Dark Woods : Prologue ©2017

Prologue

            The house was dark and dingy.  It was kept tidy but the walls were dark now, no longer bright and vibrant like they were when she was little. Years of dust and grime, dirty hands and no one washing the walls had taken its toll. They didn't have much stuff, anyway, to keep clean. The carpets were worn down from foot traffic, with stains here and there.  The windows had layers of filth on them, practically blocking out the sun some. 

She slowly stepped down the stairs, being sure not to step on any of the sweet spots that would alert her father or brother she was coming down them.  She had painstakingly learned were every squeaking spot was.  She’d walk on her tippy toes down the steps, with her heart racing so fast and beating so hard inside her chest that she wondered if someone were standing beside her, they would hear it. 

She knew they were up to something.  Something bad, because they were horrible people.  Not that they ever did something good.  Everything they did was selfish. She had practically become invisible, not that she cared.

They claimed she was the bad one.  The dirty whore.  The unwanted bitch.  Anything that they could throw from their tongue that they thought would hurt her.  It never did, though.  Not anymore.  Not after everything they had done to her, to her body. She was used to it. Numb to it.  There was a time where it would hurt her, but not anymore.

            As careful as she was being, she hit a squeaky board that seemed to echo through the house.  Stopping instantly, she froze. She held her breath, she waited, and listened to see if she had alerted them.

When she was little, she dreaded leaving her school.  Most kids couldn't wait for that three o’clock bell to ring.  She hated it.  Life at home, it wasn't easy. She wasn’t like the other kids, there was no “love” in her house.  Her father was a drunk and her mother was weak. All her mother did was do whatever it was her father told her mother to do.   She realized now, her mom was extremely frightened of her father.  She realized now, he beat her mother daily.  At the age of six, she learned what a blow job was because her father told her mother to do it in front of her.  He hadn't cared, nor had the woman who was supposed to be a mother to her. 

But there were moments in her life filled with love and caring and hope.  Before he had broken her mother down to a shell of a person.  She had talked to her once about running away from the man that fathered her.  About taking her baby girl and escaping.  Though that day never came.  She had longed for it, waited it so badly, even at a young age, but it never happened.

            She spent years locked up in her room, with the lock on the hallway side of the door.  Trapped.  She had a mattress on the floor, some toys her grandparents had given her that her father couldn’t figure out how to return for money.  She had a few books, which she had read over and over again.  She liked getting lost in the worlds of Little Women and The Secret Garden.  Her grandmother on her mom’s side had sent her the Anne of Green Gables series, and those were her favorite books.  Especially since she could identify with Anne.  Feeling alone and unwanted, but just trying to find the good and bright and happy.  Looking to finally have a home, and to feel loved.

            In grade school she was expected home immediately.  When she got home, she would get shoved into her room and pushed down.  The door would slam shut behind her and the echo of the metallic click of the lock would echo through the room. They would bring her a plate to eat at some point, but usually it was cold. 

In middle school, she was allowed to join after school programs or sports.  When she was told she could, she was shocked.  Her parents didn’t want to draw attention to their family, they felt if she was active after school she would appear more normal. They knew what was going on in their house was wrong.  It wasn’t even the worst of things to come.  She learned to use the showers in the gym locker room every morning, the P.E. teacher kept some lost and found, clean clothes there in some boxes.  When she couldn’t manage to wash her own clothes in the bathroom at home or in the shower, she would usually take from there.  She joined the Track Team and Photography Club, along with a few other social circles.  She was told if she ever told anyone what was going on at home, she would be killed.  She knew they would do it, so she didn’t dare.   She did whatever allowed her to be home a lot less, so she took every opportunity not to be home. 

It was then that the beatings started.  He’d hit her … places people were less likely to see, and he enjoyed it.  He loved it.  It was around the end of middle school that her mother disappeared.  One weekend there was an out of town track event and she had been allowed to stay with a friend. It was the first “best weekend” of her life.  When she had come home he told her that mother ran away. 

She spent some time hating her mother.  Hating her with every fiber of every cell inside her.  How could she run away and leave her there?  How could she leave without her?  She cried that night, all night.   

            Her brother was treated completely different than she was.  He was three years older than she was, but he was treated like the prodigal prince.  He did anything their father said, and was as twisted in his sick mind like their father was.  Especially now that he wasn’t in school. She remembered when he used to try to protect her.  He’d take a beating for her when she did something wrong.  Then one day the light in his eyes just changed. He became scary and angry.

When she started high school, she continued with Track and Photography.  She also joined a Writing Club.  They no longer locked her in her room because she didn’t leave her room, she preferred to be as far away from them as she could.  She found music.  She found a clock radio at a garage sale for a quarter once, the people saw her looking at it and told her she could have it after a short conversation.  She ran from that garage sale before they could change their minds. 

At school, she noticed her brother was constantly watching her.  Then one night her door opened, and he came in.  He had just taken a shower and was only in a towel.  Her gut twisted inside her, as if to warn her she’d never be the same.  He let the towel drop.  When she screamed, she thought she could hear her father laughing from the hallway.  He had come to her all through her freshman year.  Her father and her brother took turns, sometimes the same night.  Sometimes they’d tie her up, they would always cover her mouth in some way so her screams couldn’t be heard.  Eventually, she just stopped screaming. 

It stopped when he got a girlfriend.  She knew that he abused the girlfriend, and she knew it was bad that she was thankful his attention was off her. Once her brother got bored with her, so did her father.  She was left alone.  Several months later, her brother’s girlfriend disappeared.  The police kept showing up, dragging her father and brother down to the police station to question them.  Eventually that stopped too.

After the girlfriend was gone, both her brother and her father would sneak into her room again.  Sometimes they’d watch each other and take turns. It didn’t matter how much she screamed, or cried, so she stopped. She’d just let them do what they did and she’d just lay there. 

            Then she noticed there was more and more women going missing around town, she’d hear about it around school.  Her dad and brother were spending less time at home and when they were home they were usually in the basement.  She noticed one day there was a pad lock on the basement door. In her gut, she knew.  But she had to be sure. 

            She stopped holding her breath.  She hadn’t noticed any sounds from them, no one came around the corner to hit her and tell her to go back to her room.  She felt sick.

            She was only fifteen and it felt like she had lived a lifetime of hell.

            Now, right now, it didn't seem like the squeak had gotten their attention.  She wasn't sure where they were or if they were even home.  They seemed to travel together, everywhere.  Where one of them was, both of them were.  She knew she had to be sneaky. 

            She allowed herself to breathe again and continued down the stairs.  She tip-toed through the living room and into the kitchen, again, avoiding any sort of squeaky board.  That’s when she heard them coming up the stairs from the basement, talking.  She hit in the corner of the pantry wall and the kitchen wall.  It was just big enough for her to flatten her back against and hide.  She prayed they were headed out the back door and wouldn’t walk past her.  Surely, they would see her if they did.  Surely, she was in for it, a beating, being raped, something would happen if they found her.  She tried to make herself as small as possible, willed herself to form into the tiny box the walls made.

            “What are you going to do about her?”  It was her brother’s husky voice.  You could hear the anger dripping from every word.  Anything coming out of his mouth had rage dripping from it. 

            “Well, we will do what we do with them all.”  Her dad growled.  Neither of them knew how to talk.  They both sounded completely uneducated and like cavemen. 

            “What about the parasite upstairs?  When are we going to take care of her?”

            “Soon,” her father said as they opened the back door.  Her heart stopped, her breath held.  “Can’t do it too soon, they’ll look at us cuz of your mother and Vicky.”  Her heart dropped.  She had been wondering lately if they had killed her mother.  If they had killed his girlfriend Vicky.  They both had just disappeared into thin air, never to be heard from again.  This confirmed it for her.  They had been involved with the disappearance of her mom and her brother’s girlfriend. 

            “I want to do her,” her brother said, she could almost see the disgusting smile spread across his face with the thought, like the Joker in Batman.  She had seen that movie at her friend Gabby’s house.  She didn’t get to watch television or movies much.  Only when she could spend the night with her best friend.  “I want to watch her bleed while I am inside her.”  Her stomach knotted up and she felt like she was going to throw up.  They were going to kill her, she realized.

            Her dad laughed, “Soon, right now you can imagine these other women are her,” and the back door opened and shut after they shuffled out.  She stayed pressed against the wall until she heard the roar of the run down, beat up car they had.  They were leaving. 

            If it wasn’t for her close friendship with Gabby, she didn’t know how she could have survived.  She remembered her dad, one night, threating to do to Gabby what he did to her.  She started screaming, and fighting, and she realized later it was that reaction he had wanted out of her. She debated on keeping away from Gabby, but when it came down to it, she couldn’t.  It was Gabby who started calling her Bella.  It was the first nickname, besides bitch and whore and whatever else her father and brother called her.  They certainly never called her Maribel.  Her mom had called her Mari when she was little, but it had been so long, she had almost forgotten. 

            She sighed, in relief, when the sounds of the car grew further away.  She moved quickly through the small kitchen, through the mess they had created and never cleaned up.  Now that her mother was gone no one could be forced to do the cleaning but her, and they barely bothered to make her anymore. She saw the cockroaches crawling all over everything, they didn’t bother to hid anymore.  Usually she could find an army of ants in the kitchen too.  She never bothered to eat there anymore.  They only meals she had, were the ones she could get at school. 

She made her way to the basement steps which were by the back door. She expected they would soon go to her room, drag her down by her hair, as they had done before, and demanded she clean up after them.  She wasn't allowed to eat with them, she got scraps when they were done, if she was lucky.  So she didn’t even eat that anymore, she wouldn’t eat unless it was at school.

            She went down the stairs and saw they had added another lock to the door.  She panicked for a moment.  Then looked around.  On the window sill was a key.  She grabbed it and prayed it opened it.  When the lock clicked, she took a deep breath and opened the door. 

            The smell that escaped the room was horrible. It is what she was met with first.  It was so horrible that she had grabbed the top of her shirt and covered her mouth and nose with it.  Then she flipped on the light. She saw blood.  So much blood.  There was a woman in a cage, tied up and gagged, she didn’t respond to the light.  Her eyes stayed shut and she was slumped over in the corner of the cage.  She thought she might be dead. 

            She almost vomited.  She turned around quickly, she almost ran.  That’s when she noticed all the padding on the walls in the basement.  On the back of the door.  Everywhere.  There wasn’t a part of the room that didn’t have some kind of blood splatter on it.  Most of it was dried on.  There were weird things hanging from the ceiling.  Different things built into the walls.  She thought it was like a torture chamber that she read about in books.  So many thoughts rushed through her head as she was taking stock of the room.  There was an old work bench, one that used to have tools on it that now had different kinds of knives and other things.  She saw what looked like leather collars for dogs, some with balls in the middle of them.   She saw a weird looking saw hanging on the wall.  A box of those really big black trash bags.  Then she saw all the pictures, the instant camera kinds with the white frame around them They were alll over the wall above the tool bench.  Then she noticed them on some of the back walls, covering the back wall. There were so many photos.   

She knew … she knew what she had to do.  She shut off the light, rushed up the stairs, shut the door and put the lock back on.  She ran up the stairs and practically jumped on the kitchen counters, causing dishes to clang to the floor, bugs scattered, to find the coffee can her mom use to hide money in that she kept on the very top of the cabinets. She had always said it would be their running away money.  She was hoping and praying it was still there.  She reached up and patted the top of the cupboards around, she felt dead bugs, and a few live ones’ crawl across her hand. She didn’t scream or flinch because she couldn't see and she was too busy praying she’d find the metal can.  When the very tips of her fingers touched something metal, she almost cheered. Her finger tips tried to work it out of the far corner and she struggled to get a grasp on it.  When she finally did she grabbed the can, pulling it out as quickly as she could.  She paused long enough to pull the plastic cover up to see if there was money still in there, and when she saw there was, she closed it.  She jumped off the counter, falling to her knees and ran through the house and up the stairs.  She grabbed her school backpack, throwing a few things in there, threw the can in there, the books she had been given.  She turned the clock radio on that she had gotten from that garage sale.  She stuffed anything she could find under her blanket on the mattress making it look like she was laying under the covers. 

Once she was satisfied it looked like she was laying there sleeping she looked around her room one last time.  When her eyes rested on the blue teddy bear her grandmother had sent her, the last thing she had ever gotten from her, she grabbed it and opened the bag one last time and closed it again. 

            Her heart was racing so hard she thought it was going to jump out of her chest.  She turned off the light, slammed her bedroom door, she flipped the lock for good measure, making it look as if they had locked her in.  She ran out of the house.  She didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something.  She had to …

She stopped, freezing in place, she could hear the car coming down the street.  The loud engine was unmissable.  She panicked, looked around for a place to hide. She ducked into a bush and watched them pull into the driveway and they kept going to the back of the house by the garage and the back door.  She stayed there until she knew they had gone in the house.

            She had to save herself.  She had to try to save that woman if she wasn't already dead.  

            It was only then that she ran.  She ran like her life depended on it, because it did.  She ran like there were wolves snapping at her feet.  She realized she was running to her friend’s house.       She didn’t know how long it had taken for her to get there, she had no idea because it didn’t feel that long, but it felt like forever all at the same time.  She reached the door, covered in sweat and tears, and collapsed on the front step.  She started beating on the door with her fist as she screamed for help, with the last bit of energy she had.  Her breath was labored, she felt like she was in a tunnel and the walls were closing in on her.  She beat on the door until her hand couldn’t move anymore and then she just cried.  She didn’t realize it was only thirty seconds before someone made it to the door and threw it open to see her in the fetal position with her red fiery hair covering her face.  She heard her friend’s brother scream for his Dad. 

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.  She felt herself being lifted by some very strong arms.  Protective arms.  She had never before felt that in her life.  “Bella,” he gasped as he carried her up the stairs and laid her gently on the couch.  It was where she broke down crying, sobbing, and telling her friend’s frightened parents everything.  Every dirty rotten secret she held in her heart.  Everything she saw.  Everything they had done to her.  Everything she knew in her bones to be true.  Her father and brother were murderers.  They killed her mother, and all the women that had been in the news she heard about at school.  She knew it. 

            Then the cops came.  So many cops, she had thought.  She had to repeat everything.  There were looks exchanged between the cops.  Cops, she had been told, to never trust.  Here she was spilling her guts out to them.  Gabby’s parents had begged the cops to let her rest, but they had to take her to the police station. 

Despite the objections of her friend’s parents, they took her into the police station, and she had to repeat everything, all over again. They didn’t put her in one of those cold rooms with the two-way mirrors that she had seen on some movie at some point, but it looked more like a meeting room.  She told them everything.  She was there for hours, it felt like days. 

When she left the room for a bathroom break, at one point, she walked through the sea of desks to the bathroom where she had been instructed to go.  She had stopped dead in her tracks.  She couldn’t move and she realized she was holding her breath.  She could hear her father screaming.  Every other word was a f-bomb.  She looked up and saw officers pushing her father, cuffed up, through a hallway on the other side of a glass partition that separated the room of desks from other areas of the police station.  She saw him spit on a cop and then throw his head back and laugh manically before he tried to head butt another cop.  Then two cops came down the same hallway pushing her brother down the hall, also cuffed up.  His head was hanging.  It almost looked like he was shameful.  Almost like he was remorseful.  

“Hey,” a cop came up to her, put his hand on her back which made her jump like a scared rabbit.  “Sorry,” he whispered.  “Are you okay?” 

She nodded.  Looked back to where they had walked her father and brother but they were gone.  “Bathroom,” she whispered.  He pointed where she had been instructed to go. 

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw some looks that made her feel funny and self-conscious.  Some of the cops watched her make her way back to the room she had been sitting in with looks of sorrow. 

When she got into the room, she almost wanted to just curl up into a ball and hide.  Except there were a couple of officers in the room, the one who had been talking to her, and now another one.  He had some pictures in his hand, the instant camera kind, ones she bet were from the basement of her house. 

“Hey Maribel,” the new cop said softly and sweetly.  “I have some pictures that I want you to look at,” he told her.  “These ones are of some faces, just faces,” he continued.  “We just want to know if you recognize anyone.”

She sat down as he had been talking to her.  She nodded.  He put down the photos, one by one.  In a line, and another line, and another line.  He kept pulling more out of a clear bag he had sitting on a chair on the other side of the table.  There ended up being, what seemed like, a hundred photos covering the table. “These are only some of the polaroids that we had collected from the basement.” She had to get up from her seat to look at all of them.

She looked at each one carefully.  Giving each some thought.  “I recognize some of them from the newspapers that floated around at school.” She told them.  And then she stopped dead, as her heart sank into her stomach.  She pointed at the picture, “that’s my mom.”   She could tell that her head – her lifeless eyes – was no longer connected to her body.  Even though her neck was at the edge of the photo, she could see the jagged cuts and red flesh under the skin all the way to the to the grass it had been laying on. 

There was a photo that wasn’t too far off from the one of her mom.  It was Vicky, her brother’s girlfriend that had disappeared.  “That’s Vicky,” she stammered on the verge of tears.  Vicky wasn’t dead in her photo.  She was very much alive, with tears running down her cheeks.  Silver duct tape over her mouth.  Her vibrant green eyes were wide with fear and begging.  Snot coming out of her nose.  You could tell someone had a handful of her reddish-brown hair, tugging on it, like they were making her pose and look at the camera.  She was clearly terrified.  Under the photo, in big black bold letters, someone had written “whore.” 

She had been there a few more hours until a lady from Family and Children showed up.  When she did, she talked with her a little bit.  Told her that she was going to be placed with a family.  Bella just nodded in response.  After some chatting with her, they got up to leave the room.  She assumed she was going to get driven to some stranger’s house, but instead she was taken to a room where Gabby’s parents were waiting. 

“Oh, thank God!” Gabby’s mom, Rose, had shouted.  “Oh, my dear sweet Bella,” the tears started to pour out of her eyes as she jumped up out of a chair and enveloped Bella into her arms.  She felt warmth and safety.  She wondered if this is what love and family felt like.  Trust.   Gabby’s dad stood up and shook the Family and Children’s lady’s hands and thanked her over and over. Bella just broke down into more tears until she didn’t think she had any left.  It was then that Rose lifted Bella’s face, looked deep into her eyes, and told her they were taking her “home.”  She thought that they just meant their home, but she’d soon discover they meant it was her home too. 

A year later, Bella wasn’t as twig like as she had once been.  She had a little bit of meat on her bones and curves to her body.  Things weren’t easy.  The nightmares were horrible, the fear and need to be constantly looking over her shoulder was too much at times.  She wasn’t used to being part of a family, let alone feeling like someone actually cared about her like Rose and Phillip did.  They treated her like they did Gabby and her brother Reed. 

Being dragged into the court house for the trial was hard too.  The judge was nice enough to not have her father and brother in the court room when she was needed to testify.  When the custody rights had been taken away from her father and given to Rose and Phillip, it wasn’t hard to be at the court house, but she was still extremely uncomfortable around all the legal people after it had been beaten in her head that they couldn’t be trusted. 

She realized it was wrong, but the feelings were still there.  At least she could argue it in her head, even though her stomach was doing cartwheels inside her. 

And all the doctors, and the psychiatrists, and everyone else she had to talk to, tell the story over and over to, and work through her feelings with – made her want to scream. 

She just wanted to bury her head in the sand.  Wanted it all to just disappear so she never had to open her mouth about it again.  She wanted a new name, she wanted to be rid of being the daughter and sister of the murderers of Broward County.  When Rose and Phillip adopted her, she got the chance to change her name.  So, she did. She was no longer Maribel Susan Holister, and she never would be again. 

            When the trial was over, Phillip put in for a transfer with the company he worked for.  He got transferred to Oregon, about as far away from Florida as you can get.   They got uprooted but she looked forward to being somewhere where no one recognized her as the daughter of the serial killer, the sister of his apprentice.  Where she could just be herself and learn to get beyond her past to live a more normal life.

Other Washington Lore

I had no idea about some of the great stuff listed HERE ..... like the following....

HERE is some interesting Lore in Washington ....  like this one ....

The Bottomless Pit - Eastern Washington State

They call it Mel's hole, named after the man who first reported the pit's existence. Apparently the hole is located in the hills of Washington somewhere near Manatash Ridge, in Ellensburg, Washington.

As the story goes, much like any bottomless pit legend, you can throw in as much stuff as you want yet you will never hear it hit bottom and the hole never seems to fill up. Now if this was all to the legend I would simply pass it off as an underground stream, or something of that nature, washing away anything that might be thrown in, but there's more, much more.

According to the legend the hole was once used for cow dumping, an act once commonly practiced to dispose of sick cattle. The story told by Mel Water's, a self proclaimed inter-tribal medicine man named Red Elk, and several other eye witnesses is that at certain times of the day a black beam can be seen coming out of the hole.

The witnesses have described this beam as a dark column-like shadow, rising straight into the air and appearing out of nowhere. Water's also tells the tale of a local hunter dumping his dog into the hole after it's accidental death, only for the dog to appear trotting out of the woods several hours later. All witnesses involved, have claimed to feel an uneasiness whenever they're near the pit, and that animals seem to avoid the area as much as possible.

And ....  this...

Here Are The Creepiest Monster Legends From Every State In The Country

Monster: The Batsquatch

I'm trying to find some local legend to attach to my story and I come across this ....   From HERE ...  there is one listed for ever state!

WASHINGTON

Photo by docentjoyce.

Monster: The Batsquatch

The gist: Do I really have to spell it out for you?

Story: Sure, Mount Everest may have the Abominable Snowman, but Mt. Saint Helens has the Batsquatch. Only one of these mountain creatures has wings, so it’s obvious which one would win in a fight. First reported in 1980, the Batsquatch is said to have purple skin, piercing red eyes, a head resembling a cross between and an ape, and, duh, wings. According to unknown-creatures.com, a peer-reviewed online science journal, “some believe that it is actually a flying primate but researchers claim that it is more closely joined to the fruit bat of northern America.” And as typically happens with such beasts, it’s said to go after local livestock. At least one source believes that the creature comes not from Earth, but from another dimension opened up by the eruption of the volcano. Only one person, Butch Whittaker, has come forward with a full sighting. In 1994, while preparing to climb the mountain, he saw a strange, horrid, winged beast in the air. There are claims he has photos, but they don’t appear to be available online. Someone should start a Kickstarter to get him a scanner.
 

Hat Terminology & Uniform Info

I was looking up some hat details tonight - working on a story that has smacked me in the face.  At least the first scene and .... so I wanted a place to store it, great place right here.

Campaign Hat   <=== this is what I was looking for

Classes of Officer Uniforms

But this is good to know.

Hat Terminology -- All the Words You Need to Know!

If you're in the market for a hat, you need to make sure you get the right one!  No matter what kind of event you're getting ready for, using the right terminology will ensure that you wind up with a hat that meets your expectations.

Here are some of the most commonly-used words in the hat industry:

Beret -- a hat made out of felt or cloth with a wide, flat, round crown.

Bucket hat -- a casual cloth hat with a wide, downward-sloped brim that looks similar to an upside down bucket.  These hats are worn by both men and women, and they're most commonly seen on the beach.  For colder weather, you can get a bucket hat made out of wool or fur.

Cap -- a hat with a small brim in the front.  While the terms "cap" and "hat" are often used interchangeably, they are not the same thing.  A "cap" only refers to a small-brimmed hat -- like a baseball cap, for example -- while the term "hat" can be used to describe a variety of different styles.

Cashmere -- a type of wool that's incredibly soft and fine.  This wool comes specifically from the Kashmir goat, hence the name.

Church hat -- a fancy women's hat worn for Sunday worship.  Church hats are most common among African-American women.  These hats come with bold adornments, like bows, ribbon, sequins, or flowers.  

Cocktail hat -- a small hat for women that's usually worn on the front part of the head.  Typically, these hats come with a variety of adornments -- such as feathers, beads, jewels, flowers, or even a veil.  These hats are often seen at cocktail parties, which is where the name comes from.  However, they don't have to be worn at night.  These hats are also popular during daytime activities, like horse races.  The terms "cocktail hat" and "fascinator" are often used interchangeably.

Cowboy hat -- a hat with a wide brim and a tall crown that's typically made of felt or leather.  Originally, these hats were worn by cow hands, which is where the name comes from.

Crown -- the topmost part of a hat.  Low crown hats have less volume, so they're better for people who don't have very thick hair on top of their head.

Fascinator -- also known as a "cocktail hat", these headpieces were originally made out of lightweight knit.  Today, the fascinator is considered to be a miniature women's hat that attaches to the top of the head with a band, comb, or clip.  Fascinators are generally accepted at any event where hats are accepted, particularly at horse racing events like the Kentucky Derby.

Fur -- material made from the soft underfur of a beaver, rabbit, or similar animal.  Fur hats have an amazing ability to retain heat and block wind, making them the perfect choice for cold, blustery weather.  Underfur is also naturally water-resistant, so your fur hat won't be ruined by a passing rain shower.

Leather -- material made from the skin of an animal.  Before it can be manufactured, the skin must be tanned, meaning that it has special preservatives applied to it that prevent decay, make it more pliable, and make it more supple.  That way, it's more durable and easier to shape.

Newsboy cap -- a casual round cap with a brim that's also referred to as a "flat cap".  Worn by both men and women, newsboy caps can be made out of cloth, wool, leather, and tweed.  

Panama hat -- a wide-brimmed hat worn by both men and women.  These hats are made out of straw that comes from the Jipijapa, a palm tree that's common in Central and South America.  Despite the name, these hats originated in Ecuador, not Panama.

Silk -- a fine, soft, strong fiber that's made by silkworms in cocoons.  The fibers are collected and made into thread and fabric.  Silk is unique because it's a good material for both hot and cold temperatures.  It has naturally-strong absorbent qualities that help keep your head cool in the summertime, but it also has a low conductivity level, so it will prevent too much heat from escaping your head in the wintertime.

Sinamay straw -- Made from banana plants grown in the Philippines, the fibers are woven together to make a stiff, coarse fabric.  

Sisal straw -- fiber that is made from the sisal plant.  This plant is a type of Mexican agave that's widely grown for its big sword-shaped leaves that contain stiff fibers.

Sun hat -- a wide-brimmed hat that typically has a high crown.  Because it is so wide, it protects the face, neck, and portions of the shoulders from direct exposure to the sun.  The best sun hats are made out of material that's thick enough to prevent any UV rays from penetrating.  Woven and mesh hats have tiny gaps in them that can let dangerous UV rays pass through.

Top hat -- a men's silk hat that's shaped like a tall cylinder with a narrow brim and a flat crown.  While the top hat was much more popular in the 18th and early 19th centuries, it is still seen at formal occasions today.  

Wool -- the fine, soft, curly or wavy hair of a sheep, goat, or similar animal.  Because the hair has a natural crimp to it, it's easier for the individual fibers to stick together -- generating a thicker, bulkier fabric that's strong enough to retain heat and block wind.  Wool is also highly water-resistant and moisture-wicking, meaning that it can draw sweat away from the skin.

Dance

She walked to the bar and stood there a moment watching the bartender.  He was good looking, the stereotyped tall, dark and handsome. He met her eye contact and nodded to her.  Knowing him, she knew that he'd be down her way soon and she turned around, leaning up against the bar with her elbows resting on the mahogany wood.

There was a local band that came in once a week warming up on the small stage in the corner of the bar.  The waitresses seemed to float around the bar with their trays bobbing between tables like some dance that only they knew.  There were some tables being moved around so that an area was created in case anyone wanted to dance.  There was a lot going on.

Some of the patrons that had been at the bar were making their way to tables around the floor to enjoy the music better.  Once a seat next to where she was standing became free, she claimed it.  Her brother was the drummer in the band, so she was a regular at the bar, especially when they were playing.

She turned herself around so she was facing the bar, looking at the mirrored wall with all the different colored and shaped bottles on the shelves that were both functional and decor.  It made a pretty wall.  She took a deep breath.

Today was the anniversary of the day her whole life changed.  She had a baby with a Trisomy 13.  A little girl they had named Eloise Hope.  She had been born a little early, and for thirteen glorious hours they got to hold her and love her and take photos.  And then she slipped away, growing her wings.  With her daughter’s death, came the death of her marriage.  Something just broke between them and the fun, loving, relationship was nothing but sorrow and anger.  He moved to a different state, and she sold and moved out of their home.  Her baby was buried there in the local cemetery, and she wouldn't be moving away.

It was two years ago.  Two whole years where you would think she would have started to move on, but she still had a crater sized hole in her heart and soul.  Something she knew would never go away.  Things may change, she may be able to deal with not only the loss of her child but the loss of her life she thought she would have.

It was all over.  But, she was creating a new life.

She got her degree and had started working as a kindergarten teacher at the local elementary school.  She got a new little house of her own.  She had plants that were still living.  She got herself a cat, and was thinking about getting a dog.

But right now, it was just her and Luna.  Her black cat.

"Hey," he said coming up to her from the other side of the bar.  She snapped out of the starring off into space, and thinking.

"Hey Eli," she said.  "How are you?"

"Great!" He smiled.   She actually loved his smile, his dimples, and his face.  She'd always been attracted to him.  They had a small thing freshman year of high school but it was one of those fleeting things that didn't last long but they were always friends.  Then drifted apart after high school.  Kept track of each other here and there through social media and spoke now and again.   "Divorce is finally final, no more ball and chain."

He had married his high school sweetheart.  He was the lead in every school play and she had been the cheerleader who was in most of the productions at school because she was crazy pretty.  No surprise, she was all looks, and the typical blonde.

"Congrats!" she said, and she meant it.  "Can I get a glass of white wine?"

"Low end or high end?"  He asked leaning closer to her.  He propped himself up on an elbow and she got a distinct whiff of his after shave.

She smiled at him and let a sigh escape her.  "The house wine is fine," she told him.

He nodded and moved around the bar effortlessly, coming back to her with a glass of white wine that was already dripping with cold perspiration.   "So, Hannah," he grinned.  "I have been meaning to ask you something."

She took the glass from him.  "What's that?"

"Will you save me a dance?"

She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion.  "I don't follow," she told him.

"Tonight, I want one dance with you."

"Why?"

He leaned back on the bar.  "Why?"  He acted hurt by the question.  "Cuz I'm a boy, and you’re a girl, and we're both single and free, unless you started something up with Ralph that I don't know about."

Ralph, being a good friend of hers, and gay.  He was drop dead gorgeous like all the unattainable ones.   "I've tried to convince him but he just won't take a swing on my team."

"So, why not?"   Eli asked her again.

She smiled, half way.  "Are you flirting with me?"  She was starting to get those silly little butterflies in her stomach that made her want to run and hide from social situations.

"It took you this long to notice?"  He grinned.  "I've been flirting with you for weeks now."

"You flirt with everyone!" She countered.

"Yeah, but," he looked around the mostly empty bar.  He leaned in even closer to her, and whispered. "That's just for tips, I mean it with you."

The butterflies doubled.  She was slightly confused, extremely interested, and moderately terrified.  She'd been out on a few dates since everything happened with Eloise, but nothing that lasted more than one or three very awkward dates.  She tried dating sites, and couldn't seem to find anyone who wasn't just trying to get in her pants, which had been completely off limits.  Her ex-husband and her had what she referred to as "grief sex" after losing Eloise, before they truly split up.  She had spent most of it crying.  It ended up being horrible and putting a bigger spike into the heart of their relationship.

"No, really?"  She said.  "You flirt shamelessly."

He laughed.  "I know, but really... I mean it with you.  I want to dance with you tonight.  Just say yes Hannah.  One dance."

"Okay, okay," she said giving in.  She shrugged.  "Okay."

He smiled from ear to ear, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks.  She shook her head and pivoted her stool so she could see the band as it started up on stage.  Her brother Max started swinging his drum sticks to the beat of whatever song they played.  She was proud of him.  No matter what their Dad had said to him about his choices in life, he continued to just do him.  Be exactly who he was and who he wanted to be.  He was going for his dreams and she was proud of him for that.

Hours went by, she ended up moving to a table and she seat danced some while sipping on a few more drinks that she had ordered through the waitresses.  She cheered and clapped for the band.  Completely forgetting that Eli had wanted a dance.

The patrons slowly weeded themselves out.  Cabs had been called.  Family had come to fetch some of the drunk ones.  She helped clear off tables and the band break down.  Last call was thrown out there.  The lights came up, and the last few stragglers were pushed out.  She was still helping some of the girls clean up the main room.

"Toilets are clean, Eli." Dotty said coming out with a scrub brush.  She had her red hair pulled back in a tight pony tail tonight.

"Thanks Dot," he called back.  She went up to the bar with a few glasses and when she turned to leave, he put his hands on hers.  "Wait." She turned to face him, looking at him questioningly.  "I still want that dance."

"But the bar is closing Eli," she reminded him.

"That's fine, just stick around."   So she nodded and went back to fetching some more empty glasses.

Within a half hour it was only Eli and her in the bar.  The waitresses had all counted out their tips, let mostly together, laughing.  Talking about going to the all night diner and wondering if Eli was coming.  He told them, "maybe next time," and locked up behind them.  He grabbed the broom and leaned it up against the bar and walked over to the jukebox.  Sliding his hand in his pocket he pulled out a couple of quarters and dropped them in.  After pushing a couple buttons he walked over to her and held out his hand for her to take.

"Eli, really?"

He smiled.  "Really, come on Hannah Banana."

Oh she hated that.  She rolled her eyes because he was the only one who had gotten away with calling her that all through high school.  "Don't call me that," she whispered putting her hand in his and letting him pull her to him, where he pressed against her, tight.  Putting one hand against the small of her back and the other just above it.

The song came on and she instantly recognized it as one of the songs they had danced to at the first dance they attended together.  She had joked it was "their song" back then.  They actually went to a lot of dances together.  He took her to prom one year, just as a friend.  But anytime they were at a dance together, didn't matter if they had come together, with a group of friends, or with other people, anytime the song came on, he would always seek her out and pull her into a dance.

"You know I have always had this crush on you," he said as they started to sway back and forth to the ballad, barely shuffling their feet.  "Remember in Earth Science I sat right behind you?"

"Yeah, I remember, Mr. Orsaw kept making comments on how you'd give me goggly eyes, but I never took him seriously."

"You should have, it was true.  The smell of your hair drove my hormones crazy."

She leaned back a little so she could look at him, to tell if he was really serious.  "You are the one who broke up with me, need I remind you?"

"Stupid teenage mistake," he countered.  "We both dated around after that, it always seemed like if I was single, you were dating someone, and the other way around."

"Yeah, but, I always just thought we were friends."

"We were friends," he looked down at her.  He was over six foot and she was just a little thing at five feet five inches.  He was always looking down at her.  Well, unless he was sitting and she was standing.  "But I thought you just put me in the friend zone and that was that."

"You married Gia," she told him.

"You married Hank, and you were engaged before me."

She laughed.  Shook her head.  "We were just teenagers."

He nodded in agreement.  "That we were, but, we're not anymore.  We're both finally single at the same time.  And I want to ..." he trailed off.  She wasn't looking at him, so when she looked up at him to see why he stopped, he grabbed her hand, spun her around, tilted her back and pressed his lips hard against hers.

Suddenly there was electricity zinging from her head to her toes and doing funny little things to those butterflies residing her her stomach.  She opened her mouth slightly, letting out a little moan, and he took the opportunity to dive into her mouth with fierce heat.  She couldn't help but to meet his pace, kissing him back with just as much as he was giving.

When she was upright again, she was extremely light headed.  She actually ended up leaning into his chest as they started to sway again.  "Hot damn," he finally muttered after a moment of catching his breath.

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"I remember we had sparks, but I didn't realize we had an inferno."

What was she getting herself into?  She took a deep breath, smelling that smell that was just him. Always was him.  He hadn't changed his cologne or after shave since high school.  She was always drawn into his smell.  He was the only one she had ever reacted to like that.  He always had a crush on her, she had always had an unspoken crush on him.

"Remember when we did Romeo and Juliet in the school play?"

"How can I forget?  That's what started our little relationship."

"First play we did, freshman year.  I had so much trouble memorizing my lines and constantly cussed out Shakespeare."

"Who doesn't cuss out Shakespeare?"

"That first time we kissed during rehearsal, it was so awkward with Mrs. Jaspin watching and half the student body."

"It wasn't half," she laughed.  "It wasn't even half the cast!"

"But it was our first kiss and it was awkward."

"Our first kiss after we started dating wasn't." She remembered.  "Until you tried to choke me with your tongue that one time."

"You said tonsil hockey, I took you seriously."

She laughed, as he did, at the memory.  They stopped swaying as the music ended.  She looked up at him, and felt things she hadn't in a long long time.  Things that scared her.  She didn't want to be some re-bound.  She didn't want him to be some re-bound.  He spun her one more time, and then let go of his embrace on her.

She smiled at him.  "That was nice," she said.  Nice?  Nice?  That's all you can think to say is nice?  But then again, she felt like she couldn't, shouldn't, encourage this.  She was twenty five years old.  Divorced.  He was divorced.  Just divorced.  "I should go home," she told him.  She glanced back, seeing him stuff his hands in his pockets.  He looked a little disappointed.  "It's almost three in the morning," she reminded him.  "I have this huge photo shoot around 1," she muttered, basically rambling a bit.  "How about we get some lunch, or dinner together.  We can talk." She offered.

He looked up, didn't look so disappointed anymore.  "I'd like that," he said.  He was closing the distance between them.  She knew what was going to happen next.   She turned to grab her coat off the stool she had put it on.  He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.  His lips crashed so hard against hers she was sure they would be bruised in the morning.  Oh wait, it was morning, she reminded herself.  Then, her mind when utterly blank because the only thing her brain was even responding to was the sparks of heat flying everywhere.

When he stepped back a minute, she knew she was going to have to fly out the door.  Fly out the door and not look back or it would keep happening.  At the door, at the car, on the hood......

She shook her head.  "Goodnight Eli," she managed a horse whisper.  "Stay there," she warned.  "We are likely to implode."

She went up the door, fumbled forgetting it was locked for a moment.  When Eli started to take a step towards her, she held up her finger and made a short sound telling him to stop.  He did, stop that is.  She managed to unlock it.  "Call me tomorrow," she whispered before opening the door to the cold harsh wind.   She let it go after she walked through it, and all but jogged to her car.

She couldn't wait to get inside, to safety.  To warmth, in about five minutes anyway.  To at least get out of the wind.  Get out of the bar.  Get some distance between her and the man who was making her hormones dance around like a pubescent teenager.  She got in, closed the door quickly and started her car.  It roared to life as she looked back.  Seeing him silhouette the doorway, watching her, watch him.

She threw the car into reverse, backed up a bit, and then into drive.  She drove home numb.  She couldn't even form a rational thought.  How could she?  He turned her brain to mush.  She was surprised she made it home in once piece.

She jumped out of her car, after putting it in park and turning it off.  She practically ran to her door, fumbled getting the front door unlocked, and when she did she flew inside, locking it quickly behind her, as if he was going to burst through the door.   Her back to the door, she just sort of slide down it until she was sitting on the cold tile floor with the rug all messed up under her.

The cat slowly walked towards her with her little bell ring-a-ding-dinging and her tail standing straight up like she's some royal animal prissy pants.  She stopped right beside her and started to purr.

She gave the cat the eyes.  "Don't judge me," she muttered.  Pushing herself up, she ditched her coat on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and she walked up the stairs, into her room, and fell into bed.  She didn't even bother getting undressed, she just plopped belly down on her bed, cockeyed ... and was sound asleep in two minutes, with the cat on her back - kneading and purring.

Goal for the next 30 Days....

I have been making it a point to write in my main blog since the beginning of the year, and so far - so good.  Actually - it's the most I've written in ANY year since starting my blog.  I have more entries for this year than any other year, and it's only April.  

But - that's just life writing.  Recording my days, feelings, etc and so on.  Truly - very boring crap.  

So ..... for the next 30 days ..... today (April 13th) to May 13th (funny, Nathan's due date anniversary) .... I am going to be making it a point to doing short little bursts of writing in here with writing prompts .... OR .... and.... working on finishing my book.  I want it finished.  NEED it finished.  

(re-worked)

Prologue

            The house was dark and dingy.  It was kept tidy but the walls were dark, no longer bright and vibrant like they were when she was little. They didn't have much stuff, anyway, to keep clean. The carpets were worn down from foot traffic, with stains here and there.  The windows had layers of filth on them, blocking out the sun some.  She slowly stepped down the stairs, being sure not to step on any of the sweet spots that would alert her father or brother she was coming down the stairs.  She knew they were up to something.  Something bad.  Not that they ever did something good.  They claimed she was the bad one.  The dirty whore.  The unwanted bitch.  Anything that they could throw from their tongue that they thought would hurt her.  It never did, though.  She was used to it. 

            As careful as she was being, she hit a squeaky board.  Stopping, she frozen in the position she was in, and held her breath, waited, and listened to see if she had alerted them.

When she was little, she dreaded leaving her school.  Most kids couldn't wait for that three o’clock bell to ring.  She hated it.  Life at home, it wasn't easy.  Her father was a drunk and her mother was weak, all she did was do whatever her father told her to do.   At the age of six, she learned what a blow job was because her father told her mother to do it in front of her.  He hadn't cared, nor had the woman who was supposed to be a mother to her. 

            She spent years locked up in her room, with the lock on the hallway side of the door.  Trapped.  She had a mattress on the floor, some toys her grandparents had given her.  A few books, which she had read over and over again.  She liked getting lost in the worlds of Little Women and The Secret Garden.  Her grandmother on her mom’s side had sent her the Anne of Green Gables series, and those were her favorite books.  Especially since she could identify with Anne. 

            In grade school she was expected home immediately.  When she got home, she would get shoved into her room and pushed down.  The door would slam shut behind her and the echo of the metallic click of the lock would echo through the room. They would bring her a plate to eat at some point, usually it was cold. 

In middle school, she was allowed to join after school programs or sports, her parents didn’t want to draw attention to their family, they felt if she was active after school she would appear more normal.  So she joined the Track team and Photography Club.   That allowed her to be home a lot less, so she took every opportunity not to be home.  It was then that the beatings started.  He’d hit her … places people were less likely to see, and he enjoyed it.  He loved it. 

            Her brother was treated completely different.  He was only a year older than she was, but he was treated like the prodigal prince.  He did anything their father said, and was twisted like he was.

            In high school she continued with both clubs.  They no longer locked her in her room because she didn’t leave her room, she preferred to be as far away from her family as she could.  At school she noticed her brother was constantly watching her.  Then one night her door opened, and he came in.  He had just taken a shower and was only in a towel.  Her gut twisted inside her, as if to warn her she’d never be the same.  He let the towel drop.  When she screamed, she thought she could hear her father laughing from the hallway.  He had come to her all through her freshman year.  Then it stopped when he got a girlfriend.  She knew that he abused the girlfriend, and she knew it was bad that she was thankful his attention was off her. 

            During her sophomore year, her mother disappeared.  One weekend there was an out of town track meet and she had been allowed to stay with a friend, she had come home and been told her mother ran away.  Several months later, her brother’s girlfriend disappeared.  The police kept showing up, dragging her father and brother down to the police station to question them.

            Then she noticed there was more and more woman going missing around town, her Dad and brother were spending less time at home and when they were home they were usually in the basement.   In her gut, she knew.  But she had to be sure. 

            It didn't seem like the squeak had gotten their attention.  She wasn't sure where they were.  So she knew she had to be sneaky. 

            She allowed herself to breathe again and continued down the stairs.  She tip toed through the living room and into the kitchen.  That’s when she heard them coming up the stairs from the basement, talking.  She hit in the little nitch the pantry in the kitchen made.  A tiny box the walls made.

            “What are you going to do about her?”  It was her brother’s husky voice.  You could hear the anger dripping from every word.  Anything coming out of his mouth had rage dripping from it. 

            “Well, we do what we do with them all.”  Her dad growled.  Neither of them knew how to talk.  They both sounded completely uneducated. 

            “What about the parasite upstairs?  When are we going to take care of her?”

            “Soon,” her father said as they opened the back door.  “Can’t do it too soon, they’ll look at us cuz of your mother and Vicky.”  Her heart dropped.  This confirmed it for her.  They had been involved with the disappearance of her mom and her brother’s girlfriend. 

            “I want to do her,” her brother said, she could almost see the disgusting smile spread across his face with the thought, like the Joker in Batman.  “I want to watch her bleed while I am inside her.”

            Her dad laughed and the back door shut.  She soon heard the roar of the run down, beat up car they had.  They were leaving. 

            She sighed, in relief.  She moved quickly through the small kitchen, through the mess they had created, making her way to the basement steps which were by the back door. She expected they would soon go to her room, drag her down by her hair, as they had done before, and demanded she clean up after them.  She wasn't allowed to eat with them, she got scraps when they were done, if she was lucky.  There were days she didn't eat at all.

            She went down the stairs and saw they had added a lock to the door.  She panicked for a moment.  Then looked around.  On the window sill was a key.  She grabbed it and prayed it opened it.  When the lock clicked, she took a deep breath and opened the door. 

            The smell is what she was met with first.  It was horrible, and she had grabbed the top of her shirt, and covered her mouth and nose with it.  Then she flipped on the light, and saw blood.  So much blood.  There was a woman in a cage, tied up and gagged, she didn’t respond to the light.  Her eyes stayed shut and she was slumped over in the corner of the cage. 

            She almost vomited.  So many thoughts rushed through her head.  She knew … she knew what she had to do.  She shut off the light, shut the door and put the lock back on.  She ran up the stairs and practically jumped on the kitchen counters, causing dishes to clang to the floor, to find the coffee can her mom use to hide money in, hoping and praying it was still there.  She reached up and patted the top of the cupboards around, because she couldn't see, praying she’d find the metal can.  When her finger tips touched it, she struggled to get a grasp on it.  When she did, she grabbed the can, pulling it out as quickly as she could.  She paused long enough to pull the plastic cover up to see if there was money in there, and when she saw there was, she closed it and ran through the house and up the stairs.  She grabbed her backpack, throwing a few things in there, threw the can in there.  She turned the radio on that they allowed her to have, and stuffed anything she could find under her blanket on the mattress making it look like she was laying under the covers.  She looked around her room.  One last time.  When her eyes rested on the blue teddy bear her grandmother had sent her, the last thing she had ever gotten from her, she grabbed it and opened the bag one last time and closed it again. 

            Her heart was racing so hard she thought it was going to jump out of her chest.  She turned off the light, slammed her bedroom door and ran out of the house.  She didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something.  She had to … she could hear the car coming down the street.  She ducked into a bush and watched them pull into the driveway and to the back of the house.  She stayed there until she knew they had gone in.

            She had to save herself.  She had to try to save that woman if she wasn't already dead.  

            It was only then that she ran.  She ran like her life depended on it, because it did.  She ran to her friend’s house where she broke down crying, sobbing, and telling her frightened parents everything.  Every dirty rotten secret she held in her heart.  Everything she saw.  Everything she knew in her bones.  Her father and brother were murderers.  They killed her mother, and all the women on the news.  She knew it.