The naughty time of the year.

So if Santa always asks if you have been a good boy or girl this year.

And you get your gifts on the 25th, because you have been good.

And the year starts on the first of January.

Doesn’t that leave six full days to be naughty and it doesn’t count?

Like a werewolf waiting for the full moon, does the Bad Warty come out this time of the year?

Sleeping with Mina.

‘Sleeping with Mina’, a pretty good title I think, but not quite accurate. Maybe it should be, ‘Going to bed with Mina.’? Better, but not as fun.
I ponder the two titles each day, as I drive down the freeway at seventy miles per hour. Best to think of the titles, not of where I am going or where I have come from.

“You okay?” Wonder Girl says from the passenger seat.
“Yes, I’m okay.” I lie. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.” She might be lying also. That’s okay.

Which title should I use? I wonder as I slip into ‘Walter Mitty mode.’

Oh, I am sure that some drama queen will read it and think ‘OMG and he’s married!’. Willow would read it and say something like, ‘Oh stop pulling my leg Warty, I am tall enough already!’ Willow knows me well.
Jive-Daughter might say, ‘It’s okay, I wouldn’t mind being a few inches taller.’
Not sure how well JD she knows me.

So while we drive back and forth to the hospital, I think of other things. Anything but my dad lying in the hospital. I have to keep my eyes clear and watch the road. There is no time for tears.

For over the last few days, we have come to understand what lies ahead for my dad and how the end will come soon.

And I have trouble sleeping.

So as I snuggle up to my warm wife, I put my thoughts elsewhere. Since we know how hard it can be to calm your thoughts and sleep. So instead of trying not to think of something, I learned a long time ago to worry a story.
I’ll lie there and go over and over a scene. Tweak the dialog, imagine what the characters look like. Play the scene through and change how they act. Last summer I watched as an alien prepared to destroy a planet. Recently, I have toyed with how Carric(Inky) would save Cynthia(Sucky). But as I work on chapter four of the Inky-Sucky saga I realized that I really don’t want to drag Mina into it. For Mina Harker (You should know who she is if you have read the classics. Okay, google her name.) brings a whole mess of myth into the stories that I don’t want to use.
But I still have the scene that I will never use. And now I can use it to put myself to sleep.

So every night, for the last month or so, I go to bed with Mina, and Mina helps me sleep.
--

The Mina Scene
Not to be used in the Inky – Sucky saga
By G.W. Hogg

Carric paused across the street from bar, ‘Mina’s place’. He was full of trepidations about the upcoming meeting with Mina. The last time he encountered her, he had the upper hand. Today might be different.
He shrugged, it had to be done to save Sucky. He dashed across the dark street.

Pushing through the Bar’s heavy front door, he was surprised to find the bar was well lit. Booths lined the two walls on either side of him, upholstered in red leather. There were flowers on the tables and well-maintained plants hanging from the ceiling. Small tables filled the space between the walls and the long bar against the right wall. Women of all types were seated in groups in the booths and tables.
As he walked to the bar, the patrons watched him. He was not wanted here he knew, but that was not his worry.
He slid onto one of the bar stools and the young woman behind the bar put down the glass she was drying and walked over to him.
“Hi. Do you know where you are?”
Carric glanced around before replying. “Sure. I am in a quiet neighborhood bar. A place where people accept you for who you are, not judge you for what you are. A place where a person can enjoy the quiet company of friends, or enjoy a cold beer and be left alone.”
The bartender frowned for a moment. “Well, you summed us up pretty well. What can I get you?”
“A Harpoon IPA would be good.”
“Okay, coming right up.”
Carric watched her as she poured the beer from the tap. She was a handsome young woman, but a little too masculine for his tastes. Not that it mattered. This was not a place to try for a pickup.
The bartender came back with the cold mug of beer and set it down in front of him. He fished out a twenty and placed it on the counter. He took a sip of the beer, it was good and cold and with the nice extra bite of hops that he liked.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?”
Carric put the mug down before answering. “Besides knowing that I’ll be left alone here, I was hoping to chat with Mina.”
“You a friend of hers?” The bartender looked skeptical.
“Ah…more of an acquaintance than a friend. I ran into her years ago. I heard she had a nice little bar here in town and I thought I’d stop in and say hello.”
“I think there is something more.”
“Maybe. Is she here?”
“Yes, in the back room.”
“Can you ask her to come out? I’d like to say hello.”
“Sure.” She still looked skeptical, but she walked to the end of the bar and disappeared through the doorway.

While she was gone, several women came in and sat down at the bar, blocking Carric’s view of the doorway. He continued to sip his beer until he saw the bartender return.
“I didn’t get his name, but he seems okay.” She said as stopped in front of Carric.
Carric leaned forward just as Mina turned.
“You!” Mina exclaimed as she recognized him. Her hand lashed out and she grabbed his neck and squeezed. It was like a large pair of pump pliers squeezing his neck and trying to crush it. Carric tensed his neck muscles and Mina felt as if she was now holding a large iron pipe. He watched as her eyes changed from surprise to something darker. The darkness spread around her eyes until it was a swirling dark abyss. Carric smiled, then blinked to clear his vision and her eyes were suddenly their normal dark gray.
“Your powers won’t work against me Mina, but you know that from our last encounter. Stop trying to bend me to your will and release my neck.”
“You have some nerve showing your face in my bar.”
“Release me!”
“Or what?”
“Or I will cast such a glamour on you that you will strip your clothes off, crawl onto your bar and beg me to take you!”
“You wouldn’t”
“Remember what I did to you last time we met?”
Mina slowly released him and glared. “I hate you!”
Carric smiled. “No you don’t. You are just mad at me because I bested you.”
“You took from me!”
“Just as you were going to take from me. It’s just that I took control of you first. That’s what irks you.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“And you were going to be a bitch.”
She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Now. Why don’t you join me in a booth. I have a proposition for you. Something that can benefit us both.”

Sorrow

Bye Dad

Stones

Pain is sometimes good, I tell myself as I look over the concrete pad, half covered in stones.
Only a little left to do, 6-8 hours? Can my knees take it?
They have to, for there is no other to do the work. (WG’s knees can’t.)
All the tools are lined up, the mortar is mixed. I start.

I kneel next to the blue-gray flagstones, all carefully fitted, and move them out of the way.
Several scoops of mortar, smooth it, place the stone. Tap, adjust, level, ready for the next stone.
Wince
My knees complained from the first moment I knelt. The left one screams at me if I twist it too far. The three Motrin I took with breakfast only dull the screams a little. The four I’ll take with lunch will keep the bastard quiet.

Tap, adjust, level, ready for the next stone.
Wince.

But it is really okay. The aches that start in my knees make me forget my other aches. No time to think about what might have happened at the convention in Vegas, what she might have done. You know that some drama-queen saw them together, put two and two together and came up with eight.
As word spread from DQ to DQ, the drama increased.

I shift my focus back to what I am doing. When you swing a rock hammer, you have to pay attention. Thumbs don’t take kindly to being whacked by a sharp edged hammer. And who wants bloodstains on the rocks?

So I ignore the lies I heard and concentrate on the stones and my complaining knee.

And maybe I’ll forget about the phone too.
Forget that I am hoping for good news from the hospital.
Forget that I am dreading the bad news.

Tap, adjust, level, ready for the next stone.
Wince.


Two days later, my knees don’t bother me much and work keeps me occupied. But the coming phone call looms.

So I will laugh and flirt with you when I see you on IM. Maybe it brightens my mood a little, but I will not darken yours. So I will lie and tell you all is well. That’s the nice thing about IM, no one can see my face. I can easily pretend that I am doing okay.



It’s all about dealing with the next stone.
And the stones are mine alone. So I keep them to myself.

STORYTIME - Whstler

Preamble to Whistler.

Some time ago, I was trying to explain to JD why I liked the night. But it’s not just the night, though I prefer the midnight hour. Early mornings are almost as nice, for everything is dark and quiet.

I told her about the opening lines of The Whistler and how I liked it.

All that made me think of a story and here it is.

And yes JD, I have been thinking about a story based on what you said you wanted. I think I have it thought out. I just have to figure out if I can write it.

GW

Whistler
By G.W. Hogg
©11-30-07

“I am the Whistler, and I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.”
The opening lines from the radio show, ‘The Whistler’

I used to love hearing those lines as they came out of the radio. For I knew that I was about to hear a strange tale of a crime gone wrong.

I still think about the show, as I walk the dark, quiet streets at five in the morning. Foggy mornings are better, as I walk with the dog. You can’t see across the street and the cone of light from the streetlamps makes a wall of white that you can’t see through. In the distance, I can see a figure crossing the street. It’s a dark shadow among other gray shadows. Maybe it’s another early morning walker, or something else?

I always wonder what is going on in the quiet houses, on the next dark street. Am I missing something nefarious that is happening maybe just a block away? Is there a shadow moving in those bushes over there? No, it’s just a cat that my dog wants to chase.

The darkness just before daybreak is okay, for life is returning to the land.

It was different, that night I slipped over the wall of the cemetery. The fog was thick, so I knew that no one could have seen me.
Inside the cemetery, the ground fog was much thicker. It rose off the acres of damp grass and like a gray tide, swept in and covered everything. I dropped into it and was enveloped by the damp darkness.

It was fun at first, as I wandered past the silent gravestones. I had been here with high school friends, but during the last few months, I came here more and more on my own.
It was nice and peaceful, walking through the gray mist. I could see maybe fifteen feet around me. No one to bother me, no one could see me.

I crossed the gravel walkway and entered a small group of trees and bushes. There was a clearing in the middle with a little stone bench. A nice secluded place to sit and think.
Just before I pushed through the bushes, I heard a clink, the clink of metal on stone.

I froze and held my breath. Cemeteries are supposed to be quiet. I moved slowly to my left, where there was a thinning in the bushes. I eased myself into the gap, careful to let the small branches bend and not break. Slowly, I pulled the last few leaves away and peeked into the clearing.

At first, all I could see was the indistinct shapes and shadows in the gray mist. But then I realized there was a man standing near the bench. Leaning against the bench was a shovel. I continued to watch and realized that the man was slowly taking off his shirt. The bench was ten feet from me, the man was five feet beyond that. I was puzzled and thought it would be best if I slunk back into the bushes. Then I saw movement on the ground. The fog cleared for a moment and I realized that the indistinct white shape was a naked woman. Her body was squirming back and forth, but her arms and legs were motionless.
I don’t know why, but I slowly crept out from the bushes towards the bench. I didn’t even have a knife on me, but the shovel was close. The man started humming to himself.
I reached the shovel and carefully wrapped my hands around it, lifting it silently away from the bench. The man was undoing his belt as I lifted the shovel over my head. Two quick steps, the woman’s eye got wide and the man started to turn.
And there was a thunk as shovel smashed into his head. The man collapsed and I paused. The sound was just like on the old radio shows, I thought.
The man started to move and I raised the shovel and hit him again. He moaned and I hit him again. He twitched and had to hit him again, then again and again and again.
I stopped when the shovel handle broke. I stood there, panting. There was a bloody mess at my feet and my head slowly cleared. I looked around and saw the man’s shirt. I picked it up, wiped off the shovel handle and dropped it.
I saw a silvery shape on the ground next to the man and I picked it up. It was knife about a foot long with a strangely decorated handle and sheath.

When I approached the woman on the ground, I realized it was a young girl. She was staked to the ground and squirming frantically against the ropes that held her. The gag in her mouth only allowed a whimper, but her eyes were frightened and pleading.
“It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.” I said it as softly as I could. Her eyes said she didn’t believe me. I draped the shirt over her, then unsheathed the knife and carefully cut the ropes that held her legs. She tried to kick me and I rolled out of the way.
As I got up, she was still trying to kick me.
“God damn it! I am trying to help you!” I barked at her.
She still tried to kick me. I sighed. I got up and went to one of her hands. When I cut the rope she rolled over and frantically grabbed at the last rope binding her.
“If you promise not to attack me, I’ll cut the last rope.”
She stopped and looked at me. Then she reached up and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
“Who are you?”
“Just a guy who went for a walk. Now, can I cut the rope without you hitting me?”
“Sh…Sure.”
“Okay.” I walked over and cut the last rope.
She scrambles away from me and I didn’t move. She picked up the shirt and put it on. I didn’t move.
When she realized I wasn’t going to do anything, she buttoned up the shirt.
“Now, let’s get you out of here.”
She nodded, then walked over to the dead man, looked at him for a moment then turned to me. “He was…He was gonna…he was going to…” Then she burst out crying. I walked over to her and put my arms around her and let her cry until the wracking sobs subsided.
She pulled back a little from me. “Thank…you.”
“You are welcome. Can we go?”
“Sure.”
I let her go and she let me go, then she grabbed my hand. I led her out of the clearing, keeping to the wet grass. Gravel would hurt her bare feet.
“Where are your clothes?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know where I am.”
I almost told her, but thought better of it. “I’ll have you out of her in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” And she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
I let go of her hand and took off my faded green jacket. I helped her into it and she grabbed a hold of my hand again.

The wrought iron front gate was too tall to climb, but the wall next to it had concrete planter boxes that we could climb. I made it to the top of the wall, reached down and pulled her up.
“Just hang on to my arms, like this.” I showed her how to grab my wrists. “I’ll lower you down and then you’ll have to drop the last few feet. Okay?”
“Sure.”
She was light and I held her easily as I lowered her towards the ground.
“Okay, it’s just a few feet. I’ll let go of your wrists. You let go when you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
I let go and then a moment later she let herself drop. She collapsed to one side, then slowly got to her feet. I swung myself over the wall, hung for a second and dropped.

As soon as I stood, she grabbed my hand again.
“Come on, there’s a service station at the end of the block. There’s a pay phone there.”

It was brighter here, with the streetlights and the fog was not as thick. The closed service station was still lit up. No cars on the road at this hour. Bright, quiet and well past midnight.
I fished a dime out of my pocket, put it in the slot and hit the ‘O’.
It rang once and was picked up.
“Operator.”
“Operator, I need the police.”
“One moment please.” Click, ring.
“Police department, Sergeant Buckler.”
“Sergeant, I am at the corner of Valley Road and Main. There is a girl with me who was attacked by some man. And she needs help.”
“Listen kid, this had better not be some joke!”
“There is also a dead man in the cemetery. I had to smash his head in to save the girl.”
“What?”
“There is dead man in the ‘Remembrance grove’.”
“What’s your name kid.”
“That doesn’t matter. Please send someone to help her.” I hung up the phone. And turned to the girl. “The Police should be here soon.”
“You’re leaving me?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
“Why?”
“I am not supposed to be out at night. Mom and Dad would be pissed.”
“But, but, if it wasn’t for you…I’d…”
“Be dead, or worse.”
“Worse…”
“But you’re gonna be okay now, you’re safe.”
“Who are you?”
I heard sirens in the distance, a bunch of them. “Whistler.”
“Whistler? That’s you’re name?”
“It’s close enough.”
“I’m Sue.”
“I am glad I was there to help you Sue.” I gave her a big hug and she held me tightly. The sirens were getting closer. I pulled back from her embrace and let my hands slide down her arms until I held her hands, then I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You’ll be okay now.”
“How can I thank you?”
“You just did, you’re safe.” I let go of her hands. “I have to go.”
“Your jacket?”
“Keep it, you need it.”
I turned and ran back to the cemetery. She yelled a thank you.

The planter boxes in the front of the cemetery were higher than the ones inside. I easily made it to the top of the wall. I turned and looked back at Sue. Even a block away, I could see her waving to me. I waved back just as four squad cars squealed around the corner. Two of them stopped next to Sue and the other two continued towards me. I waved once more to Sue then dropped back into the cemetery.

I ran for a while through the fog shrouded cemetery, then slowed to a walk. No one would see me now. The lights from the police cars would create a white wall that would also hide me.
I paused at the top of a rise, next to the wall and turned. I could see their lights as they drove up to the grove. Too far away and they weren’t looking for me yet.

As I climbed my tree that hung over the wall, I heard more sirens approaching. Everything was being taken care of, as it should be. I dropped to the wall, then rolled off the wall, hung for a second, then dropped to the ground. A quiet two block stroll and I was home.


I still have the strange knife, locked in a case and kept in the bottom of my desk. Once in a while I take it out and study it. I wonder about the evil that I stopped and wonder about the evil had already been done with it.

I stopped walking at night, but I still like to walk in the darkness of the early morning. The early morning feels better. The sleeping are about to wake and the dead have crawled back into their graves.