I may chat about my books, what I'm writing or reading, or just general thoughts. You may read posts about my cats or just my crazy life in general. Comments are welcome, if anyone wants to interact with me. Maybe we can share war stories, whether it's writing related or just about life in general.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

The Desert is Cold

Hi guys,

    I’ve been writing on my WIP like mad, so haven’t written up a post for today. I did find an old, crazy story in my files that I wrote up off-the-cuff a couple of years ago. It was one of those days. My mind was wondering into my fantasy world, as it does from time to time. I dusted it off, so I’m posting that today.
    I know I promised an Alaska story and I’ll get to that, perhaps in my post for Wednesday. It has been cold enough around here to write about Alaska. It was 10 degrees last night and supposed to be 7 degrees tonight with a high of 27 on both days. We never got over freezing yesterday either. It’s actually terrible if you hate cold weather like me, but I do have to say we have sunshine and no SNOW, which I really despise.
    I feel sorry for the birds that are looking for water and it freezes about as soon as we put it out. This morning, even though it is frosty, there are two chipmunks out there. Those little buggers are scurrying about when they are supposed to hibernate in the winter, but there are always a couple that are shy of a full deck and come out anyway. We also have a rabbit out there today munching on the frozen grass.
    Anyway, without further rambling, here is my crazy, short story.


The rescue of Ms X

         Ms. X was walking down the sidewalk wearing a big read floppy hat. All of a sudden, a big gust of wind caught her up and carried her down the street. She was flying over the rooftops not knowing what to do as she saw the traffic going by below.
       A few minutes later, the wind deposited her onto the steeple of the nearby church. The Father ran outside when he heard all the commotion. Ms X was screaming for help from his steeple. Why, how on Earth did she get up there? The Father wondered, and he fretted about how to get her down when along came farmer Bob in an old, beat up truck.
       “What can we do?” the father cried. He was beside himself that Ms X would fall off and hurt herself. She screamed, whipping her arms about, trying to get someone’s attention in hopes that a rescuer would arrive.
       “Hold on Father, I have a ladder at the barn,” the farmer said and climbed back into his rusted, blue truck and rambled off down the road.
       Meanwhile the neighbors heard the racket Ms X was making and one by one, they ventured to the country church to lend a hand. Father went into the parish to see if he could call the fire brigade to come and help. They were good with emergencies.
       “Help, help,” Ms X screamed. She wrestled to free her dress off the steeple.
       “Just stay put ma’am, we’ll get you down from there.” The local barber assured her. But no sooner had his words left his mouth that Ms X let out a yelp as she slid down the steep slope of the roof.
       “I’m falling,” she cried, trying to grab onto the shingles on the way down.
       Mabel had been walking by with a basket full of laundry. She was on her way to washateria down the road. “Quick, help me,” she called. “Stretch out a sheet. If we hurry we may catch her as she slides off.” She squatted to dig through the dirty laundry. As she quickly shuffled through the heap, her skirt rose up to reveal her withered legs and old stockings rolled down at the ankles. Things fell from the basket onto the lawn and soon unmentionables were scattered all about the grounds of the church. “Oh dear,” she bit her lip and pulled her threadbare skirt over her bony knees. This is really no time to be modest when there is a life at stake.
       The neighbors gathered pulling and tugging at the wadded up sheet until the corners unravelled, each held taught by a group of unlikely characters. They all hoped the makeshift net would hold as they rushed toward the church. Ms X wasn’t the smallest lady in the village.
       “Quick run this way boys,” Mabel directed the rescue crew.
       Ms X had shifted to grab hold of her last hope – an exhaust pole from the churches bathrooms that protruded through the roof. That was a ghastly move because the old rusty pipe bent and broke; causing her body to take a turn. She found herself now sliding down at the north end of the building. Luckily, the old pipe caught on the edge of a shingle that had lifted up in all the heavy rain.
       Everyone hurried around spurred on by Mabel who was shouting and bringing up the rear.
       “Hurry Mr. Peabody,” Mabel shouted. Mr. Peabody waddled along in his plaid vest trying to keep up. She knew that one day his weight would cause a problem. She just never expected this to be the day.
       Wayward Clyde tried to pick up the slack. He was a country boy working in the dry goods store for the summer. Long, lean, and disheveled, he had the look of just stepping out of the hay barn. In fact, when business was slow, he would stand on the porch and pluck a blade from the broom to chew on. Instead of sweeping and tidying up, he would sit on the old barrel and chew on that straw as he watched the girls go by.
       Arnold ran the butcher shop and a fine butcher he was, short and stocky, yet very able-bodied. No one would want to be the poor beef that came up against his cleaver. He had hold of the corner opposite Clyde and stood with this white apron askew wanting to get the business over with, so he could get back to work.
       “When we finish here I think we should hold a pot luck supper at the church,” Hazel said, as she scurried around. She was the social butterfly of the group, always organizing the village get-togethers and bake sales. “That will surely lift everyone spirits. I’ll make my apple strudel.”
       “Hazel we can socialize later,” Mabel scolded. “We better hurry, or it isn’t a potluck we’ll all be attending.”
       “Oh Mabel dear, don’t be such a pessimist,” Hazel replied.
       “Help, I can’t hold on any longer.” Ms X screamed, as she listened to all the gossip below. That got the attention of the rescue squad. They ceased all their chatter and get into position below the slope of the roof. Everyone stood ready with a taught sheet as Ms X plunged off the roof at great speed, bounced a couple of times before finally coming to rest.
       “What are you looking at boy?” Ms X glared at Clyde who snickered.
       “Nothing, ma’am, nothing,” he blurted, as Wilbur hit him on the head.
       Ms X was very embarrassed and covered her legs as Mabel and Wilbur helped her to her feet.
       “Oh my poor hat will never be the same,” Ms X looked at it sorrowfully. “I was going to wear this to the spring social. Oh dear, I think this dress is ruined too.” She looked down at her torn frock. “I just don’t know what happened. One minute I was taking a nice walk and the next I was airborne.”
       “Well let’s get you washed up dear. Everything will be okay I’m sure,” Mabel took an arm and, helped by Hazel, they took her up the steps and into the washroom of the church.
       About then, the old farmer, Bob, rambled up in his blue truck. The door creaked open on squeaky hinges and he hopped out and dusted off his overalls. “I’ve brought the ladder boys,” he shouted.
       “What took you so long? We’ve already rescued Ms X,” Henry ran over to help, his bare feet slapping on the sidewalk.
       “Bessie got out of the barn. Course you know I couldn’t have that, my milk cow wandering off.” With hooded eyes, Bob looked around. “What else happened while I was gone?” He was shocked as he looked around. Littering the church grounds were shingles and assorted laundry. Half the town stood around.
       “It’s a long story Bob. I’ll tell you over checkers,” Leroy pulled him aside. “You want to take this rattle trap, or should I drive?” He pushed his visor back and waited for a reply. His white shirt rippled in the breeze as he pulled out a notebook to make notes of the scene.
       “Come on folks, let’s move along, and stop gawking. All ended well. See everyone at the potluck later,” the Father clapped his hands, as he moved around the parishioners.
       “Yes Father.” “Of course, Father.” “We’re looking forward to it.” Mumbles went around the crowd as people started to disperse.
        Everyone in the little village went back to their normal routine after cleaning up the church grounds. It was a marvel they could all come together to rescue poor Ms X and what great thinking on Mabel’s part, who just happened to be going by at that moment on her way to the laundry.
        “What a great little village we all live in,” Leroy remarked as he finished off the article for the local paper.


  1. Hi sunni, Read your short story, "The Rescue of Ms. X. Really enjoyed it. I liked the old farmer, Bob. Never on time. He will probably be late for his own funeral. Loved all the characters. Blessings.

  2. Johnny,

    Thanks for reading and posting. I'm glad you enjoyed the story. I wrote that off-the-cuff about 2 years ago.

    Blessings to you too.


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