his house again just to see if his light was on again, but it wasn’t. I thought I’d better tell Mum. Not about the door-knocking thing of course, but about the house being in darkness. She called the police.

The cops came, and then an ambulance. They had to break down the door just like they did on TV. They were inside for ages and ages. Eventually, the ambulance people brought out a stretcher with a body on it. It was covered up, even its face. At first, we wondered if it was his body or his wife’s.  A little while later two guys with hammers and sheets of wood boarded up the smashed doorway.

We still thought that the house concealed a dark secret, but if so, we were never to know. It remained boarded up for years. I don’t think I ever saw it opened again. One day I’ll take a trip back. I’ll knock on the door and ask if the new people know anything about the mysterious old gentleman that lived there before them.

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1. Sailor.Source unknown

2. Photography by Dawn Gaye 

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Enterprise

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The landlord of The Enterprise Inn likes finding new ideas to entertain us. Yesterday I entered a prize draw. 

He once held a race around the village. Hairdresser Harry won, he knew a shortcut!

On karaoke night my friend and I planned to sing together but she backed out. I had to duet alone.

Tomorrow The Enterprise is having a comedy night. I’ve been told I’m the prisenter. Seems the joke’s on me!

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for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Silk.

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Dear Ladies, Gentlemen and others, my name is Hugh Dunnit, a private eye extraordinaire with a catalogue of uncovered crimes, discovered misdemeanours and imprisoned imposters.

I am gifted with the ability to see things that policemen do not which is why my services are oft’ sought by the local constabulary.

Yesterday I assisted Detective Dense at a murder scene where he failed to follow a pointer that led me along a path of discovery, for once again he’d ignored my advice; if you see a clue, don’t dismiss it no matter how meagre it might appear.

We were at the home of local bigwigs, Lord and Lady Wigbig, where his Lordship’s lifeless body lay slumped on a chaise lounge having seemingly been strangled, and as the detective and his deputies scratched their empty heads something occurred to me.

Her Ladyship was known for always wearing one particular item of clothing, and as I questioned her I noticed it was missing which lead me to solve the crime.

Lord Wigbig was killed by Lady Wigbig in the lounge with a silk scarf.

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for Fictions du Vendredi which is graciously hosted by Rochelle.

 

I thought I’d try to confuse some of you this week by writing a piece partly in Google-assisted Français, sorry, French.

 

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Fear not though folks, because I’ve recorded the audio completely in plain English!

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I heard a voice

Suivez-moi, s’il vous plaît it said

From the darkness

 a girl appeared

A look of fear

a tear-stained face

Ce qui vous veulent? I asked

Suivez-moi et vous verrez she replied

je ne veux pas I said 

Vous devez she begged

She ran down an alley

Hâte she called

je ne peux pas suivre ton rythme I yelled

Faster and faster she went

Rapidement she shouted

 Je suis perdant vous I said

She disappeared

Là où êtes vous? I called

Pas grave she cried 

Ce qui vous a voulu? I asked

Il est trop tard she sobbed

Guess I’ll never know

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Click Monsieur Froggie to see what others have come up with!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

for Wordless Wednesday and bloghops various!

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At the far Western end of our beach, there’s a wall decorated with painted stones. It was commissioned in 2020 during the Covid crisis and continued to grow for a couple of years. 

I attempted to whittle down the number of photos but I couldn’t decide which to leave out, so I’m afraid you’ve got the lot!

 

Don’t forget, if you wish to enlarge a picture to take a closer look, click it once. A second click will increase it even more.

 

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Add your link to join in the fun!

for Sadje’s What Do You See? photo prompt

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I came over all romantic last night. Don’t laugh, it happens sometimes! Unfortunately, I had no one to share the moment with, but that’s something I’m used to. Anyway, I decided to watch a romantic movie by candlelight, open a bottle of plonk and tickle my tastebuds with a packet of salt and vinegar crisps.

My goodness, it was good! A bit naughty though! I’d forgotten what fun courting was. 

Just as something passionate was about to take place (I’ll leave it to your imagination) I heard a rustling sound coming from the hallway. 

I let out a mild expletive as I fumbled with the remote control thingamajig in an attempt to halt the action. The movie went backwards and forwards, fast and slow until it finally halted at an image of Romeo’s somewhat hairy bottom!

Candle in hand I headed out to the hall only to find a piece of paper on my doormat. I initially assumed it to be a leaflet from Domino Pizza or something, I get a lot of those, but no, it was a handwritten note. 

I went back to the lounge, sat back in my chair and started reading it by the light of a flickering flame. 

It was a love letter – don’t scoff, it was! It was from a secret admirer, someone who claimed to know me but had never plucked up the courage to ask me on a date. I won’t go into the details of what it said, that would be a bit embarrassing, but suffice it to say, it was more romantic than the movie. Who was it from I wondered.

I leaned closer to the candle in an attempt to read the signature. Unfortunately, I got a bit too close and the note caught fire!

I extinguished the mini-inferno with my glass of wine, a bad move as it was red and my shirt was white.

Your name had gone up in smoke, so, whoever you are, please get in touch. Let me take you for a meal, there’s a nice Mcdonald’s around the corner. 

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Image credit; Leighann Blackwood @ Unsplash

For The Sunday Muse. I take no responsibility for this one, it’s all my Muses’ fault!

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I was strolling in the park when I saw a tree moving across the grass. There was a blackbird sitting on a branch whistling Fly Me to the Moon. It was a sweltering afternoon, phew it was hot. It was snowing too, not ordinary snow. It was more like whirling pink popcorn. 

There was big puddle to one side of me. The water was every colour of the rainbow and the sun was setting in it. Pretty. There was a little maidmer sitting on a stone in the middle. She was like a mermaid, only the other way around – a fish with gorgeous long silky legs and twelve pretty painted toenails. 

A grotesque woman came gliding toward me. I thought she was on roller skates. Only she wasn’t, she was being carried along by a huge bunch of multicoloured balloons. You should have seen her! She looked like a cross between a pantomime dame and a clown. Suddenly the blackbird swooped down and pierced the balloons with its beak. Pop pop pop.

I was about to ask her on a date and she went pop too. The barbaric bird then grabbed her gaudy clothes in its claws, stuck its tongue out at me and flew up up up into the sky.

Don’t believe me? Well, it was London, and it was the sixties. I’ll say no more!.’

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Original photos, Smoke and Glasses and Full Moon, source unknown.

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Breathtaking.‘

 

 

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The view from the top was breathtaking, as were the hundreds of steps, literally!‘

 

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Lounge

The following is an edited version of a tale I wrote six years ago.

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“Make sure you behave yourself,” said mum as she handed Tommy over to grandpa for a couple of hours. 

He left him alone for a few moments to take a telephone call in the hall but cut his conversation short when he heard something fall to the floor in the lounge. 

A look of dismay came over his face when he saw Tommy sitting beside his precious vase,  but he said nothing, just knelt down next to him.

“Why are you crying”’ asked Tommy, “it’s not broken”.

Grandpa traced the shape of a heart in the scattered ashes on the carpet.

“Kids will be kids my darling” he whispered.

Thanks to Denise for hosting

 

A tiddly tale for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

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Θα φτιάξω αμπαζούρ

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Gregor was the proud proprietor of an authentic Greek restaurant, so authentic, that his patrons were permitted to smash their plates on the floor at the end of the evening!

His son Sisyphus was tasked with clearing them up, an unpleasant pursuit as some smashers flung them floorward before finishing their kolokithokeftedes or galaktoboureko. 

Gregor had an idea. Why not turn some of the fragments into lampshades?

Unfortunately, they were rather heavy and occasionally fell from the ceiling giving Sisyphus even more debris to dispose of at the end of the evening.

Then he had another idea …. or perhaps not!

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*In case you are wondering what the title means, I’ll make lampshades!

Click Froggie to join in the fun!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast