Too Wet or Too Dry by Sarah J. McNeal

 

Here in North Carolina it has rained almost every day this summer—even in August which is usually a rather dry month.

 

Meanwhile, out on the west coast forest fires are once again taking a toll. I wish I could send some of this rain across the country to the places that need it the most. An equal distribution of rain would be a good thing, God…just a suggestion.

Y'all stay safe wherever you are.

Excerpt:

Kyle kicked open the door of his mother’s former dress shop despite the sign that read, No Men Allowed. The raging fire upstairs in the private quarters made this an emergency, certainly enough to ignore that sign. Smoke began to fill the shop as he raced up the stairs calling out the name of the new shop owner. “Miss Beckett! Miss Mia Beckett, where are you?”

As he reached the landing of the second floor, he heard someone cough nearby. With the wet blanket wrapped around him he rushed toward the direction of the cough until he found the woman lying on the floor almost unconscious from smoke inhalation. As soon as he removed the wet blanket he wore and wrapped her in its protective layer, he scooped her up in his arms to carry her away from the flames and smoke. The scarf she wore fell away from her neck and her head lolled back against his chest to reveal a thin, straight scar that ran all the way across her throat from her left ear to her right. It wasn’t an old scar, most likely no more than two or three months in the past. She attempted to raise a hand as if to cover her throat and replace the silk scarf. He’d always seen her wear a scarf of some description or another around her neck since her arrival in town. Now he knew all those scarves were not her unique sense of fashion, but her desire to hide the scar. She was a woman attempting to keep a secret.

For more of my Wildings books click onto the “Wildings” in my signature.

Sarah J. McNeal

Diverse stories filled with heart

 

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The Mysterious Abandoned House by Sarah J. McNeal #AbandonedHouseMystery

Haunted House

When my family lived in Luthersburg, Pennsylvania before we moved to North Carolina in 1952 when I was 4 or 5 years old and my sister was 5 or 6. Next to our house was an open field and, on the other side of the field was an abandoned house. My sister and I were curious about that house. We knew it was empty.

In those days kids were off the leash and allowed to explore. Everybody knew everybody else and were all up in their business, plus the village was barely larger than a football field before it became fields, forest, and farms. It wasn’t like a crime-ridden city—not even close. So parents allowed kids to have the freedom to roam, explore, and play unattended by adults.

My sister and I decided to go to the empty house and see what was inside. The door was unlocked. I don’t remember if we knocked or just walked right in unannounced. Inside, all the furniture was in place, but the paint was peeling off of most of the pieces as if it had stood like that for years. The dishes were all stacked in the cabinets like they might have been washed, dried, and put away long ago and never touched again. I opened a drawer and found it filled with flatware. The spoons, knives, and forks were sort of untidy in their arrangement, but still, it all seemed present. I do have to admit to a crime here. I stole a butter knife. I don’t know why, I just liked it and nobody lived there anymore, right?

While we were sorting out things in the kitchen, we heard footsteps upstairs. Our eyes met, widened with terror. I couldn’t seem to move. So we stood absolutely still like rabbits. There was a rustling sound and then footsteps again. Fear animated us. We scrambled out the door and ran all the way across the field until we reached the safety of our home and ran up to our room to stare out the window to see if anyone—or any thing might be coming after us. There was nothing except an open field and an empty house. We never went back to the house again and, as far as I know, no one was known to live there again. I will never forget that event for as long as I live.

Have any of you had an experience like mine? Have you ever gone into an abandoned house? Did you see anything interesting there?

Sarah J. McNeal

Diverse stories filled with heart

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My Childhood Home

This is the house where my sister, Mary, and I were raised. Originally, the front portion was a two story log house. In the 1940's more rooms were added to the back for a big kitchen, dinning room and bathroom. The owners who renovated it made every room downstairs paneled in cedar and French doors everywhere. They also added a screened in porch on the right with a room above it with four big picture windows on 3 walls. I wish they had thought to properly in...sulate that upstairs room because it was kinda cold in winter. This picture was taken on one of those rare winter snow days, I am not certain of the year this was taken, but I'm guessing in the 1960's.

The house is still there on Tuckaseegee Road, but some things have changed, The big oak tree in the front yard is gone and the field across the road is now a housing development.
I rarely go by there. It's across town from where I live now and it makes me feel sad that strangers live there now. I have some warm and wonderful memories as well as some sad ones from all the years I lived there. If houses could talk, just imagine what they could tell us.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

To all my Irish friends and to those who are only Irish for today--Have a happy Saint Patrick's Day!
Go Green!