Monday, October 29, 2012

Tuesday Tales - Ghost

Tuesday Tales

Welcome back! This week we have the thrilling conclusion of ‘The Foggy Creek Hellhound’. This is a PG-13 tale.

The word prompt for this week is ‘Ghost’ so the story will reflect the prompt in some manner. As these are original stories written in a week, some errors may be found. I do apologize for those in advance. Try not to let them boggle you down though if possible.

Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thank you for stopping in!

The Foggy Creek Hellhound


I paused at the tree line, listening….

Some joker reached out and yanked me from the last bit of mowed yard in Foggy Creek. I screamed like a banshee. Gerard pulled me in and kissed me into silence. I couldn`t say which smell was more appealing: fallen leaves in a wooded glen or Gerard. Eventually this kissing whenever we felt like it was going to have to stop. We`d both get our butts fired if the brass found out. But the big heads weren`t here, now were they? I kissed him back, even going so far as to lift one damp sneaker in the air like a true coquette.

“I think I feel another screech coming on,” I whispered when our lips parted. I heard the man inhale to respond. Something stepped on a twig not ten feet from us. We both turned into statues.

“Okay, look over my shoulder and tell me if Sasquatch is standing behind me,” Gerard sounded as if he was speaking without moving his lips. I shifted my head slowly to the left, keeping my hands behind his neck. It was too dark to see your hand in front of your face let alone a Bigfoot behind your cameraman.

“I don`t see anything.” I slid from his arms as my heart tried to break out of my ribs. His exhalation blew a few strands of hair from my cheeks.

“You need to keep your hands off me, woman,” the man announced then turned to face the deep dark woods. “You`ll end up getting us killed.”

I had a really tart comeback on the tip of my tongue. It fizzled like flat soda water when another branch broke in two. I slammed both hands into the middle of Gerard`s back and shoved. He balked like a mule. I felt like a little tug boat pushing on the USS Lots a Muscle. Finally he got himself lurched to the side enough that I stumbled forward. We had a fine couple of rounds of circling each other. Finally I stamped my foot to the ground like a petulant child.

“Stop trying to make me go first! You`re the man. You`re supposed to go first in dangerous situations!” I hissed. I wished I could see him better. The moonlight was nothing more than thin shafts of white light dancing over the forest floor.

“Haven`t we had this conversation before?” Gerard asked. “Just because I have a – one of them – I have to go first, pick up all the heavy shit that you don`t want to, and kill anything that scares you? Who the hell makes up all these rules?”

“Women,” I replied.


“Okay, let`s walk side by side. This way it`s fair.”

“See, that`s all I`m asking,” the man grumbled as we started hiking deeper into the forest. “You women say you want equal rights then make us men step on mice in our slippers. I don`t see what`s so equal about that. Slapping around with mouse juice on the bottom of your slipper and….”

“Are you about done?” I asked to the side.

“Maybe,” he huffed, his camera bolstered on his shoulder and his hand now wrapped around mine.

“I`ve never asked you to step on a mouse,” I whispered, reaching out blindly to find any low branches. A thin one met my palm and bent away with ease.

“Only because the situation hasn`t presented itself yet. Just wait, you will, and I`ll tell you to go step on your own damn mouse.”

My, someone had his gender up! I opted to let his mood bubble away until it was gone. Like a pan of water on a high flame eventually his pot would be dry. We got another twenty yards into the forest and I stopped walking. Gerard pulled up as well.

“Let`s get the camera rolling. I think if we take the viewers along it will add to the suspense, sort of like the Blair Witch Trials.”

He mulled that over for a moment and then the light flared to life. My pupils went into shock. When I could see again I blinked watery eyes at the camera pointed down at me.

“We`re back,” I said in a hushed tone. “We are now deep in the wilds of Maine, moving in the same direction that the hellhound of Foggy Creek went,” I spoke softly and began to step carefully forward. Gerard had to stay a step behind for a decent camera angle.

A screech owl screamed off in the distance. A small rodent ran though the heavy leaf litter. I heard my pulse pounding in my ears. Gerard was dragging his left leg slightly. I was wondering if he had hurt his bad knee worse than he had let on when a huge form appeared in front of us. My mouth turned into the Sahara. Despite all his protestations Gerard stepped in front of me, camera angle forgotten, as a menacing growl reverberated through the woods.

“Take the camera,” Gerard said. I did as bid, reaching up to lift the Hitachi from him then settle it to my own shoulder. “If this thing kills me, run like hell, Maggie,” he added then sprinted at the canine. His name, followed by a loud ‘NO!’ rushed from me. I kept the camera pointed at the tackle the former Pitt star completed, only because I had to make sure he didn`t get mangled. The hellhound cursed as he and Gerard rolled through the Maine woods.

“Viewers, I think we may have a fraud on our hands,” I commented, walking towards the ghost who was wheezing and kicking uselessly at the large man sitting on his back. “Nice take down, Gerard. The NFL lost a hell of a player but KBNY gained one great cameraman,” I smiled. Gerard turned his head to grin at the camera. My belly grew all warm and tingly as did a few other feminine areas.

“Think we should find out who this is?” Gerard asked, dragging out the suspense for the viewers at home. “I`m not sure,” he winked, winning a million female hearts, “But I`m guessing our ghost isn`t so supernatural after all.”

“Yeah, let`s end this fake haunting,” I stated, stepping back to get a nice wide shot of the reveal. Gerard slapped his hand between the hellhound’s ears and tugged. The mask flew off to reveal a middle-aged man with mottled cheeks and thinning dark hair.

“This is where you gasp and say the dude`s name,” Gerard teased. I wanted to flip him off so badly.

“Get off me you stupid flatlander!” the man began to flail once more. Gerard took his old sweet time getting to his feet. “Damned miserable leaf peepers! Coming up here and making trash all over the place. Go back to the city you dirty mongrels!” the irate man stalked off the way we had come, minus the top of his werewolf costume. I followed his exit until he was lost in the darkness. I turned to find Gerard and zoomed in on him picking bits of dead leaf and twigs from his hair. Gerard peeked at the camera, his mouth twitching at the corners.

“Go ahead and say it,” I sighed.

“He would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn`t for that nosy reporter and her darned cameraman.” Gerard broke into laugher so rich he couldn`t breathe properly. I turned the camera to face me.

“And that is what we here on PPI do; bring you the truth about the supernatural. I`m Maggie Owens, and until next week, may the only spirits you encounter be in a shot glass.”

I cut the power to the camera. “Shit, I don`t like that tagline either,” I frowned as the dark woods enveloped us. Gerard was still giggling like a buffoon somewhere to my right. “Could you at least try to get yourself together?”

“That was classic! I just wish you would have said ‘Jinkies! It`s Old Man Sodbuster!’ or something when I pulled his mask off.”

He had to talk between peals of laughter he was that amused. Someone was having far too good a laugh at this. “Yuk it up, but keep in mind that if we don`t soon find something solid to turn over to Eddie and the programming executives, you`ll be snickering all the way to the unemployment office.”

“Ah come on, you know what George Carlin said. ‘Don`t sweat the petty things and don`t pet the sweaty things’,” Gerard said as he neared.

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the man grabbed me from behind, bringing my back tightly into his chest, “That this show will be a hit. A campy hit maybe, but a hit just the same. Who can resist those big green eyes of yours?” he nuzzled my neck, “Or that pouty bottom lip of yours,” another small nip along my jugular, “Or the way you fill out those jeans?”

“What about my journalistic skills? Think anyone will appreciate….a little lower,” I sighed.

He moved his mouth to that tender spot where neck meets shoulder. “Why don`t we go find the B&B Eddie set us up in? You know, to find a tow truck and maybe have a nightcap while we wait for said tow truck?”

I gave the matter some serious thought. For about half a second.

“I vaguely recall something about a nightcap….”

“We can watch TCM until the tow truck shows up….”

Temptation thy name is Gerard Williams. The lure of sitting on a couch - wine in hand - curled into the side of this man while Greta or Bette or Bogie graced the screen was far too enticing to pass up.

Hell, we might even watch the movie.



Click below to go to Tuesday Tales

I hope you enjoyed meeting Maggie and Gerard. We`ll have more tales from them later I promise.

See you next Tuesday for the return of Libby and Ares!


S. J. Qualls said...

LOL! Entertaining!

Happy Halloween!

Michele Stefanides said...

I guess that kiss and the promise if what's coming are enough for my impatient desire to see Maggie and Gerard get together. ;-) Nice story!

Pamela Mason said...

Loved it - you have a gift for romantic comedy!

Sherry Gloag said...

Loved it :-)

V.L. Locey said...

Thanks for reading along. We`ll see more of these two in 2013 have no worries.

Karen said...

These two are so funny together. I love this story.

Lindsay said...

Loved the scene.

Davee said...

I always enjoy the imagery you present with your words. Well done once again! Jinkies!