Pretty Penny Pt. 1: A Halloween Tale

This is my favorite season. The turning of the leaves. Halloween. Scary movies. The color of the world. For about a month it stays this way and then it turns to winter.

Pretty Penny (Part 1)

A light rain fell as the clouds began to part. Thomas loved the smell of dirt and rain. He could just see the glimmering moon as it came over the horizon. From his front porch he could hear two sounds clearly. The first did little to bother him. It was the sound of an owl hooting. The second sound ... well, the second sound sent a cold shiver down his spine.
"There it is again," he told his friend, Billy Larue.
"I heard it!" Billy whispered.
They quickly jumped off the porch and wheeled their bikes out onto the wet asphalt of Madison Street. There they waited.
While darkness slowly engulfed the last bit of day, Thomas could hear the reverberating sound of thunder as the storm moved east, streaks of lightning following it. The shrill, ominous sound pierced the silence once again and the boys jumped.
Billy buried his head in his hoody and pointed down the road toward Lexington Street. In unison the boys pedaled to the corner and stopped. For a full minute neither of them spoke. Thomas was about to open his mouth when they heard the sound again.
"Geez," Billy said, "What is that?"
Even before Thomas could answer they were pedaling again. They headed west toward 10th Street. This time neither of them stopped when they neared the next block. They crossed 9th and kept going. "One more?" they both said at the same time. Nearing 8th, they slowed down. A street light buzzed and flickered on. A glow of halogen slowly lit the street and they suddenly felt exposed. Thomas and Billy coasted under a canopy of maple trees and waited.
"It sounded like a lady." Billy whispered.
"It sounded like a tortured lady," Thomas added.
"It sounded like a tortured lady being tortured." Billy said.
Thomas looked at Billy and leaned in closer, as if he had something very important he wanted to say.
"What?" Billy asked.
"Do you know how stupid that sounded?" They both belted out laughing. Their laughter bounced off the night and seemed to echo down the street going nowhere. 
"What's going on?" A voice from behind them made them jump. Billy Larue turned and looked toward the voice.
Molly Carver stood behind them staring at the night. Her long black hair lifted off her shoulders just as a gust of wind came swirling down the street.
"Wow! You look awesome," Billy said, to the eighth grader.
Molly glanced at the boy and then at herself. She frowned. "I'm not even dressed up, you punk."
"Oh," he said, realizing the mistake he made seeing her in her goth like - I'm not Goth - look. "How incredibly stupid of me." He wanted to say. Instead, he muttered, "What are you doing?"
"I've lost Pretty Penny."
"Excuse me?" The two boys said.
"My dog, Pretty Penny. I've lost her."
Just then the night filled with a screech and the three of them looked at one another..
"What is that?" Molly raised her voice.
"I thought it was a woman," Thomas said, "Now I'm not so sure. It almost sounds like an animal."
"Oh please tell me that's not, Pretty Penny." Molly whispered.
"I don't know what it is, but we're trying to find it." Thomas said, "What does your dog look like?"
"Pretty's like this," Molly moved her hands around to form her shape the best that she knew how, "And, so tall. She wears a purple scarf."
"I know that dog," Billy smiled, "It's a pug."
"Pretty Penny," Molly nodded.
"We'll find her." The two boys, said. Together, they rode their bikes to Kensington Ave. 

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

Random Weekend Shots

A Real Live Pumpkin Head

Girls being crazy

Going into Hibernation

Girls rock climbing in sandals

Lois waiting for girls to tumble off of big rock

 

Snow and Autumn

My Beautiful family

The Dark Night.

The warrior looked at the woman and grimaced. He could not quite understand why she smiled at him. Her face was grotesque and it almost sickened him to look at the protrusion that stuck out on her face between her eyes. It had to be three inches long and there was some sort of lump on it. He wanted to use his laser sword that he carried on his side to remove it. It would only take him a moment, he thought. And that tall black thing she wore on her head was very strange to look at. The pointy thing hung down like it was some kind of animal and it moved every time she cackled. He saw no function for it. These creatures were so primitive.
Now she was holding a large orange object in her hands and when she set it down on the ground she reached inside of it and used something to start a fire. He did not understand how she did it. The fire seemed to jump out of a magic box. That device could prove to be functional. When he returned this way he would stop by and remove it from her hand. He was itching to use his laser. But for now he was only here to observe.
As darkness started moving across the sky he began to see them. They were everywhere. They looked like bugs crawling out of nowhere in masses. High shrill voices made him grab his ear. They were small creatures but they were different from the woman. He almost recognized some of them. But he couldn't understand how these creatures came to be grouped together. It was as if they were in alliance with each other. He had not expected this. All of them carried some sort of satchel with them and they all traveled from one lodge to another chanting the very same thing.
He stood by the corner of a lodge and watched as a group of creatures went to the doorway. In unison they screamed those same words when the door opened.
"Trick or Treat, Give me something good to eat."
It was the same thing every time and more creatures would line up behind them screaming similar words. The people inside their lodge would fill their satchels and the creatures would run into the night.
Suddenly the warrior became tense. He had never seen such a thing in his life. Somehow these creatures made him tremble for his life.
He saw more of those women; only they were a smaller breed. They all had that same protrusion hanging between their eyes. There were furry covered animals and there were men in black capes with very sharp teeth. Some of them said, "I've come to suck your blood".
There was no way his clan could wage war on this planet. The way these creatures moved together showed a sense of unity unparalleled to his planet. And the awful shrieking noise they made hurt his ear. He suddenly found himself walking in the shadows under the cover of darkness. He didn't want them to notice him. Again he heard the chanting as he passed by their lodges.
"Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet, Give me something Good to Eat!"
This was just unbelievable. They wanted food and it seemed as if you didn't abide with their demands you would have to smell their feet. He gagged as the thought occurred to him. They were all sick from disease or something. There were more creatures now. Tiny looking nymphs and angelic creatures. Robotic automatons. There were walking dead things. He would die before he smelled their feet.
"Trick or Treat!" The chanting came from the lodge behind him. He turned to look and he saw that more orange things lit up the night. They all seemed to have eyes that flickered. This was like a ceremony. There would be blood tonight. Lots and lots of blood.
The warrior was done scouting this particular pathway. He'd already seen hundreds of soldiers racing through the night and he wondered how many had already been forced to smell feet. He wondered what kind of gifts were thrown into the satchels to ward off these demonic looking creatures and how much blood had been spilled for not obeying.
"Trick or Treat!"
The warrior grabbed his ear and turned to see a small creature standing below him. It had little wings that came out of its back that appeared transparent.
"I'm a fairy." The creature said, in a quiet voice.
The warrior placed his hands over both his mouths and ran down the street snorting. His snout flung from side to side as he raced to the field where his ship was hidden. He didn't want to call attention to himself. He just wanted to leave.
There would be no battle here. They would look further.
Earth was a scary place.

By Beaux Kyle 
© 2009

The Mile

Billy Larue rushed up to his bedroom window. Grabbing the cuff of his shirt sleeve, he rubbed away the condensation and peered outside. He could just now begin to see the full moon rising, silhouetted by the maple trees as the last of the autumn leaves lightly fell. They slowly floated to the ground before they came to rest on the dew-covered lawn. Dying they were, he thought. He desperately wanted to go outside and play in them one last time, before winter claimed them. But he knew it was already too late. They had already begun to wither once they had touched the ground -- death decaying.

Remembering then why he had come upstairs, he half jumped and half climbed up onto his bed. And sitting there, he waited. Soon the sound of wood hitting wood made soft thumping noises out in the hallway. The woman made a low gutteral noise as she entered the room. Almost, he thought, like an animal. Setting her cane aside, she smiled at him and held out her long flailing arm.

"Here, Grandma," he half whispered.

"I'm too old for those stairs," she laughed.

"Never," he said, "Just take two at a time and be done with them."

"Oh world," she said, "Two stairs! I'd certainly be done with them then."

"Here," Billy said, holding out his hands, "Right here I am."

"I see you," she chuckled. "Now give me those bandages. We'll have to hurry; it's almost dark."

"How do you know when it's dark, Gram? You're blind."

"Oh, well ... that's my secret now, isn't it?" she said.

"Well I suppose..."

"Give me your hand -- the one you'll use."

"This one I'll use." Billy said, giving her his left.

"Let's begin then." she said.

Twenty minutes later Billy was standing in front of his mirror admiring himself. "The best ever!" he said.

"Let me see," his grandma said. Reaching out, she found his wrist and slowly started patting down the young boy's torso. Yards of bandages covered Billy's upper body. "The best ever!" he said again.

"How are your legs?" she asked.

"Perfect," Billy replied. "But how?"

"Pins and needles," she said, "That's why you'll walk like this."

She stumbled forward with her arms held out, imitating a mummy. They both laughed.

"You didn't," he said, "Nary a one. I was watching you."

"Another secret." she said, "Just a grandma's touch."

"Will you go with me this year?" the boy pleaded.

"You don't need an Old Witch walking you around." She started, "This cane of mine has seen too many miles already. Besides, you and Bessie will be alone this year. It's time. Somebody's got to light The Mile."

Billy walked over to his window. From the second floor of the house he could see the faint outline of the old rickety fence that skirted the property. Letting his eyes follow the driveway to the very end, he could barely see the gate. It was as tall as the cornstalks that lined the road. And, it was exactly one mile from the house to the gate. Along the driveway, Billy could see the jack-o-lanterns that they had placed there three days ago. There were over a hundred of them.

"We've got to hurry!" he said, turning to his grandma, "It's almost time."

"Go get your sister, then." she said, "But don't forget these."

The room had darkened considerably, and only the wick of one flickering candle danced in the twilight. The old woman's hands seemed to disappear into the folds of her dress and then they reappeared with a box. Just like magic, he thought.

She handed him the box and then smiled. "Go now then," she whispered.

Billy seemed to vanish from the place he once stood. Candlelight bounced off the walls and he was gone. His footsteps could be heard as he took to the stairs. Yelling over his shoulder he said, "Thank you, Grandma."

Outside in the courtyard, Bessie danced with excitement. The night was warm but the wind had picked up since the afternoon. There was a storm coming. "Hurry Billy!" she cried out anxiously.

"I am," he said. Carefully holding the box that Grandma Mabel had given him. Every motion was almost reverent.

The moonlight shined down on the silver clasp of the box as he unsnapped it. Inside were two candles and a single wooden matchstick. One match, he thought to himself. What if it takes two? He gave the box to Bessie and he let his mind wander as he summoned up his nerve to strike the single stick. Bessie looked at him with wild anticipation. She held out one of the candles and waited.

An eerie howl swept across the cornfields and they both turned to look at the horizon. Lightening flashed in the far distance. The storm was moving away from them toward Barrow County.

"Now," he whispered. Bessie leaned in close with one hand cupped around one of the candles as Billy struck the matchhead against a stone that lay on the ground. Fire lit up and briefly danced and then the flame disappeared.

"No!" they both screamed. And as they stopped to look at each other, the matchhead jumped again and a tiny spark lit the other side of the matchstick. The two held their breath as they leaned in close to light the candle Bessie held in her hands.

"Now the other," Billy said. Bessie's hand disappeared into the long black cape that she wore and then reappeared holding the other candle. Just like Grandma, he thought.

Lighting the other candle, the two flames jumped in the night as they quickly moved from jack-o-lantern to jack-o-lantern, bringing life to the haunted house behind them. They turned to see Grandma Mabel standing in the doorway, waiting for them to finish.

One by one the jack-o-lanterns came to life. Ghouls and goblins shined through the hollowed out pumpkins. Images of Dracula and Frankenstein danced in the night among witches and warlocks. When they had finished, they stood at the gate. The first Treaters had arrived. Billy unlocked the wrought iron gate and he and Bessie slowly pushed them open.

"Trick or Treat," the first guest said. And they all ran down The Mile toward the old haunted house, back from where Billy and Bessie had just come.


By Beaux Kyle
© 2008

The Monkey on my Back

Our first child was born on a full moon on Washington's birthday. It was eight months, eight days and eight hours later - as a new moon approached - when my mom came over to our house very excited. It was the day before Halloween. She had in her hand a shopping bag that I wish I'd never seen. It was our daughter's first halloween costume. The memory of that moment will never leave my head and it is perhaps the first time I have ever seen one gesture make one woman so happy, while it made another one so mad. For my wife, dressing our daughter up in her first halloween costume would have been tantamount to her first birthday. And for my mom - the grandma - she didn't realize that she had just crossed a very sensitive line. And for me - what was about to happen, was just true horror. I think my wife really wanted to cry. It was our first halloween and my wife had her heart set on an angel, and in the shopping bag was a red felt 'daddy's little devil' costume. You could almost feel electricity flowing through the room. And was that the sound of thunder? It was one of our families first dilemmas I would ever be caught in...and it was between my wife and my mom.

...

While I was going through the garage the other day pulling out Halloween decorations, I replayed that memory over again as I do almost every year. Only this year I found myself faced with another dilemma. This year it was between both of my daughters.The girls have chosen their costumes each year now for several years. Ever since they were old enough to make up their own minds about what they wanted to be. They have been the witch or princess or fairy or lady bug or cat or dog, and they have always liked what they have chosen. But this year they started getting a little creative. And maybe creative isn't even the right word. Maybe it was that they thought they were being creative when this idea came around: I know! Let's wear what dad wore two years ago for Halloween when he was the flying monkey! And here I have to admit, the costume was pretty good. Rather than buy the actual Flying Monkey costume for $70.00 dollars. I was going to save some money and piece together my own costume and save some money. As it turned out I ended up spending over $80.00 dollars. But my costume was an original and I fit in great with some of my co-workers who also put a lot of thought into their OZ-themed costumes. So anyway, when the oldest asked about the monkey I knew something more was coming. And I had already heard some quiet conversations about the monkey on more than two different occasions.

"Dad," she asked, "Can I be the Flying Monkey this year?"

"What about your sister?" I asked. "What does she want to be?"

Oh, I think she wants to be the monkey too."

"Well," I said, "Since you asked first I guess that only seems fair."

And that was it. I talked to my other daughter and she was okay with the decision I had made. But my heart and my stomach felt like it did 11 years ago:
WHAT - DO - I - DO - ? Back then it was much harder. My daughter ended up going as 'Daddy's little devil' and I probably broke my wife's heart. And the following year when grandma showed up with Ronald McDonald I had to draw a line. This year I think I should get together with the youngest and think up something kind of clever.

SOME THINGS WE SAW TODAY

For several weeks our family has been running all over town looking for interesting things to do. Everything has been play it by ear'. Whatever that means. And I know it doesn't mean, 'Let's just see what happens'. There's always a plan. So when my wife mentioned one Sunday morning that there was a treasure hunt going on downtown, and that "Hmm, that might be a fun thing to do," I knew that was the plan. Thinking over the options of what we could do on this second day of Fall, which was either to stay at home & clean the house because relatives are coming or go on a treasure hunt, I chose the latter. Like most times when we leave the house, we all go our separate ways to take care of last minute business before we meet at the car. I always hop in the shower, the girls feed and water the animals and the wife gets online. I don't know why.

Anyway, it always takes us less than 30 minutes, unless somebody is outside spraying down the garden. That might add a few more minutes. And then we're off. Now it usually takes some time to get from point A to point B, because suddenly we are all saying, "Hey, we never did this," or "We never did that," and then the famous "I'm hungry!" chorus starts circling around the car. So, after food, we're off. And like every weekend, our sense of time starts to get away from us.

Like last weekend we decided to go to Park City. A drive which would generally take us about a half hour ended up taking us about three. Why? Because on our way out of town we passed by a big 'Close Out Sale'. But I'm not complaining about this because I got stuff and then we got food.

So, we're going on this treasure hunt and my wife starts explaining the rules. And she's rattling off everything we need to do, like where it's at and what we're looking for and I'm thinking it almost sounds like she's a little too familiar with these rules. So I inquire and I get this, "Well, it's my work and they've been doing this for 16 years and we can't enter because I work there, but hey, it'll be fun."

So I'm sitting there taking that all in and all I can think of is: There's no prize? 16 years? Why didn't I know about this before? We've been married for 12 years and this was the first time I'd ever heard about an annual treasure hunt from her work. I love a good treasure hunt as much as I love Halloween. And before I can think of anything else to say we're downtown and my wife yells out, "There's one!" And any thoughts I might of had before were gone. Poof. The 20 items we were looking for just got knocked down to 19 and less than five minutes later we had 18, and then 17.

After fifteen minutes of driving around we finally decided to get out of the car and split up. There were five of us because our girls had invited the neighborhood girl. Splitting up sounded like a good plan, but it didn't really work out to anyone's advantage. The girls all wanted to go by themselves, but we weren't about to leave an 9-, 10- and 11- year old alone to run around downtown by themselves. I don't care whether they all have their purple belts or not. So the girls go one way and I go another. And not too much later my youngest is calling me trying to explain to me what mom wants and where I should go. First off, my youngest is 10 years old and she doesn't even know where she's at. She just knows we're downtown by mom's work. And she's trying to give me directions where to go. So I look over my shoulder to where she's standing in the middle of the square and she's waving her hand and pointing out directions like I might actually be able to see her. (Which in this case I could.) And I'm thinking we were actually almost thinking of letting them run around by themselves. But my big question was why didn't my wife just call me and tell me exactly where they were.

Anyway, that was two weeks ago and I was just wondering what we were going to do today when my wife just called and said, "We're just thinking of going on a little jaunt. Want to come?"

THESE ARE SOME OF THE THINGS WE SAW TODAY...

(Button)



(Trouble)

(Just miles from home)

(Who's the Boss)

(What???)

Hero's

I have been thinking a lot about life and death lately, and all the people I love and miss. Right now I really miss my mom. She died a few years ago from cancer. The whole process was difficult on all of us. Lois and I did home hospice for her in the middle of our living room. Her bed sat in the corner away from the front door. An oxygen machine rested near one wall; it had become a part of the décor. There was an IV stand next to her nightstand and a suction pump under her bed. Bags of liquid dispersed their magical formulas. This one is medicine. This one is food. This one gets flushed down the drain. A mass of transparent tubing was tangled beneath her bed like co-axial cables behind the entertainment center. Each one served a different function. Each had a different route – in & out. IN & OUT... I have never talked about this. That would be too hard. Occasionally Lois will ask me something that goes like this: Do you remember the time when your mom was sick and she was in our living room…adding a context to the subject. I would then mumble a reply reflectively thinking back to those days.
I remember when Halloween came, we joked about the sick old lady in the corner of the room who struggled to sit up every time the doorbell rang so that she could look at all the costumes. Talking to the ghouls and goblins, she would ask them to come over so that she could see them. Without her false teeth she must have sounded like Margaret Hamilton from The Wizard of Oz screaming, "Come here my little pretty, and bring your dog Toto too." Because we lived in multi-level home, it was the only place that made sense to turn into a hospital zone. We recruited Lois' brother David to help us out when we were away at work. He graciously gave up all of his time and came to help immediately. Never once did he show a hint of emotion that resembled complaint or grumbling. It was all a labor of love. I never thanked him for that. Toward the very end, my brother-in-law became my mom's best friend, and I never thanked him for that.
Looking back, my memory is cloudy. I remember the constant heparin flushes and the TPN. I remember the awful noise that the suction pump made. It was a constant reminder screaming, "No good will come from this". Later that proved to be true. Later there would be the phone call and the racing home. Later there would be the ambulance.
My mom was a fascinating woman who led an interesting life. She lived through Nazi Germany and survived. She would rarely talk about it, but when she did she was very somber. You could actually feel the mood of the room change and you had to lean in to hear what she was saying. If you knew my mom than you would know that you never had to lean in to hear what she was saying.
Germany broke her heart. I can picture her crossing the war torn country as she made her way through the Black Forest. I can picture this pale skinny child as she's being tossed over the fence of a concentration camp to steal food. The few memories my mom shared with Lois and I amazed us, but you could tell by the look on her face that they haunted her. She would begin to talk, only to stop and grimace, most of the time never finishing what she began. Before I ever understood what scars were – the ones of the heart – I knew she wore them. They were the lines in her face or the look in her eyes. They are some of my earliest memories. Mom hurts. I would not understand why until years later. By then it was too late. The doors had closed. The sharing of past was over. Drudging up old memories was not her style. She would give me that…"Oh Henry, now why do you want to talk about that" look and move on.
My mom was my hero. She was one of the strongest people I ever knew. In our living room, the weeks had turned into months. At days end we'd gather together, thick as thieves. Reliving the day's events, or talking about old ones. Our daughters wandered about oblivious to what was going on. Grandma's sick was all they knew. The oldest – my mom's pride and joy – had taken to shying away. It was one of those pangs too hard to bear. I winced every time I saw it. "It's all the tubes," my mom would say. And it was.
After the ambulance ride, my mom would spend the rest of her days in the hospital. Our daily living room routine had been reduced to hourly visits on our days off and after work. For weeks this went on. One night Lois picked me up after work. Instead of going to the hospital like we normally did, my mom told me over the phone to go home and get some rest. I could visit over the weekend.
The phone call came early the following morning. My heart sank as the nurse explained to me who she was and why she was calling. All I really got out of it was 'come quick' or 'hurry'. Something to that effect.
When I got to the hospital my mom was unconscious. Her condition had changed during the night. I went in and held her hand. There was no response. The doctors told me her body was shutting down. The best thing we could do was make her comfortable. I wanted to know if she was going to wake up. I was told that she wouldn't. It never occurred to me that I would never be able to talk to my mom again. The thought had never crossed my mind. This moment - the one we knew was inevitable - had finally come, and I was unprepared.
Lois had dropped me off at the hospital. She was on her way to the airport because she was heading to Vegas to cover a story. Without knowing what waited inside, I told her to go. Weeks of planning had already gone in to this trip. Whatever was going on could wait. She would be back in five days.
Thirty minutes later Lois called me from the airport. Thirty minutes later she was at my side. For the next 18 hours that's where she stayed, by my side.
My mom was the strongest and bravest person I ever knew. She was a rock. From the moment she found out that she had cancer, her worry was for me. She didn't want to see me get hurt. When she went through chemo and her hair started falling out, she'd run out of the room to get sick and then apologize for doing it. She would actually come back into the room and ask if I was alright.
My mom was amazing and my mom is my hero.